This is a one shot. There are stories similiar, and there'll be more
stories based around the things I've written in this. But this is a one of
a kind, and there'll be no prequel, sequel or any more chapters.
Disclaimer: Everyone knows these characters aren't mine. They belong to JK Rowling, as they're figments of her imagination, and maybe those people she works for at the various publishing companies. I wouldn't know. I'm not taking advantage of these characters, I'm just watching them squirm.
[Cold As The Stars]
My tongue, dancing with yours. Curling around yours. Drawing you in, tasting your laughter. I want to devour you in an instant, want to take you into my world and kill of those last little fragments of yourself. But I don't.
Of course, fantasies are fantasies, and I do nothing but sit and watch you as you apply the glitter above your eye. I do nothing but sit on the windowsill, and escape into my mind. Just as I have always done. Just as I will continue to do, past the day when we leave this school, and the day when you go and marry a beautiful young woman. Past the day when you tell me you don't love me, and spit in my face. I'll do this forever, and one day I'll stop loving you.
The music in the room is cheerful and airy, and there's nothing but sun streaming in through the windows. Still, I'm cold on this April morning, and I know why. You. Your beauty is chilling, and your lips cut cold. Like the old song, your persian lips sparkle. That's you. You, as you cover yourself in paint, and expect to catch the eye of everyone. But not me. Not your best nameless faceless friend.
I wonder if there's truth in the rumours. I wonder if it's true that you're my friend. I see nothing about that. I love you, I'm in love with you, but I detest you for it. I hate you because you're never nice to me, never in the way I want you to be. You discard me, and talk to the girls and James. I try my hardest to catch your eye, but it never works. Sometimes I fear it never will do.
But really I don't mind. I don't mind the fact that you don't notice me. I don't mind the fact that, yet again, I'm not noticed by the one person I want to notice me more than anyone on this Earth. It's the fact you're my friend. One of my best friends, they say. Although you never talk to me, never do anything but smile and tell jokes. I wish one day you'd care for me like I care for you.
No one knows. No one but the cabinet that sits beside my bed at home, where I once scratched 'Remus 4 Sirius' into the surface when I was too young to realise that crushes were nothing to be proud of. When I was too young to know that it was love. That's what it is. Love. I know we're made for each other, even if you don't. You think you're made for the rockstars you see in your magazines. You think you're made for the boy you caught a glimpse of in Muggle London. You think you're made for anyone but me.
I watch your face. Your eyes are astounding. They cut out of your pale face, ice grey, ruby blue. The line of black kohl which stands around them does everything for you, but I know that you look just as astonishing without the make up. Your cheekbones stand out with the pale blue blusher, making you seem like a sexy alien that everyone can look at but no one can touch. Or is that just me? Your hair is grey black, washing down your back in thick streams.
You are cold. There's nothing about you that is warm. Apart from that smile. That smile that could never tell a lie if it tried. That smile that contradicts the rest of its person. That smile that makes me want to jump up and down, and kiss you. That smile that could make me happier than anyone on this planet. That smile that makes me want to fall in love with you once a day for all of eternity. That smile that makes me want to wake up beside you, fall asleep with you, and spend every other moment kissing you.
But I won't. Because I am Remus, and you are Sirius.
Disclaimer: Everyone knows these characters aren't mine. They belong to JK Rowling, as they're figments of her imagination, and maybe those people she works for at the various publishing companies. I wouldn't know. I'm not taking advantage of these characters, I'm just watching them squirm.
[Cold As The Stars]
My tongue, dancing with yours. Curling around yours. Drawing you in, tasting your laughter. I want to devour you in an instant, want to take you into my world and kill of those last little fragments of yourself. But I don't.
Of course, fantasies are fantasies, and I do nothing but sit and watch you as you apply the glitter above your eye. I do nothing but sit on the windowsill, and escape into my mind. Just as I have always done. Just as I will continue to do, past the day when we leave this school, and the day when you go and marry a beautiful young woman. Past the day when you tell me you don't love me, and spit in my face. I'll do this forever, and one day I'll stop loving you.
The music in the room is cheerful and airy, and there's nothing but sun streaming in through the windows. Still, I'm cold on this April morning, and I know why. You. Your beauty is chilling, and your lips cut cold. Like the old song, your persian lips sparkle. That's you. You, as you cover yourself in paint, and expect to catch the eye of everyone. But not me. Not your best nameless faceless friend.
I wonder if there's truth in the rumours. I wonder if it's true that you're my friend. I see nothing about that. I love you, I'm in love with you, but I detest you for it. I hate you because you're never nice to me, never in the way I want you to be. You discard me, and talk to the girls and James. I try my hardest to catch your eye, but it never works. Sometimes I fear it never will do.
But really I don't mind. I don't mind the fact that you don't notice me. I don't mind the fact that, yet again, I'm not noticed by the one person I want to notice me more than anyone on this Earth. It's the fact you're my friend. One of my best friends, they say. Although you never talk to me, never do anything but smile and tell jokes. I wish one day you'd care for me like I care for you.
No one knows. No one but the cabinet that sits beside my bed at home, where I once scratched 'Remus 4 Sirius' into the surface when I was too young to realise that crushes were nothing to be proud of. When I was too young to know that it was love. That's what it is. Love. I know we're made for each other, even if you don't. You think you're made for the rockstars you see in your magazines. You think you're made for the boy you caught a glimpse of in Muggle London. You think you're made for anyone but me.
I watch your face. Your eyes are astounding. They cut out of your pale face, ice grey, ruby blue. The line of black kohl which stands around them does everything for you, but I know that you look just as astonishing without the make up. Your cheekbones stand out with the pale blue blusher, making you seem like a sexy alien that everyone can look at but no one can touch. Or is that just me? Your hair is grey black, washing down your back in thick streams.
You are cold. There's nothing about you that is warm. Apart from that smile. That smile that could never tell a lie if it tried. That smile that contradicts the rest of its person. That smile that makes me want to jump up and down, and kiss you. That smile that could make me happier than anyone on this planet. That smile that makes me want to fall in love with you once a day for all of eternity. That smile that makes me want to wake up beside you, fall asleep with you, and spend every other moment kissing you.
But I won't. Because I am Remus, and you are Sirius.