I close my eyes and I see him. He swirls me up and round and down and round and up again, and I feel so special, with the moonlight and the stars and the music and his heartbeat right next to mine. I hear his voice, no louder than a whisper. He is singing to me, beneath the moon, under the stars, singing so quiet only I can hear it. So quiet I don't know if I am hearing it or if it's a dream, a heavenly wish and a hope passed down from the shooting star that dances above, moving us into a dreamy rhythm we can feel but no one can imagine.
We look at each other in the eyes, our hands clasped around one another's faces, glaring into deep pools of glory and beauty. At least I am, staring into his eyes so grey and so blue and so green and so brown and so hazel and so ebony and so calm and so deep and yet only one shade that seems to represent one thousand emotions, one thousand colours. We glare and we bring ourselves closer to each other, our breathing gaining pace. Our faces are almost touching now, our lips parted, his slightly wet after he runs his tongue along them. Our lips part more, and I slip my tongue into his mouth, taste cigarettes and peppermint, feel the glorious velvet of your tongue slowly caressing my own. Then there's a crash
and I jolt up with a start
my heart racing, my palms sweating.
"James, I can't find it!"
I turn to see Sirius crouching down beside my bed, digging his hands underneath. He's looking for something of little importance. Maybe his broom. Maybe a pawn that has disappeared.
"Try under my bed!" comes a voice from the bottom of the stairs.
"I've looked there already. Geez, what more do you want me to do?"
I sigh, because I know that my dream was just a dream, and I have no hope in Hell of making it a reality. I could never confess my love to this secret boy in my dreams, because he never existed and never will exist. The point is that Sirius Black is a far different boy from the one I dream about, the one who takes me dancing and treats me like royalty. Sirius' idea of a good date would probably consist of Quidditch and then a quick shag. Not that I know. I've never asked him. I never want to ask him. I'm too scared of the answer. And if I'm too scared of that answer, Icould never tell him I love him.
But if I did and Sirius told me he loved me, I don't know what I'd do. I don't know if I could settle for second best. I don't know if I could do it. I don't know if I could hold Sirius, the boy of my dreams, in my arms and let go to my fantasy. I don't know if I could kiss him passionately and roughly, whilst the Sirius in my dreams is whispering sweet nothings into my ear, and the Remus of my dreams is smirking at me, laughing at me, for accepting less than what he deserves.
I still love him. I love him for his wit and his charm. That's why I first fell in love with him. I know people change, I've changed. But have I changed so much that I can't stay in love with the most wonderful person I've ever met? Do I have to make him second best? Can he not be the best, the pride of my life?
But that's all if he falls in love with me. And boys like him would never fall in love with someone like me.
We look at each other in the eyes, our hands clasped around one another's faces, glaring into deep pools of glory and beauty. At least I am, staring into his eyes so grey and so blue and so green and so brown and so hazel and so ebony and so calm and so deep and yet only one shade that seems to represent one thousand emotions, one thousand colours. We glare and we bring ourselves closer to each other, our breathing gaining pace. Our faces are almost touching now, our lips parted, his slightly wet after he runs his tongue along them. Our lips part more, and I slip my tongue into his mouth, taste cigarettes and peppermint, feel the glorious velvet of your tongue slowly caressing my own. Then there's a crash
and I jolt up with a start
my heart racing, my palms sweating.
"James, I can't find it!"
I turn to see Sirius crouching down beside my bed, digging his hands underneath. He's looking for something of little importance. Maybe his broom. Maybe a pawn that has disappeared.
"Try under my bed!" comes a voice from the bottom of the stairs.
"I've looked there already. Geez, what more do you want me to do?"
I sigh, because I know that my dream was just a dream, and I have no hope in Hell of making it a reality. I could never confess my love to this secret boy in my dreams, because he never existed and never will exist. The point is that Sirius Black is a far different boy from the one I dream about, the one who takes me dancing and treats me like royalty. Sirius' idea of a good date would probably consist of Quidditch and then a quick shag. Not that I know. I've never asked him. I never want to ask him. I'm too scared of the answer. And if I'm too scared of that answer, Icould never tell him I love him.
But if I did and Sirius told me he loved me, I don't know what I'd do. I don't know if I could settle for second best. I don't know if I could do it. I don't know if I could hold Sirius, the boy of my dreams, in my arms and let go to my fantasy. I don't know if I could kiss him passionately and roughly, whilst the Sirius in my dreams is whispering sweet nothings into my ear, and the Remus of my dreams is smirking at me, laughing at me, for accepting less than what he deserves.
I still love him. I love him for his wit and his charm. That's why I first fell in love with him. I know people change, I've changed. But have I changed so much that I can't stay in love with the most wonderful person I've ever met? Do I have to make him second best? Can he not be the best, the pride of my life?
But that's all if he falls in love with me. And boys like him would never fall in love with someone like me.
