Hey everyone! I want to thank: Lestri, angelloverkk, and Harry's Little Sister. All those previously mentioned (it takes some time to type it all out), thanks you guys. I love you all.
Second thing, I'm looking to change the name of this fic; now that it's starting to get a little deep, I'm thinking of changing the name.
What says you?
Playlist: My Wish Comes True (It's from an Indian movie – Kisna)
Color Outside The Lines – Hedley
Arioso – Bach
"Isn't this the part where you ask me out?"
"Who are you writing to, Bianca?" Peter squeaked.
"None of your business, Peter." She growled. She'd been writing an incredibly long letter. It seemed obvious that it was to Bradley.
She was also in a very, very bad mood. Brad had replied to her last letter in only about a hundred words, and though we all tried explaining that we were certain it was because he was busy and not ignoring her, she was of no mind to listen.
Only when she signed her name at the bottom with a flourish did a smile grace her face again. She seemed to have gotten rid of all her anger on that parchment
Late September, and it was like the entire school was singing. Actually, I was fairly certain I heard one of the walls sing once or twice. The castle celebrated the coming of the bleak season.
It seemed like almost all the teachers were tired of harping at us about how NEWT year is the most important for students and Take at least this one thing seriously (Black), because it was implied that I was the subject of the comment. They didn't even feel the need to use my name. Bianca found it incredibly funny.
We were on our way to Hogsmeade when I was mulling over these thoughts, and I was fairly certain Peter had been calling my name for the last ten minutes. Peter, Bianca and I were out in the crisp fall air, making our way to the Three Broomsticks, alone. Because Remus had gone with Sienna and James and Lily were out together. We had spent some time grumbling, when Bianca broke in, saying,
"We might be better off, you know? Imagine if we were to be walking with the new couple." She finished with a grin. I shuddered at the thought. Not that I wasn't happy that James finally got the right girl, but there was a limit to how much time you could spend among the lovesick. I'd heard that it was contagious.
Alyssa walked by with a group of girls, and I smiled at her. Of course, the sillier girls fell over themselves giggling, but she waved and smiled back.
"Woah, Sirius. That's some power you've got there." Peter giggled, not unlike the girls who had just walked by. I began to say so, but Bianca broke in with a snicker.
I turned to her for support, but she had already sided with Peter. "Yeah, Black. Even those girls fall over themselves for you. It's so…cute!" She mocked the younger girls, clutching Peter's arm. It was an accurate, if a little cruel, imitation.
"Yeah, and…and," Peter struggled to make a funny. "Black's got a girlfriend!" he began in a monotonous sing-song.
"Bugger off, Wormtail. I'm not into incest. She's from the Mendelson family, and something like my second cousin, twice removed."
"Yeah?" Bianca piped up, interested. "So I'm not going to find her in the bathroom, crying in a few weeks?"
"I suppose you might –" I began what was going to be a witty comeback, but got cut off by Peter.
"See! He doesn't deny it!" He screamed, laughing hysterically. "Black's got a girlfriend, the poor little doll. She doesn't realize that she's in for it with a gitty troll!" Peter finished, looking triumphant.
"Um, Peter?" Bianca tapped his shoulder. "Doll and troll don't rhyme. And gitty isn't a word." She said, deflating him instantaneously. I laughed, giving Peter a little shove.
"Better luck next time, mate." I grinned; Peter's nose twitched as he grumbled. "And I'm not with her."
The quietness that fell over us did not last long; we soon reached the overflowing storefronts, voices babbling like a river. A shriek, followed by a laugh. Low tones of a secret. Fourth-years jumped on fallen red leaves. Two girls sat quietly by the fence of the Shrieking Shack, talking. Another sat a few paces away, with what looked like a drawing book in lap, sketching leisurely, a small smile on her face.
It felt good to just absorb all the noise, to simply be a part of the tide of students, the currents pulling in different directions, all chattering excitedly.
My moment of depth was shattered by a particularly chilly breeze. All three of us paused to pull our jackets closer to ourselves and bent our heads as we walked quickly towards the Three Broomsticks.
"I hate you." The first words that popped out of my mouth were less impressive when my teeth were chattering, but they surprised a few people sitting at the surrounding tables nonetheless when they saw who the words were directed at.
James laughed, and pulled up a chair. "Sit, sit. And then tell me, dear Padfoot, what exactly I have done to induce your fearsome rage and to deserve your terrible hatred." He finished with a grin.
"You're warm." I snarled, grinning.
"Padfoot, Padfoot, Padfoot. I'm not just warm. That's Wormtail for you. I'm positively piping hot!"
"Hey!" Wormtail protested, if a little late.
"Shut up." I said after the laughter subsided. "We've," I pointed to Bianca, Peter, and myself, "Just walked through a terribly chilly morning to see you and Evans huddled up and warm."
"I don't mind." Bianca said. I looked at her, the shock of her betrayal painting my face a bright crimson.
"You…you!" I said, unable to insult her, even when she needed to hear it.
The silence that followed was disconcerting. James pulled in a shocked gasp. "Bianca, we bow down to you. You have silenced Sirius Black the unsilence-able!" And then, no joke, they began to dance around her stopping occasionally to bow down.
"Bianca Hughes, high priestess of Hogwarts!" Lily cheered.
"Madam Rosemerta?" I called. "Please tell me you have a camera. Please capture this and then give me a copy. This is going on all of your Christmas cards, I swear."
As it was, a flash and some purple smoke later, the scene did get immortalized. Laughing, James, Lily, and Peter sat down. Remus and Sienna chose that moment to walk in.
"What's so funny?" Sienna asked, her accent pronounced. It happened every time she came back from Spain. Her sister was really far better at concealing her accent. Sierra could have pulled off being British if it wasn't for her obviously Spanish features. She was an absolute bombshell, of course, but in a very different way from the regular English girls.
"Well," Lily began, a wide grin on her face, "Bianca managed to silence Sirius, so we've named her High Priestess of Hogwarts."
"Sirius silenced?" Remus asked, impressed.
"Madam Rosemerta's caught their crazy dance on camera. I've promised it's going on their Christmas Cards." I said darkly.
"Well, Sirius. I'm just glad you've finally met your match." At his words, for some unfathomable reason, Bianca turned bright red.
"It seems like the entire Hughes clan can do that to me." I muttered.
Six sets of questioning eyes bore into me.
Chuckling quietly, I told them of the last time I'd been in here; of Madam Rosemerta's and Brad's misunderstanding, carefully editing out the part about Diggory.
"Well, I, for one, find it unsurprising." Sienna said. "Just look at the way they behave. Not necessarily by choice, but they are together all the time."
There were murmured agreements from all around the table.
After this, everything was mostly idle banter, up until James and Lily decided the table was too crowded for them. Remus and Sienna followed quickly after, with Peter tagging along behind them. I pitied him for it. No matter how quiet he seemed, how perfectly he followed the rules, there was no denying it – when he was emotionally involved in something, something that caused certain physical reactions, he was prone to forgetting he had an audience. Poor, poor Peter.
We stayed back because we felt like drinking some more. Madam Rosemerta – bless her soul – called all our drinks on the house as an apology for embarrassing me last time. You never did look a gift horse in the mouth, though, so we took it, drinking ourselves into merry oblivion.
"Come on, let me show you my little place." I said to Bianca when she looked dangerously wobbly. She laughed at the lewd cliché.
As it was, though, she was walking fairly okay – Irish cliché. I didn't miss the opportunity to insert a joke about it. Our tête-à-tête touched what felt like every topic under the sun on the way back to Hogwarts.
"I don't know what I'd do, you know?" She said quietly, out of the blue. It took me a minute to understand what she was talking about. "He's really the only family I have. Now that he's getting married – and don't get me wrong, I really do like Eliza – he's going to be devoted to her, and then who do I have, Sirius?"
"You'll have me – all of us would be here for you, Bianca." I said. I had a moment of confusion there, a strange emotion bombarded a thousand mental pictures at me. I felt something rushing in my chest, but then I ignored it, because she said something that stopped my heart for a minute.
"You don't get it, Sirius. It's not just that I'd get lonely. I can deal. But if it meant protecting Brad, now that he's given up magic, I'd torture or be tortured; kill or be killed. I know it sounds sick, but he's done too much for me to not repay it to him. I'd hate every minute of it, but if it meant protecting Brad, I'd join forces with Voldemort himself."
I tried not to think about it. I couldn't imagine doing it for anyone; except maybe for the Order as an undercover thing.
"Then we just have to make sure that doesn't happen, don't we?" I asked, walking just a tiny bit closer to her.
"Where are you taking me?" Bianca asked as we began to climb yet another set of stairs.
"Hold on, you'll see." I said to her. I felt around for the little bump on the middle stair and gave it a flick. Immediately, the upper half of the stairs twisted violently and locked in place to what seemed like a stone wall.
"Run!" I told her, counting down. The stair only stayed in that place for about twenty seconds. I grabbed her hand and tore up the stair case.
"Incendio!" I pointed my wand at the stone brick with a straight line down the center. "Glacios!" I said in quick succession, and the flame froze.
And much like the Diagon Alley wall, the bricks began to shift to accommodate a Bianca sized hole. Pushing her through quickly, I followed. Just in time, too. I felt the stair case shift while my back leg was still on it.
And there it was, my little haven. It was a nice place, draped in silvers and violets, with rich reds coating the floor in a carpet thick enough to be a mattress. I didn't know who made it, but it was very, very convenient. Over the years, I had put the red carpet in, the dashes of silver. I'd thrown in gray cushions and stashed a cupboard full of good alcohol and fancy French food. Of course, the house elves must know about it, because each time I went up there, it would be clean with fresh food stacked in the little mahogany cupboard.
"This is the most adorable place ever!" Bianca exclaimed, throwing herself on the biggest cushion.
"I try my best." I said, grinning. And then she grabbed on to my hand and pulled me down, and the conversation began to flow again.
The banter was now resting along the topic of Quidditch.
"You know, Sirius, I think you'd make a really good Beater. Why do you play Keeper anyway?"
"No, I'm really much more about the defense of it. I'm a better Keeper than Beater."
"Bull. No offense, Black, but you're not more than decent at Keeper. Aiden McCarthy is actually a better keeper than you are."
I choked on my butterbeer. "The Hufflepuff?" I asked, incredulous.
"Oh, don't give me that look. And yes, he is better than you are. He has a knack for it. You are just…I don't know, generic."
"Well, that's insulting." I said, trying to hold on to my scowl.
"No, but seriously, I want to know…and don't make fun of me because I know I'm right this time."
I nodded, gesturing that she should go on.
"Why are you so afraid of making decisions?" She asked, point blank. I stared at her. What the…
I struggled with words, because I truly did want to answer her, but I didn't know how. I wasn't sure exactly what she was asking. Well, no, that was a lie. I knew the what, I just didn't know how to answer. I also wanted to know how she pulled that one. It took James two years, and that was because I was a kid. I didn't know to hide my feelings any better.
A tribute to her insight, that was all, I promised myself.
"I…I don't know how to begin." I confessed.
"Use a metaphor?" She said, relentless. She really wanted to know. I let out a gusty breath, and tried. This time, the words did come.
"Look at it this way, Bianca. If I look back at my life right now…or, better yet, let's say my life is one giant notebook with unruled sheets."
"A drawing notebook. With good quality parchment." She corrected gently. She always knew when I needed to be handled with care and when to change the topic or make a joke. I was not predictable, as far as I knew, so how did she read me the way she did? Was it because we were both messed up on the same level? I reviewed all I knew.
FACT: I was a little off in the head.
FACT: Bianca read me like a book without much effort.
FACT: It was something like empathy that drove her.
FACT: You have to be similar, or have a similar past, to feel empathy. So,
ASSERTION: Bianca was a little off in the head, as well.
It was no wonder I did well in Arithmancy. Lily had told me that the muggle equivalent, math, included plenty of proofs, just like Arithmancy, in fact. Well, if I proved things dealing with emotions with such casual ease (if I do say so myself) that it could almost be called graceful, well, I repeat: It was no wonder I did well in Arithmancy.
I had a decision to make now. I could bullshit her, or I could tell the truth. Or a part of it, at least. If I began to talk, I would tell her everything that her question didn't ask for, but she wanted to know. Her hand was lying close to mine, and so without a second of more thought, I caught her smaller hand between both of my own. Breathing in, I began.
"Alright, let's say we look back at my life like a drawing notebook with good quality parchment, and then even if there weren't enough words, I could get a box of crayons and clearly draw lines where which kinds of colors need to be. There are fun yellows, silver freedom, pastel blues are happy, calm greens, angry, pulsating reds, moments of insight are a deep blue, and some of the most important times of my life are purple, and they're all edged with charcoal gray pain, and a thin thread of angry red weaves through all that gray. I can smudge a little here and there, Bianca, blur the lines so that one emotion blends into the next, as if they were the same. But you have to realize this, I have always had my life cut out for me. I've always filled in colors after things happened."
I realized that I sounded bratty. I could not say that my life had been harsh, just a little difficult for me. I knew I had been privileged; money did that to you, and that there were people out there who had it worse than me. But even then, there were moments of pain so intense that it had seemed difficult to draw in a breath. But then again, I thought bitterly, they have been the moments that taught me how to hide my emotions a little. They were the moments that cultivated the part of me that can keep my pain to myself.
"When I was younger, I had to be the big brother and take care that Regulus turned out okay. That was a pastel blue box. The inside was sometimes filled in with yellow. And then, sometimes the boxes would be black and red, when my father was upset. When my mother sided with him, it was more red, and this time it was more the color of blood. There was charcoal, too. It was painful. When I came to Hogwarts, there was a huge, shimmering box of pastel blue. Going home was a darker gray every time. Then the silver last summer. It's always been these colored boxes with rounded edges. Never have I once colored outside the lines, though. I don't even know how, Bianca. Last summer, when I left home, well, that was my first decision that I made on my own, and look where I am now. That was my first silver box. That was the first box I colored before, rather than after. I bunk with James, and I'm just lucky that Mr. and Mrs. Potter like me. It was reckless of me, but I got lucky. It's always been luck, Bianca. And now, I have seven months to decide just what I want to do with my life. I don't have a goal, Bianca. I don't have any ambition. I suppose you could say that I'm spoiled."
"I don't think you're spoiled, Sirius. I think you're underestimating yourself. Many people would break down under less pressure. But you did say it yourself, you have about seven months to decide what you want to do. You might want to look into that seriously." And then her bright blue eyes burned. "And then there's the other thing I need you to be decisive about."
I had a feeling I knew where this was going. She took a deep breath and then let it out, her words having abandoned her. She tried again, keeping it short. "Sirius, I need to know where we are. You need to stop playing games with me. Here's the thing, Sirius. I want to know, what do you want to be? Do you want to be my friend, fill in the spot of my brother? What am I to you, Sirius?"
"I get it." I told her. She looked at me resolutely, as though she wouldn't let go without an answer. And she was famous for her stubborn self.
And since we were doing confessions, I decided to come out with it. The last time I had tried to work it off, it had resulted in disastrous conditions, and one very pissed Willow Chester. Abandoning all pretenses, I came out with it, for once, my voice strong – and I had just made a decision.
"Bianca. I'm very clear on what I want." I took a deep breath to steady myself. "I want you. You're one of the most special things in my life, and that's saying a lot. You made it in really fast, you know that? Nobody has ever been able to burrow into our circle, or into my head, as quickly as you did. I really like you, Bianca, and I suppose it was cowardly of me to wait for you to acknowledge what you might have felt." I cracked a grin. "Now that I've made up my mind, Galway Girl, I'll wait for you to decide. I will wait, Bianca, if that's what you want."
In my mind, this moment was being filled with violet and silver.
"Thanks, dog."
"For?"
"Acknowledging it. And I think I might more than like you. But you knew that, didn't you? I've liked you, I think, since the moment you offered me that eclair."
We sat on the stone floor for a while, lost in our own thoughts. I voiced my most worrying concern.
"So where does that leave us now?"
"Isn't this the part where you ask me out?" She winked at me.
Link to My Wish Comes true: (slash) watch? v=WffaYmdS-yI)
Did anybody notice the tiniest bit of foreshadowing in the earlier part of the chapter? It surfaced in the most important part.
Also, thank I Am A Witch Really for this chapter. It was her latest chapter that motivated me to put this up today.
