Past - In the previous chapter, Caleb is a tit... erm... Remus and Sirius sort of resolve things... ish... but it isn't in my chapter so if you haven't read it you need to go to Andraste...
Also, as a celebration of our 50TH CHAPTER (100th if you add them both together), we've made this one SUPER LONG and SUPER SPECIAL... hope you can bear it ;) Enjoy and review!
Morning had sprung to life around me, beautiful, bright. Everything more wonderful than what I'd become so used to; everything smiling and waiting for dusk, for the dance, for Remus to press his delicate hands into my chest and return my heart. I could still feel his lips on my forehead, the soft pressure lingering overnight, making the whole world sing as I sauntered about my day.
X
He stood in front of the mirror, fumbling with his tie, shirt, waistcoat, trying to make everything as perfect as humanly possible, though I wasn't sure that it was going to be that hard. I was only a few feet behind him, watching his head as his hair glistened gold and yellow in the light, his lengths running against the silk that covered his back with every tiny movement he made. My hand twitched beside me, yearning you touch it, to feel it once more; slowly progressing out in front of me on its own accord. Part of myself tried to stop it, reign it back in, but the rest of my being pushed it forward, knowing the satisfying taste even a moment of contact with the fine strings would give, confident that last night's deal had hummed a silent declaration that this was permitted. For a blissful second, my fingers grazed the very tips of his hair. But he stepped away from my hand, off to the side, looking slightly flustered and a little uncertain.
"Erm... do you want to use the mirror to put on your... err... cravat?" He chocked – in a voice almost unrecognisable to his usual charming accent – despite the fact that it had been neatly done up for the past 10 minutes.
I shuffled about my clothes for a while, staring at myself alone in the mirror, wondering why, regarding my dream as its walls slowly showed signs of giving. I hoped that it wouldn't stay like this, this sudden nervousness after we'd pulled ourselves over the first hurdle. Maybe he was scared I'd hurt him again. Maybe what had happened last night was a dream.
"You know," smiled Remus, sitting himself down on top of his trunk. "It's going to be really fun seeing everyone together all dressed up like grownups. I mean I've already seen the dress Lily's wearing – it's stunning, James'll be so proud!" The his head dipped a little, quiet symptoms of a cheerful grin appearing on his face. "I'm really glad that we've made up now, so there are no hard feelings. It'll be good to be able to dance with you as just a friend..."
I gave an acknowledging grunt, mind too preoccupied with the crumple of my world to form a coherent sentence.
As just a friend...
I felt my body collapse in on itself, implode, to create a gaping black hole in my head, a dementor to suck all of the happiness from my very existence.
"Look, and Caleb got me a tie to match his! Isn't that cute?" He beamed, pointing at his neck.
"You accepted something from Kaadweeb?" I laughed, knowing if I didn't I would have cried.
"Anyway," he stood and did a twirl. "How do I look?"
A moment passed where I had no idea what to say.
Then, I moved towards him with the solemn face of a father ready to give away his daughter's hand in marriage, placed a subtle kiss on his cheek and sighed "You look stunning..." before leaving the dorm to sort my music and cry silently.
X
My fingers pushed off the keys, carefully leaping back onto my lap and waiting for the hall around me to pause. I'd done my half of the deal, right. I could get out of this room, this feeling of despair, let my hair down and hope to be free.
I snatched my sheets from the stand to the faint rumble of applause and marched down to the steps.
Franz Liszt, Consolation 2 in E major. Consolation my arse! My hands still trembled as I played, as I watched from the corner of my eye the only man I had ever truly loved smiling in the arms of another, as my head dissected every movement he'd ever made, word he'd ever spoken to look for clues. This was no consolation. My whole body still clenched despite the music, stabbed within me, killed me when his eyes made momentary contact with mine. I still would have been happy to drop dead not matter how beautiful it sounded. I still had to bend toward the piano's body and make sure that the loose parts of hair masked my face so the whole of the school didn't have to see me cry.
Remus didn't even care to stay for the end of the song I'd learnt for him, and still it didn't warm me.
"That was beautiful," Fabian smiled as I dropped myself off the last step, hugging my arm. "But you didn't play the sheet music I got you..."
I gave a slight shrug. "Moonlight Sonata isn't really appropriate for a dance."
"Why not?" He whined, squeezing my arm tighter.
"Because it's depressing, overrated and just not the sort of thing you can dance to..."
He laughed and pointed to my neck. "You also didn't wear the tie I got you!"
"It ruined my outfit," I grumbled.
"What does it feel like to have such a large cloud of despair floating over your head?" He smirked. "Don't get too close to the girls or it might rain on their dresses!"
"Don't tempt me..."
"You're acting rather sardonic today, aren't you? Even Remus said-"
"I don't care..." I grunted.
"- that when you were getting dr-"
"I SAID I DON'T CARE WHAT REMUS HAS TO SAY!"
He was taken aback at my yell, now standing a few feet away from me, eyes wide, hands shaking at his side in what looked like a mix of hurt and fear. I instantly regretted it. He was the last thing I had left, the last thing I could call my own.
For a minute I thought he was going to cry before he looked up at me with a soft smile.
"You know, I was stupid to think that I could trap you like one of those girls, so I could keep the infamous Sirius Black all to myself, I really was... I don't know how I thought it would work with a man so obviously smitten with someone else... and yet I marched through hoping for the best and when it didn't come I pushed and pushed and pushed and now we're standing here... I knew that it would turn out like this, being left with a broken heart... well... not quite broken but slightly brazen..."
He lifted his hand up to wipe below his eye, drawing the damp onto his finger.
"Fabes, look, I'm sorry..."
He grinned at me again, keeping to his cheerful, mocking self. "Well it was a riot while it lasted but now I think I'm gonna go find myself a 6th year with knockers the size of beach balls. Adois!"
"No, Fabian, please don't go, I-"
Though I found myself stopping, tired of empty words and false hopes. They would only hurt more in the long run. Besides, I might be able to learn from myself, my mistakes; maybe this pain would make me a better man in the long run.
I shifted from my spot at the bottom of the stage - tired of the people that were now surrounding and staring as if attempting to get a glimpse of my torn soul - not caring where my legs were taking me: I just needed to breathe, to be alone.
X
I dragged myself up the final step, looking down the spiralling staircase to the cold glint of marble floor at the very bottom, listening half-heartedly to the unhurried patter of footsteps echoing from space below.
My body turned to face the openness of the astronomy tower, to feel the cool night-time gently run its fingertips over my features, to hear the faint rush of the wind as it swam through the very tops of the trees. Such was a place my essence had sought for, a quaint repose in the face of all this hideous mayhem, like fair blue silk on the gown of a heartless queen.
Slowly, I paced towards the icy metal railings, staring out across the landscape; each star glittering, piercing silver through the ominous black; the dregs of the day resting dark blue at foot of the sky, leaving fading silhouettes of the world behind itself. If you bent forward far enough, you could see the orange glow of the festivities in the hall sliding through the archways, maybe even the soft definition of a gathering of people, or a couple, relaxing outside, their conversations resonating against the deathly silence.
I found myself letting go for just a moment at the peace around me, arms resting on the bars, eyes closed in sweet harmony. My iron grip on the paper loosened a little, no longer scared of the water that hid in the glands, no longer at any need to try and force them back. Because, of course, they wouldn't come – I didn't have the energy in me anymore to spend my time crying.
Carefully, I opened my eyes to the tickling sheets of music slipping from my fingers, to regard them as they caroused across the nothing in front of me, gliding outwards into the real world – wondering how blissful life would be as an inanimate object without the mistake that is called love and human compassion.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Came a voice behind me, startling me a little. "Though I don't think it's clever wasting the music you spent so long perfecting, hmm..."
His face stayed as calm and composed as ever. A comforting smile resting in the groves of his aged skin as he lent against the railing and stared into the distance as if in deep though.
"Though the most stunning things on this earth can be the most painful, the most tearing life can give us. You, Sirius, need to learn that love is one of those things."
I turned my head from the old man, pulling my hair from its ties so there was a clear barrier between us – I came here to relax, not you get lectured.
"But what would I know? I'm just an old headmaster..." He sighed, words fraying at the edges to show the slightest glimpse of worn sorrow.
I felt a little of myself seeping from within him, in the flavour of his words, compelling me to look at his face, to share a moment of common ground. Though, when I turned to him he didn't look sad, just holding the expression of a man lost firmly in the past. And then, as if awakening from a dream, he became alert once more.
"You know, your friends really do care about you," he smiled, warmheartedly patting me on the back and turning to leave.
My eyes followed him as he exited the tower, eyes lingering at the top of the stairs as a quiet crack of disapparation echoed through the hole, hoping for something more interesting to jump through, something warm looking, soft, something that gave the impression it could give me the hug I really needed.
Though the something that appeared was nothing like what I needed, his sharp blue eyes pouncing through the night-time air, latching their claws to my chest and tearing to get at the cold glass below as he progressed towards me. I knew he didn't intend to hurt me, he was already looking sore enough himself, but something about his presence only drew grey clouds around my head.
He sighed, resting his back against the bars, looking up into the roof in what seemed to be an attempt to refrain from making direct eye contact with me. I hadn't really noticed before how slender and tall he'd actually become in my absence, legs stretching out in front of him, tightly hugged by his satin trousers. If I hadn't know any better, I would have wanted to jump on him that very moment, but I wasn't that Sirius Black anymore.
Remus's head turned to me, rather sheepishly at first, and then he heaved.
"Clabe's a dickhead..."
"I could have told you that about 5 months ago when you started dating him," I grunted, not ready to have his problems shoved upon me when I had a way to go before I got over my own.
"I know, I think you did actually... I just didn't want to listen to you because... well… I don't know..."
I propped my arm on the bar and looked over my shoulder at the darkness outside of the grounds. As much as I would have loved to say something back, even let myself accept what sounded so much like an apology, the vital words eluded me. So for a short while, I watched him as he played with his hair, removed his tie and loosened his shirt in an all to seductive manner.
"It's so good to be able to breathe, alone like this, away from all the people down there, " he smiled, inhaling slowly, deeply, each breath measured and perfect.
"You're not alone if I'm here..."
"Ok then," he grinned, eyes holding a hint of slyness in their depths. "Alone like this... with you..."
The tips of his fingers brushed at the front of my hair, smoothing it out; carefully twisting and twirling about it as they drew further and further into the dark mess. I couldn't quite goad myself into stopping him, basking in the warmth of his touch, the tingling at my scalp, the prosperity of human contact. And slowly, I let him touch my lips, let ours play, dance in a rush of longing and excitement. I wanted him so much, down to the deepest, darkest corners of my existence. But that meant nothing, nothing at all in reality.
I pulled off of him.
"Please… Please just stop… Please don't do this… I can see that Caleb's hurt you somehow… but this is worthless if you don't love me…"
"And what if I do?"
He clutched at my arm, preventing me from moving any further away.
"But that's the thing, you don't… you're just playing around and frankly all you're doing is wasting your energy… what can you get from this other than pulling me lower than I already am?"
"That's not what I'm trying to do!"
"Then what? What is it? Do you think this is some kind of game that you can play with Kaaleeb? Let me tell you now I have nothing left! Absolutely nothing!"
I let out a long heartfelt sight, hoisting myself up to perch on the railings.
"You know… sometimes I think this is all a dream… a horrible nightmare that I might be able to wake from…" I paused, tilting my head over the gap a bit to observe the ground below. "… if I just… jumped… if I just hit the ground I'd wake up flailing and realise it was all in my head… and I'd stop the dare… and we'd all be… all be fine…"
"Sirius…?" Remus gurgled, eyebrows arched, staring at me nervously. "Please don't do something stupid."
I heaved another long sigh.
"Don't worry… This world is too alive… There's too much wind and sound and smells and feelings… too much…"
I stuck my arm out, opening my fingers and letting the cool spring air play between them. So soothing, comforting, wrapping itself around my hand. On a momentary impulse, I found myself standing on the metal strip, arms spread, catching the wind, letting it run about my body, fumble in my hair like the hands of a lost lover. Even as I leant back it held me tight, propping me up, preventing me from falling; the quiet rush massaging my back in little pushes.
"Sirius… Sirius, come down… be careful…"
I tilted my head back, eyes closed, to feel with the power of all my senses.
"Sirius… Are you listening to me? Please, just-"
"It feels beautiful, Rems, beautiful. Come on, come up here!"
"It's dangerous," he called, apprehension hanging in the back of his throat. "I don't want either of us to get hurt…"
I opened my eyes to look down at him, pushing a calm smile across my features and outreaching a hand to his level.
"Trust me, I won't let you fall."
His fingers quivered hesitantly beside him, balling into a uneasy, red fist. Thenceforth, it rose, spreading out in small, uncertain jerks, to rest at my fingertips in a comforting lock. An odd happiness pulsed through my veins at the kindly touch, sending a pleased tremble to move my body. I really hadn't believed he'd make such a gesture, that he would actually hand his safety over for my keeping.
"Remus! What are you doing? Let go of that piece of scum this instant!"
He flinched a little at the voice that growled from behind, the voice that I thoroughly despised. I couldn't tell if it was from hate or fear or some kind of twisted form of love and obligation, but something moved within him from that sound, something stirred, to draw him to look at me with a face of pity, a face that only meant 'Sorry', before he pulled apart our fingers.
It would not have been possible, at that moment, to have wished more that our hands had been merged the instant they had touched, so we were spared the inevitability of parting. But such was life, or mine at least.
And when he turned his back on me, my chest shook, ringing back on itself that terrible note, shivering, distorting under the pain. It wasn't worth it anymore. I wasn't even sure if it was worth it in the first place, but at least I had the peace of mind back then – I hadn't quite managed to have the same thing stolen off me, twice, at the hand of the same monstrosity.
"I'm sorry, Moony," I called to the back of his head. "I'm sorry for all the heart break, all the problems, the mistakes, the bad times… For what it's worth, I'm even sorry for the good times for making the bad times feel so much worse!"
With the last words in me served to him, I pushed back once more to feel the wind fly past my ears, to watch the nights sky. And as the world tumbled upwards in a blur, I regarded the crystal shards pull from my eyes and run in the up flowing air, hoping that a kindly star would catch them, take pity on what remained of my glass heart.
XX
There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either after one of those dreamless nights that make us almost enamoured of death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy, when through the chambers of the brain sweep phantoms more terrible than reality itself, and instinct with the vivid life that lurks in all grotesques, and that lends to Gothic art it's enduring vitality, this art being, one might fancy, especially the art of those whose minds have been troubled by the malady of reverie. Gradually white fingers creep through the curtains, and they appear to tremble. In black fantastic shapes, dumb shadows crawl into corners of the room, and crouch there. Outside, there is the stirring of birds among the leaves, or the sound of men going to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind coming down from the hills, and wandering round the house, as though it feared to wake the sleepers, and yet must needs call forth sleep from her purple cave. Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by the degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remake the world in its antique pattern. The wan mirrors get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book we had been studying, or the wired flower we had worn to the ball, or the letter we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often. Nothing seems to us unchanged. Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. We have to resume it where we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may be, that our eye lids might open some morning to a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance even of joy having its bitterness, and the memories of pleasure their pain.
- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray