Chapter 12: The Heavens on Cloth
~James' POV~
The light shines down, bathing me in its warmth, I feel the way it seems to bring me to life, I love the way it burns me with its heat, bringing me to life, bringing us all to life, as if puppets at its willing command, each ray a string pulling our eyelids open. I watched the stars fade, slipping behind and slowly disappearing one by one behind the clouds, behind the world, behind the horizon, a line that defines a limit I would like to break, as the sun rose to challenge the moon, a long and tired battle, that it wins every day, and the moon wins every night. The sun is large, sometimes I like to wonder how long I would take me to fly around it, and so it rises, its light burning anything in its path, and from it I can see the beauty of just the nature outside, I watch from the window across the room, I watch and I hear, each bird and each and every thing wake up, as if the sun was calling them to its arms, to its beckon.
I feel her stir, her breath soft into the silence, I can hear each breath, the in and out, the catch of air on her teeth, the rattle of her breath as a shiver runs through her, I can hear each movement, each swallow. I wonder if she knows how late I came in, just as the sun started to scrape the sky at dawns rise, and nights end, I wonder if she knows why I creeped in so late, I wonder, how can I not? It's what I'm good at.
At least they think I am good at it, they think I'm good at everything, that I can save the world in a hearts beat, when I was younger I thought that maybe I could, but no one can. My family is known for its exceptions, because my dad can, a father, a hero, a saviour, they paint his picture on every head line, but I don't know him as that hero, that saviour I know him as the guy that used to tell me good night stories, that would tell my mother to give up on keeping my hair in place, that said he loved me just the same. Just the same, three words that have meant so much. Don't they always?
I remember the first time I noticed him pick him out, Albus, as if the black sheep of the family was a favourite, not just of him, everyone, I remember getting on the train and turning, looking back at Albus, he was going into first year, and he was scared, I remember how dad sat him down and gave him a speech that saved his sons life, and there was something in his eyes, a love, an understanding, as if he got it.
When I went in to first year I remember looking in the mirror before we went to the train station, I was the second of the huge family to go, Teddy was first, I remember saying you've got this so many times I think I began to believe it. I remember my dad squeezing me close, his arms strong, his eyes kind, and saying I love you, but more than that, I remember as I walked away what he said to mom, the way he said it, for parents always think the little ones don't have ears, and yet I was listening from day one.
He said in a voice so soft, maybe I had misheard, "Ginny he was born for the crowd, he's not the one we should be worrying about,"
The sun seems to shine down on me, drowning me, and I blink, the station disappearing and the world coming into focus, the bed, the sheets tangled between us, the heavy drapes, with the sun peeking through, the soft breathing, the lullaby of each sigh,
Sheila pulls me closer, tucking her head into the crook of my neck, my hands are tangled in her hair, I love playing with her hair, the way it cascades over her shoulders, the way she always asks me to brush it. I remember when Sheila and I first met, she had a smile that set me on fire, she didn't bat her eyes, she said that I was the most interesting person she had ever laid eyes on, I always thought she was crazy to think so, to look past the image, and just get a glimpse at me. She had flirted for weeks, and when I broke it off with Linda she was there to be next, as if there was a line. Sheila, she is simple, I know her inside and out, the way she likes her eggs, the way she prefers to sleep, which side of the bed she likes, but more so, I know how quickly she distrusts, how easily she is influenced, how much she wants all eyes on her. Including mine.
Her eyes open, doe eyes, brown, light in colour and yet light because there has never been any dark. Never any worry, never any life, never any problems, but I would not call that innocence, no Rose is innocent, Veronica is innocent, Sheila is very far from that, but she is naïve.
"How long have you been up?"
I smile at her and stretch my arms, yawning as I feel the sunlight begin to shine in, and smile down at her, eyebrows rising, she looks happy, the stress lines disappearing as she smiles back, and I wink, an eye darting close,
"Ages…"
She giggles and turns over onto her stomach, hair throwing over her shoulder as she reaches for her robe, but I stop her with my arms, wrapping around her and trapping her in my embrace. She giggles and gives up on trying to get away, and sighs, eyes batting closed, and darting open. My voice is humorous, not serious, poking fun,
"Don't leave me,"
She rolls back onto her back and looks up at me, her eyes sad, serious and I feel my heart sink as I already know what she is going to say,
"Oh James, you'll be the one to leave, aren't you always?"
I lick my lips and sigh, running a hand through my hair, eyes scrunching shut and rolling my shoulders back to relieve tension, my voice is slightly annoyed when I speak again,
"Way to ruin the moment S"
She blinks and watches me get out of bed, my sweat pants hanging low on my hips, and I feel her watch the movement, the muscles relax, the skin, a part of me hates the way she watches me like I am a piece of meat, as if she is almost drooling like I'm some piece of gold, and I reach for a shirt, head shaking, hair untamed,
"I didn't want to ruin it, it's just everywhere I go there is someone you have dated, and you're in 4th year for merlin's sake!"
I feel my hand go to my hair again, the strands are soft, and she shakes her head, hands resting on her hips, gaze threatening,
"You come in late, you never give a damn!"
I feel my tongue dart over my lips, head shaking, eyes downcast,
"I know…"
She laughs, deranged,
"YOU KNOW? Merlin James, sometimes I wonder who you even are,"
I feel it like a stab but the brave face is already on, and I look at her, my eyes begging immediate forgiveness, hers on fire, and the heat doesn't burn it reminds, and the moment feels predetermined, and empty, all of it, and so she yells and yells and what can I do but listen?
"You get so lost in your head, and you go away, away James and I feel as if wherever you are it can't be good, and you aren't honest to me"
My back turns to face her, our eyes connect, and she sees the want for it to be let go, forgotten, just for once, and I sigh, and my voice is timid, but straight forward and my eyes hold a danger, a line she doesn't dare to cross.
"What do you want to know?"
She stands, her dainty hands slipping around me waist and she leans into me, her chin resting on my shoulder, as I feel her want, too, for us to forget, to stop fighting, to compromise, her voice is soft,
"Everything, is that too much to ask?"
I lean into her touch, its cold, her hands, her fingers, I remember how much I craved that cold this summer, but I no longer want it now, and as winter approaches I dislike it more and more, I need a heart of ice but skin of fire, eyes of power, Sheila reminds me of a chess piece on a board where the game never was bothered to play and it stayed in place, with nothing more, growing rusty and dusty, one day to be forgotten.
I feel myself answer the standard answer,
"My family and I have so many secrets; I can't just let you in that easily, I'm not used to that, to this,"
"To what Jamie?"
I turn and face her, she looks worried, and once I might have wanted to put her at ease, but now I feel angry, anger that she does not trust me, that no one does. And so I say another line that seems pre-rehearsed, but works every time.
"To having someone care,"
She smiles up at me, and leans in kissing me slow, her lips are cold too, but this time I do crave them, the love, the attention, just someone who does want me, who does, who does,
She pulls away, her eyes sparkling with life,
"I love you James Sirius Potter, I always have,"
I smile, my eyes wrinkling, and peck her on the tip of her nose, eyes flashing closed, and pull away ruffling her hair tenderly,
"I know you do, and that's what makes you so very special,"
She grins and leans and kisses me again, hard, her lips demanding, her hands wrapping around me, as she pulls me closer till there is no distance between us, and I forget about the beautiful sunrise, I forget it all and collapse into her touch, falling back onto the bed, already knowing how we are going to be spending our morning. But some part of me feels disgust as if she is dirty, someone's seconds, and one day she'll be mine, and I feel the want to push her away but her arms pull me down and I give in, hands lost in her hair.
The hours went by in bliss, in regrets in a repeat of every other beautiful woman I've dated and eventually, after a nice shower, and fresh clothes, we walk to breakfast, my mates hit me on the back, meeting us in the common room,
"How'd you spend your morning, eh Jamie?"
I laugh, brushing off their hands, as Sheila blushes and hides her face beneath her hair,
Fred raises his eyebrows and peaks at Sheila and then looks at me,
"Ahh, James are we embarrassing the two of you?"
I shake my head, hand going to my hair, and laugh, the smile seems a little stretched, a little pulled,
"Hell no, I'm just too damn hot for you, aren't I hun?"
She bumps our shoulders, tucking her hair behind her ear, and she gives me a curious look, something along the lines of what are you saying? When she responds her voice is timid, and honest,
"Yeah you are…."
Something about her sincerity unsettles me, for a moment I was expecting for her to contradict me, and we would argue and argue, but I had said the wrong thing I realise, I had said something I wouldn't say to her, something I would say to a certain Ravenclaw, something I had almost imagined saying to her before.
I shoot Sheila a small smile, and feel my tongue shoot out and brush over my lips, I never make a mistake in my act, I never am not smooth, but for a second of relapse everyone raises their eyebrows at me, asking, wondering, Fred's eyes tell me he knows, or maybe he wants to know,
"Come now Sheila, when you are in love what can one do?"
She smiles and it is back to normal, as if nothing happened, but something did happen, I made a mistake, I thought of her eyes again, the seas, I thought too much. I remember last night, my hands wrapped around her, my eyes on her, the words we said, the way she would tilt her head, and look at the floor, the way the wind of the tower tossed her hair, like flames of gold behind her. I remember how she said she wanted to capture the sky, I remember it all, and how she said she would wrap it around her.
I remember waiting minutes after she left, and instead of taking the stairs and following her footsteps down the stairwell, I apparate, disappearing into a swirl of skin, colour, and then the terrace of the top of the north tower is left empty and I fly through the air, landing with expertise, I remember wringing the door bell, apologizing for it being so late, I remember telling them what I wanted, I remember the way they showed me their ideas, laying out cloth, diamonds, sapphires and emeralds.
I remember how when it was almost dawn I crept to bed, Sheila's arms wrapping around air, a crease in her brow, eyes squeezed shut in fear, and without knowing I feel her eyes relax as I fill the space where the air once was, I see the crease disappear, I feel a soft sigh as the muscles of her shoulders relax. I remember feeling happy she could take a deep breath.
"There you go again getting lost in your head, James?"
I glance over at her, and smile softly, and shake my head side to side, pulling her under my arm and pressing my lips to her forehead, I watch her eyes dip close, and her shoulders shudder. I wonder if she does actually love me, some part of me always wonders if they do, or if it's just for show.
Fred taps my shoulder and nods to the side, and I smile at Sheila slipping away from her and the crowd, his eyes hold a haunted edge, and he shakes his head, looking at the floor, lowering his voice till it is barely audible, his eyes hold regret, fear, and a question, and I am hoping I won't know the answer. His voice is not just quiet but shakes, trembling, and in it I hear the first tremor of a war, of a battle, and his voice brings an earthquake, a thunderstorm, fire, and arsenal.
"James your dad was supposedly attacked in Diagon Alley…."
My smile is gone, and I feel my eyebrows come together, my heart skipping a beat, and my breath catches and I feel, as my eyes flash closed, the girl her hands are bone, her skin raw, her eyes wide, she is begging me to run, and she seems too familiar, she is telling me to go, her lips are chapped, there is blood, too much of it, it can't be good, and she is telling me to leave her behind, she is telling me that it's not worth it and a chill, the chill of her hands, of the end of something I never got to say goodbye to washes over me. And then my eyes open and I can feel my heart pounding, the blood rushing through my veins, the adrenaline in my veins, the fire in my veins, the fear in my bones. Who am I to be afraid? The eyes seem to heavy, the room seems to be turning, spinning, and I can't seem to control anything, and from far away Fred's voice comes like the tide, washing away the fear,
"He's fine James, not even a scratch, that's the thing, they don't…"
I swallow, and run a hand over my face, and I can see Fred's eyes follow the movement, watch the shake in my hands, the relief in my eyes, the oxygen comes back,
"Don't what?"
He swallows, "Their not sure who, or what it was…. But it didn't want to hurt him, it wanted to warn him…."
My head is turning, my heart rate going one step ahead of reason and thought,
"Warn him of what, what Fred?"
He shakes his head, he seems terrified of the way my hands tremble, of the way my eyes s4earch his, almost desperate, the way the mask slipped off without warning.
My brain is whirring to life, moving a million miles an hour,
"You said Diagon Alley, what time?"
Fred glances at me, eyebrows drawn, and eyes worried
"Your dad was attacked and you're concerned about what time it was?"
I look at him with a look of 'are you stupid' and 'duh' and he shakes his head, eyes rolling,
"Maybe 3 in the morning, he was coming home from work late, he stopped to get a late night coffee"
He watches me curiously, the way my eyes squeeze shut, the way my hands aren't shaking anymore, the way my breath was become steady. And as my eyes close I see the alley, the darkness clinging to the shadows, the quiet scrape of my shoes on the pavement, the doorway lit by candlelight, my hand pale in the blackness knocking on the mahogany, my knuckles pink from the cold, my breath forming clouds, that night sky haunting me above as it gazed down. The way the iron of the knob was cold to the touch, the way my eyes scanned each corner , the ice of the gold watch, my eyes straining to see the time, I remember it was 3:17 the way they let me in, the door closing behind.
He watches me remember, but he does not know what,
"I went to tell you last night, when we got the news but you weren't in the school were you James?"
I glance at him, and I feel him wonder, a question I don't want the answer for, I don't want to have the answer for, and yet there it is on the tip of my tongue, and if I knew in this moment that I would be changing her life forever, our lives forever, I wonder if I would still have said what I did, I wonder if I would have still have allowed her in on a family secret, on a lie of mine, but after all she was all I had left to hide behind, and since my mask was down, its time hers goes up.
I run a hand through my hair, eyes rolling, the moves are forced, and without thinking she becomes a part of the future, a part of our lives, the Potter lives.
"I was with a friend, Rose BlackThorne we went out late, did some work, nothing serious- you're sure it was around 3 in Diagon Alley? Bloody hell right before Hermi's birthday too…"
My eyes close, blocking out the world, and I feel his eyes heavy,
"Rose BlackThorne? Who the hell is Rose BlackThorne?"
His gaze is heavy, and dangerously interested, too close to the truth,
"A nobody….. A nobody to me, we just have a project together, merlin, since when did you care so much about who I talk too?"
He shakes his head, eyes downcast, "Since when did you spend your nights with nobody's and your mornings with girlfriends?"
I lick my lips, my eyes not meeting his, my jawing ticking,
"Did the press catch this?"
He shakes his head, "Nope…."
Sheila runs over arms swinging around me, lips pressing onto the skin of my cheek, and I feel revolted by the touch,
"What are you big boys talking about?"
I can't force a smile, and glance at Fred, he wants to know what I'll do, he wants to know if I'll go, and I know I should but there is some sort of tick, a chip in the back of my mind asking me a million questions, and so I shoot him a see through smile, and answer with my mask painted to perfection,
"Secrets love, were talking about secrets, after all planning a birthday party is our specialty…"
And so we walk with the crowd, empowered with the movement, and our conversation is pushed into the back of our thoughts, considered, at the moment to be forgotten, for aren't all things better ignored until it is absolutely necessary to face them?
And then I push her away and as we come to the grand stair way, I flip through the air, hair falling out of my eyes as I fly through the air, my shirt slipping up to show my defined muscles and land on the banister, my feet single file on the skinny marble and I feel them watch me, everyone, their admiration, their awe, and it drives me crazy with adrenaline, and so I slide, down and down the banister, hands in the air, running through the air, and I flash by people walking down the stairs, and at the base, I flip through the air forward, landing in a crouch, and grinning, I turn back and wink, and I can hear the entire stair well sigh in awe, and I run a hand through my hair turning on my heels and leading the few going to the great hall, the rest go to Hogsmead to shop and live,
And as I stride in, my hands swinging, my friends following me, and there she is,
She sits with her head in a book, her wand out and she reads the incantation, memorising it and then she delicately flicks the piece of wood, and out of it rises a small cloud, but no rain, she screws up her face in confusion and gets rid of it trying again, this time a light drizzle starts and she laughs as the water runs over her, her hair becoming damp, along with her clothes, I watch a droplet of water run down her forehead and onto her eyelash where there it is captured, glowing like liquid silver.
I look away, Sheila catching up, hands wrapping around me from behind, lips grazing my cheek, she has that smile that would electrify any man, but not me, never me. And we go and sit, laughing, bumping shoulders, but as we sit I see it fall, not fall, the owl from my designers drop the package, wrapped in satin, I watch her fingers wrap around it, and the surprise on her face. She looks so beautifully shocked.
And as if blinking I remember the laughter of them as they sowed and pointed out materials, asking me how much I was willing to spend, I remember saying that the price isn't important the quality is. I remember looking out the windows, the streets seem to be calling me, and in them everything looks like a shadow, everything looks like a warning, the way the jewels glint in the light makes the memory almost unforgettable, and I remember imagining her anger as the silk would slip through her fingers, as it would slip over her skin to fit her form perfectly, I remember the way she dared me to find something she could not resist, and now, watching her put down the book, watching her eyes stop scanning the page, watching her fingers go for the fascine I can see her anger before it comes, I can anticipate her shock, after all did she not request the stars? A blanket of them in a jar for special occasions and I can't help but smile, small, and for once innocent.
~Rose POV~
Breakfast is quiet, everyone is already off to Hogsmead, and Veronica still hasn't woken up, but me, I couldn't sleep, his eyes, crystal clear blue haunted me, but the hazel orbs hunted me, and they seemed to oppose each other, maybe even hate each other.
James and his friends sit behind me, Sheila has her head rested on his lap, sleeping as him and his friends talk about their Aunts, Veronica's mothers, Birthday Party.
And as they laugh a package drops from the heavens, landing softy on the table. I stare at it, its huge, monstrous, tall, and not very wide, but not narrow, and covered in red velvet, shining with expense, I see a small tag poking out, covered in white lace and engraved in gold on its crest was my name and there beneath that, is those dreaded initials, shining in the gold of the sun, the stars and those eyes.
And those same eyes see me, watch me recognise the gift, they watch my hands go to the string, gold as well in colour, and undue it, as the velvet, red as blood itself, slips off of the gift, circular in shape, and falls, pooling at its base on the tablecloth.
I look at it, and I feel my lips part, and without knowing a tear, as silver as the object before me slips down my cheek, tracing a path to a forever he is letting me have, he is giving me a gift that is no ordinary object but looks like a dream, like last night was a dream, and every word he said, of my smile, my eyes, legends, and brightness is mirrored in my swimming reflection of the glass.
Yes, glass, for it is a giant, no, not giant but large in size bottle, and the top has a quirk, maybe the size of my fist, and behind the glass, trapped behind the window I peak in, is the sky, blues, silvers, and white clouds shimmer as if real, purples, violets, coppers and emeralds shine, stars, so perfectly depicted shine, as if I could touch them, and there is the moon, its soft light reflecting off of the glass, thrown back at it, back at the sky. I can see the detail of stars that sparkle like diamonds, the wind that seems to move with the silk, it seems as if I am looking at the heavens, jarred and trapped in a bottle for me to unplug, to open, to dare. Do I? It is moving the cloth is alive, enchanted it looks like a dream and I want to scream to shout to yell but I sit paralyzed, unable to look away. I can see the blues, fading into one and other, all classified as a mysterious and other worldly darkness, that seems to beckon me, enchanting me in its spell, as it shines as if on fire, as if cold, and my cheeks feel warm, the tear races a path down my cheek, already wet from the spell earlier.
I remember what I had said, the words seem too unbelievable, unattainable, and yet with a gift like this, where I should be furious, I cannot help but admire, a beauty so unique, so unspoken, how could he? His gaze feels like the weight of the world, and I feel as if I am about to drown,
My hand reaches for the quirk, it comes undone easily, and just beneath it is another note written on white lace paper, with letters etched in gold, words that had happened just yesterday, and I can feel my eyelashes brush my cheek, my heart pounding, my lips part, the air brush against my teeth, my hands tremble, my mind race as fast as my heart, the adrenaline, the sudden glimpse of temptation, and last night I could resist, but here, with the sky just millimetres from my fingertips, with so much riches placed before me like a banquet, a feast for me to devour, how am I supposed to react, what am I supposed to say?
And his voice echoes in my ears, singing through my blood, clouding my senses, and the note reads,
I promised you the sky, how I'd capture it, and lock it away in a bottle, so that I could see that smile, so that you could hide beneath these heavens always, and remember that you too can last forever…
J.S.P
The tear traces over my lips to my chin, and I catch it, slipping my finger underneath the drop of water and letting it be forgotten, and I turn, and I look into those eyes, who have already found mine, and I watch him arch a single eyebrow, and I thank him, with the smile he asked for, but with the smile I feel a part of my will power go, and he sees it, god I know he does, the fear, how scared I am of what it means, and I wonder if he's scared, of me, of my smile, of anything. No, remember Rose, he's James bloody Potter who does not even know what fear looks like even if it hit him in the face. You can't take it, you have to give it back you have to leave it and then I stand and I leave it behind shaking my head back and forth, eyes trained on his, and leave the riches behind, a statement that I cannot be bought, no matter how beautiful, no matter how expensive. And he grins and nods to me, picking up his goblet and raising his glass in a toast, tipping the liquid back with a daring glint in his eye, as if accepting my challenge.
~JAMES POV~
I watch her open it, the way her fingers scrape against the cloth, the delicate motion as the velvet falls, the way she gives a silent gasp, lips parting in amazement. She is beautiful, the word has never applied before for anyone, yes, there are a lot of pretty girls I've known, some have even come close to owning that word, but no one quite like her. She has the same height as Sheila, but it is not her height that defines her, it's her eyes, that could wage a war on anyone, but come alive with a simple nod, that smile that makes my heart beat faster, the way her hair falls to the side, the way it cascades over her shoulders, the way her laugh sounds like bells,
And I watch her open it, and I see the tear, and I wonder what she must be thinking, I am counting the seconds until she comes over and slaps me, I am counting the minutes until she explodes, but after a pause, she simply turns back, curious, frightened, and I already know of what, her words still ring through me, "A little bit of both…"
And then she smiles, not full, not daring, not angry, not fake, but wondering, a smile that wonders who I am, a smile that wonders what we are, a smile that wonders what's in the bottle, a smile that hopes it pays for anything I've done, a smile that does not want to be in my debt, and so I raise an eyebrow, and she turns away, standing, picking up her bag she leaves the sky behind, and she walks out of that room, her eyes trained to the floor, her hair slipping behind her, over her right shoulder.
And as she leaves I raise my glass, toasting her uncaring attitude, as she leaves a present that is worth more than one could count and refuses riches worth more than she knows, and yet with a flick of my wand it floats away, up to her room and onto her bed, wrapped up, not this one, Rose, you can't escape this one. And so the challenge is initiated and the beginning of the end is announced.
Fred walks over to me, I watch Sheila dart from shop to shop, girls following her like a flock of sheep and I watch her laugh, and I try hard to feel something, to care, but I can't. I feel my fists form, and my nails bite into my skin, my jaw tighten, and there is some kind of regret.
"Wow there James, take a deep breath, why so tense?"
Fred's voice sounds from far away, and I glance at him, but then look back at Sheila, the way her hair falls, the way her eyes shine when she is happy, and when she is sad, I used to be mesmerized by that, didn't I? Or was I fooling myself, like I always seem to be. The act and the truth often become a confusing one that I can't focus on, that I can't decide on.
Fred shakes his head, red hair flying in every direction, his voice soft and friendly,
"Is she the one?"
I lick my lips and let my fingers unfold, a drop of blood slipping from them and crashing through the air, hitting the floor like a bullet.
"How do you ever know? I thought she was this summer, but the summer seems like years ago, and yet I owe to her to try harder,"
He raises his eyebrows,
"You don't owe her anything Jamie,"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair,
"It's complicated…"
He scoffs, rolling his eyes,
"Then let me simplify it, she can't handle you, merlin, she can't even handle the little bit of you she does know, where do you think this will go?"
I glance at him, his eyes burn into mine, and I watch them, the strength, the serenity, the fire,
"I don't know, she is really sweet…"
He laughs, but it's not because it's funny, it's because he finds it ironic,
"Come now James, let's be real, you like her because she is actually in love with you, and some part of you thinks that that makes her special, makes you special"
I shake my head, eyes downcast, and there is a rage in my veins, too much going on at once,
"Doesn't it?"
He laughs again, snorting,
"No girl has ever loved you before, they've loved the image but not you, and you think she loves you for the you, not the money, the fame, the power, the title, the power?"
I lick my lips, arching an eyebrow,
"I know she cares deeper than that, she always wants to know more, none of the others did, I think she is worth it, maybe…"
He nods, eyebrows rising,
"Fine, let's say she does, can she handle it, she is not strong, or brave, not like you, god you two don't even have the same vocabulary"
My eyes trace the floor, my hair falling into my eyes, the cold of the frosty air not reaching me, and Fred steps closer, a hand going onto my back, and then he speaks softer, kinder,
"James, when we were little I was always jealous of you, everyone loved you, everyone except you…. And now you are so brave you don't think you are allowed to show some weakness, but you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you're allowed to have a break, even if they never told you that you could…"
I feel my eyes close and I tilt my head back, chin pointing to the heavens,
"What chaos do we live in Fred, just caused by one bitter man that couldn't stand being considered to be less…."
Fred sighs, and pats my back, and then turns to leave, stopping,
"Voldemort only took the chaos already there and brought it together into a movement…"
I tilt my head back farther, and whisper, so soft I wonder is he hears it, but I see Fred shake his head and leave after I say it, leaving me empty watching the bustle of Hogsmead beneath me, and there, just beyond the shops is another girl, slipping into the old bookstore of antics, I see her blues flash, her eyes dart, and I feel something else, merlin knows what, an emotion that I have never felt before.
As Fred leaves my words follow him,
"I could grow to love her, one day, I just need a chance, just a moment to think, Fred, because being loved makes you feel so alive, I've never felt that alive"
But I see her slip into the shop, a rose in the crowd of red, and I wonder, just for a moment I see,
"James?" Her hands are warm, holding me close, helping me take my jacket off, smiling,
"How was work?" I feel my head shake, I feel her arms, the warmth they cause, the desire, the familiarity, her eyes are like an ocean, I love sailing, sailing that ocean, finding the horizon line, exploring their depths,
"I wish you could have come," She shakes her head, eyes becoming sad, empty and she steps away, head still shaking, and I see her begin to change, shape, and her eyes hold warning,
"You know I can't" I feel a fear, and she shapes, her body changing, her eyes turn dark, and her hands worn, and her hands, I know those hands so well, I remember them grabbing me, chasing me through my nightmares.
"James?"
I glance over at Veronica, her eyes are expectant,
"What?"
I sigh, rubbing my eyes,
"You know if you listened to me a little more, you would do better just generally in life,"
I smile and ruffle her hair,
"Is that so cousin?"
She grins and scans me, eyes running me up and down,
"I said why aren't you cold?"
I glance down at me, I wear combat boots and black panst, a red shirt with long sleeves, the silk so thin you can see each muscle, Sheila liked it so I put it on,
Veronica raises an eyebrow and flicks her wand handing me a tailered long black coat, the buttons shine with expense, everything on me seems to always shine with expense, I slip it on,
"Thanks"
She bumps my shoulder,
"I'm always looking out for my favourite cousin, even if you're a little weird,"
I chuckle, my breath forming clouds in the air,
"Don't tell, what would people say?"
She smiles and we walk together, away from the look out, and dwoni the streets, the eyes watching, judging, following my every movement, mirroring my every move.
She bites her lip and looks at me out of the corner of her eye,
"Did you hear about your dad?"
I run a hand through my hair and for a moment I contemplate answering with the truth, but today the sun is too bright and her eyes are too curious,
"Hear what hun? That he has the kindest eyes or has a dimple on his left cheek?"
And I give her a smile and walk away I feel her eyes follow me as I leave,
And I see the little book store and without hesitation I open the door stepping inside.
~Rose POV~
The shop is beautiful, I love the books, my hands trace them eyes fluttering shut, the weight of the world lost in the touch of the worn leather bounds. I can hear my soft breath in and out as if the writings give me life, oxygen air to breath. And then a voice like flames cuts through my oxygen, the flames taking all the oxygen in the room and leaving me shuddering,
"You going to wear it?"
I lick my lips, and feel my eyes brush open, suddenly my arms feel heavy, laden with books of all sorts and all shapes and sizes. And I walk, fingers lightly running over each binding,
"Never, and if I did it wouldn't be for you,"
He chuckles, he must be on the other side of the bookshelf, I can see his eyes glancing through the books, at me,I can feel the weight of his gaze, the weight of his unknown thoughts,
"You said you'd take out the sky and wrap yourself up in it, as it blankets you,"
My calm and quiet thoughts are shattered and I walk onwards, hands and fingertips brushing against each of their spines, and I hear his hands match my movement, the only thing between us being the books, the pages, the words, and of course the world,
"I'm aware of what I said, but I also remember not saying I would wear anything you gave me, no matter how beautiful, because I don't need the sky, I have what I need, I don't need your wealth or your gifts, ever…"
His hand slips through a gap in the books lightning fast and snatches the top book of my stack off, his reflexes like the wind itself, slipping between the wood, slipping between my focus, and his nimble fingers flip the book over reading the title, his smile electric,
"Do you need, aah, Nombs folk Dances in the 13th century?"
I groan, and run a hand through my hair, pushing it behind my ears, I realise we have stopped walking, and shake my head, pulling an answer out of thin air, with him it always seems to be a battle of wits, but since when was there an always?
"No, I don't, but that book will only cost me 2 Knuts, but your dress cost your family how much?"
He bends down, eyes matching mine so we are on the same level, and his hand reaches through the gap in the book shelf a long finger twirling a piece of my hair, eyebrows arched,
"Cost me Rose, it cost me nothing, a couple cents thrown away for a good cause, you worry too much,"
I scoff, pushing his hand away, and pretending to focus on scanning the shelves looking for elven furniture in comparison to muggle inventions during the enlightenment, while answering, packing a punch into each word,
"I understand the true expense of life, and the waste, pointless that people spend on things they don't need, there are people in this world James, in London even that starve on the streets, that beg for a penny, and instead of helping them you waste money on things that won't be used…"
He shakes his head and walks as I walk, his eyes flashing between the books, like daggers searching me, interrogating me, making me feel intoxicated,
"Then don't let it be a waste, wear it, take a stance, do you really believe that no one should have what they want, even if they can? Should we all be begging?"'
I shake my head, eyes meeting his like fire and ice,
"It's not fair,"
He licks his lips, head shaking to match mine, mocking me,
"What is?"
I stop walking turning to face him and the book shelf, and I take a step closer, so only the bookshelf separates us,
"Being a little bit selfless, letting someone else get the benefits,"
He arches an eyebrow, and leans closer whispering to me while grinning, as if it's some big secret,
"Aren't you benefitting?"
He's mocking me again, and I feel my voice begin to raise, my eyes wide with hatred,
"Do you think I'm homeless, begging you to shower me with riches? Am I that desperate to you?"
He shakes his head, eyes soft,
"I wanted to do something nice, something that would blow you away,"
I nod, stepping closer, our eyes peering over the books to glare at each other's,
"And it did, for the 5 seconds it took me to realise that you wasted hundreds of galleons on me, little, nobody me,"
And then the smile of his slips, and his hand slips through, and over the books to brush my hand, the contact catches my breath and my lips part,
"You're someone, how many times do I have to tell you that you're someone,"
And I pull away, turning away, walking onwards, and he walks parallel to me, watching me, my voice is soft, demanding, but with a soft tremble,
"No James,"
I stop walking and look into the books, not at him, through him, as if deep in thought, but my voice holds a warning,
"I shouldn't be someone to you, I shouldn't be anyone to you, so I think I should make that clear, this, whatever the hell this is, needs to end, because I had a life, and for a moment there I thought it was perfect, I chose who I spent my time with, I chose them,"
He tilts his head, shaking his head, eyebrows coming together,
"You'll never know what living is if you don't take a chance,"
I laugh, looking anywhere but at him,
"But with you? Potter, you don't even know me,"
He smiles, so soft, so utterly stunning, and this time it is his voice that is soft, his voice that drives me mad,
"I know you like your cookies straight from the oven, that you hate liars, but you love the truth, no matter how harsh, I know that you are the happiest when it's just you and a book, in your own little world, I know that you are brilliant, that you would fight for the people you love without a second glance,"
"James"
"That you would throw yourself in front of a bus for a certain Malfoy, that you only smile when no one's watching, and that you hate me, and my family, that you judge us because of our money, our fame and you constantly forget that my father is the best man anyone has ever known and he worked, we all worked to be where we are today, Rose,"
I shake my head, eyes trained on his, the bookshelf is forgotten as so is my quest for elven furnishings, and this time it is my hand, timid, and terrified that reaches for his and I feel my fingers interlace with his, the energy coursing between us, in a moment where we forget the world, and I feel my lips part and the words come like a hurricane,
"I don't, I don't hate you, merlin, I just, I think if I ever had that much influence I would be spending it to do something else, something good, to make a difference, don't you want to change the world? James, you can't live forever of you don't have the backbone to make a difference,"
He arches an eyebrow,
"The backbone?"
"Yes James, that bravery that people say you have, not the act, or the joke, but the steal behind the flesh,"
He shakes his head, and I feel his fingers let go of my hand, and the energy end, and I wonder if I have gone too far, if this strange man before me will snap, and for some reason I feel a chill of fear that he will. His voice is harsh,
"What would you know about sacrifice, you don't know anything about my life, and for once Rose, don't judge a book by its cover, I thought you were smarter than that,"
I shake my head, eyes downcast, voices hushed,
"I use my mind to deduce what I see, and I see a fraud, a little boy that has no idea what hardship is,"
He chuckles,
"And you know me so well because?"
My head keeps shaking, my eyes keep moving,
"I don't know you, but I know of you, and that if I were you I would spend every moment, of every day being grateful, helping the ones who don't have, spending that money you have on the ones that don't have, speaking up, speaking against, saying things that make me want to believe,"
"And believe in what?"
I raise my eyes to his and reach for his hand again, finding air,
"Believe in something worth my time, worth my smile, not a dress, not some money, not a jacket, not that, but a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a letter, an action,"
"And what do you think people would say, would they really listen to me, or would they think I know nothing of the hardships of life, like you think, isn't it better if I just smile, just walk,"
"And what will that change, who will that save?"
He finally meets my gaze, finally taking the offering of my hand,
"Me, or am I worth nothing?"
I stare at him and I can't breathe, I can't look away,
"Everyone is worth something, you're worth something….Oh Potter what a mess you make…"
He smiles and I feel his thumb brush over my knuckles, sending sparks up my arm, his eyes hold a grief and for a moment I worry that something happened. And so I let his hand go, resting the books on a counter behind me and I walk to the end of the bookcase and then around it, till we face each other, nothing between us. And I wait for him to speak. When he does his voice is soft,
"I don't know how to show people that I care, when I was younger, I would train a lot and whenever I did something well they'd get me a gift, and somehow the gift meant more than just what it looked like, it meant figurative things, emotions, and meanings. I don't. I didn't mean to offend you, and one day when you are feeling brave enough put it on, the dress, or sell it, give it to the poor, all those people begging for the penny's…"
I stare at him, and glance down,
"I don't want to give it away; it's too special James…"
He looks me over, and smiles soft,
"One day Rose BlackThorne you'll see how much we are alike, but until that day I look forward to battling you every moment…."
I roll my eyes and watch him leave, but I call after him, my voice soft,
"Potter, you forget that you did blow me away, and 5 seconds is like a lifetime,"
He stops and looks back, and winks, his right eye dashing shut,
"I didn't think I'd last one, but you continue to surprise me Black…"
And then he's gone. And I stare after him, my breath quick, his words replaying,
I thought you were smarter, am I worth nothing, its better if I just smile, know nothing
I blink hard, and I look down at my hands, the room seems to be spinning, and I can hardly breathe, and I watch the books fall, crashing to the floor like a hurricane,
My hands are shaking; I can feel the chill in the air run up my spine,
And I am out of the store in seconds, out of the constricting room, and up and away, my feet loud on the floor, going and going and then I stop, my hands going to my face, running over them, and I look around, there on the bed is the dress the straps are thin, it is dark blue, the tops is black and it fades into blues and whites and purples, it looks like a dream, the train long, the measurements perfect, the diamonds and the sapphires haunting.
And I swallow hard, my hand going to my head, someone clears their throat and I turn, his hair is red, his eyes curious,
"I'm Fred Weasley, and you are?"
I blink slow and glance at the dress, and then at his hand, held between his fingertips is the note James wrote, the white lace shining with expense, the gold writing reflecting off of the walls. I swallow hard, and glance at his eyes,
"I'm Rose BlackThorne, you must be looking for Veronica, she's at Hogsmead…"
He shakes his head, and looks me up and down,
"I have a funny question for you, Rose BlackThorne…"
I busy myself, not looking him in the eye,
"As I said Veronica is in Hogsmead…"
He shakes his head, eyes never leaving mine, "But I'm looking for you…"
I shake my head, "Ask your question… After all here I am"
He smiles and steps forward, I feel myself step back,
"Did James take you to Diagon Alley last night to get you that dress?"
I feel my heart skip a beat, the answer is no, I remember last night like a sliver of heaven, the way I found my way downstairs climbing into bed, watching the stars unable to fall asleep, wondering what he was doing, wondering why he liked my smile. I toss my hair, and arch an eyebrow,
"James who?"
He tilts his head to the right, "Potter, James Sirius Potter… Did he take you out until 4 p.m. on a school night, Rose BlackThorne?"
There is something in the way he watches me that makes me think that this is bigger than me, the sadness in James' eyes, and the specific address of Diagon Alley that this is bigger than us, that whatever this is. And if only I knew that what I say will change my future, everyone's future, but James was right about one thing, I can play my role, and so I smile, arching an eyebrow, why, merlin knows, I don't know why, because maybe some part of me felt like I owed James something for the dress, for his honesty, for the way he never pushes me too far.
"Of course, we went out late, got back to the dorms around 4:15, we were doing a project, he offered to get me a present, and had this already made as a surprise,"
He steps forward, and raises his eyebrows, watching me gesture to the dress,
"And while you were in Diagon Alley did you witness an attack?"
I raise my chin, heart beating a million miles an hour and I smile my best, and pretend to look confused, which isn't that hard, because I am confused,
"Of course not, an attack on who?"
He shakes his head and goes to the door way only turning back to look me over,
"I've never seen someone lie for him before, which either means you're stupid or you care, and since you're in Ravenclaw somehow I think it's the second one…"
I feel my lips part, and I am left alone in the room, as the note is left behind fluttering to the floor, looking like the feather of an angel's wing. What have I gotten myself into?
