Shut Up, Padfoot!

81

James

"Happy birthday, mate! Blow your candles out!" Arthur exclaimed.

My lids stung as I numbly looked up. The skin around my eyes ran raw with sleep deprivation and silent sobs these past few nights. I scanned the Marauders' faces. All solemn expressions mirroring mine.

Wormtail mustered a pathetic put together smile to lighten my mood. His eyes didn't crinkle like they used to when he smiled or laughed anymore. The shy spark in his eyes dulled and I noticed the worn cuffs of his sweaters more often. He picked at the strings and fisted them subconciously.

There's nothing I can do.

Or more so wanted to do.

Sirius clenched his jaw, the present in his hands creased when he stiffened visibly. Slowly blinking, I refocused on the cake.

"Happy birthday, Cry," I murmured.

Quickly, I blew the candles out.

One candle remained upright and I sighed before blowing one more time to cease its fire.

The common room erupted in cheers with the clinking of glasses. Liquid splattered from their drinks and they threw their heads back. Under My Thumb played on the turntable. The lights dimmed and someone charmed flashing lights.

We dispersed and I lost sight of any of the others. Lily said she was going to get some drinks so I'm left alone.

My back hit a wall and I surveyed the party. Everyone seemed so cheerful. As if the death of our fellow classmate was irrelevant. They have housed with her for more than half a decade.

But even if they didn't know her like we do, I know they're carrying some of our tragedy. They're partying to let go of the feeling. They'll dance until blisters form and they'll continue after their scabs bleed.

Our graduating class is mourning her in their own way. Downing alcohol and smoking packs like water. We find every excuse to throw another party. Hell, Spring Halloween is coming soon.

"Oi, birthday boy." I heard.

I turned to look at my caller. Hestia stumbled lightly into my vicinity. They loosely held their bottle and a joint between their fingers. Their messy hair framed and covered a lot of their face. Wasted.

"Wanna hit?" they slurred.

Their lazy hand tilted the joint invitingly. I scrunched my brows and stared at it. We don't talk much. They didn't know Cry that well either.

"What's in it?" I questioned.

The corner of their mouth curled and they whispered, "Cannabis."

My eyes flickered between it and their face. Is this something I should do? Would Cry say it's okay? Or would she ignore them entirely? They don't seem like her type of person. Deciding that I deserve a break, I plucked it from them. I brought it to my mouth and inhaled.

My throat constricted and I coughed. They howled with laughter as I pounded on my chest. Their voice was raspy, common with those who yell through the night and smoke anytime they're awake.

"C'mon, try one more time. The first is the worst. You don't have to do it again if you want after this," they urged.

The grimace on my face must've made them say that. Their heavily black lined eyes were red and somewhat, comforting. They're a mess. Their clothes had holes and were raggedy. Rings glittered everytime the lights flashed. Even when they do wear their uniform, the same effortless grunge look remained.

They're a physical representation of my mindset.

"Okay. But only this last time," I confirmed.

Hestia nodded, their honey irises glinted as they smiled reassuringly. Turning away, I repeated the action. I inhaled and like they said, it was easier. Smoke tendrils float upward and grew thin. They camouflaged in the atmosphere as other students smoked their own.

They retrieved their joint and wordlessly stepped away. A popular rock song came on and they bounced off. Their figure disappeared within the crowd.

I followed but took a different route. Someone's body rammed into mine and then another into my back. Dizziness overtook me but I entered the horde.

My vision blurred and it's so- so fluid. So smooth and curvy. The lights grew brighter and my posture slacked. Swallowing, I looked upward.

Purple ambience lifted from my hair strands and float away. I watched it disperse in the cement ceiling. So pretty. Is that the misery? I'm so glad it's gone.

"James!"

"Oh... Lily-pad," I softly greeted.

The feeling of her hands on my elbows was made aware when I saw it. Her palms look like they're welded into my shirt. Her freckles are so vibrant and colorful. Have they always flickered like that?

"Are you drunk? Did you take something?" she asked.

"Noo.." I replied.

I can't make out what look she has on right now. Is she smiling? This feels.. so good. I just want to kiss her. She's stunning. Now that the misery is gone, I think I can love her properly. Maybe I can give her a breathtaking kiss. I think I would like to.

"Okay, let's go sit down, shall we?" she proposed.

She grabbed me by my wrist and I frowned, trying to discern the problem. Everything's okay now. All of the pain is gone. Why is she upset?

My body felt so feather-like. I only noticed until I took a seat on the couch. I looked around, seeing Padfoot in front of the fireplace. He stirred the wood with the poker. The orange illuminated his skin.

"I'm going to get you some water, you stay here, hun," she told.

As I watched the fire dance, the warm colors rippled like an interrupted lake on his silhouette. Growing fascinated, I squinted to take the scene in longer.

"Prongs, I hope it was worth it," he suddenly said.

I leaned back in the couch, not realizing I was on the edge of the cushions until now. I asked, "What are you talking about?"

He looked over his shoulder, faking a grin. Sparkles that Lily put on him earlier glittered and messed with my head. What's so wrong? What's going on? I swear, I made it all right just a moment ago.

"Nothing. Happy birthday, Prongs," he dismissed.

"It's not my birthday, it's Fawkes'," I honestly corrected.

"Yeah, it's hers too. Celebrate for the three of us, alright?" he responded.

"O-okay."

-lana