l'osservatore della bellezza | wolfstar

these wrongs cannot be made right

When dawn rises, do you ever notice how long it takes for the sun to arrive?

First, there's just that deep, dark, endless blue, stretching on with the illusion of forever. But time takes away its infinity, minute by minute, contaminating it with light till the stars are brushed over and the comfort of night is screwed into a ball and tucked away in a corner. Even when the sun is not there, it is powerful, overbearing, with its scrabbling fingers and scratching nails. And its sudden appearance blinds you, its shine raw and vivid and burning; it is a fire that is fatal, a light that is intolerable. Yes, there is beauty, but one that is brassy and inelegant, and you can't help but wish that the clawing sun would leave again and give way to the dark once more.

These were the thoughts that ran through James' mind, that dawn. He was not usually so cynical, but Sirius had been absent for well over a month and a half now, so his mood was more often than not disgruntled.

When he wasn't disgruntled, he was miserable, longing to see his friend again (and hit him over the head for disappearing without a word). No one knew where he was; Peter had told him vaguely what had happened between Sirius and that Lupin, but swore neither he nor his bastard of a friend could say where Sirius had gone. It seemed Sirius Black had disappeared off the face of the earth.

Lupin has addressed to him a letter, nearly two weeks ago, but James (in his anger towards him) had ignored it. Peter had implored James to not be mad - apparently there was more to the story than Peter was at liberty to say, but hell, if Sirius had gone silent because of Remus, no amount of pleading would shake his fury.

His only respite was Lily. Wonderful Lily, with her heated gaze and her fierce heart, currently sitting too close to him on the divan by the balcony, her hands in her lap.

They hadn't spent the night together, at least, not in that sense. In the midst of conversation, their daily walk had just happened to take them through the night and close to the morning, at which point James had offered for Lily to come and have some tea (and Lily had not declined).

To be fair, James had to admit, the sun wasn't so hideous when it touched her: her face glowed as if dipped in gold, and her hair was a wildfire, and her eyes were ethereal. Her makeup had faded, over the course of the night, and underneath it her freckles were like dark stars that absorbed light instead of emitting it.

Leaning back, she stifled a yawn behind her hand. "My, I need sleep."

"I have a bed available."

"Whose bed?" Her eyes were alight as she looked at him.

He cleared his throat. "Whoever's you fancy."

"I thank you, James, but it isn't proper, whatever that's supposed to mean." A smirk. "Although the offer is certainly tempting, don't misunderstand me, I should be getting home."

"I know. Just... stay a little longer?"

The smirk became a smile. "Alright."

So they stayed there, seemingly happy, but through the corner of her eye Lily could see James' face fall again. Her heart ached a little at that; she knew about his friend, Sirius, and wanted desperately to make things better. Alas, what could she do? She could barely help her own friends, let alone someone else's.

This pondering led to her thinking of Marlene, who was to be married in two weeks. Lily had never seen her so quiet, so subdued, as if someone had reached inside her and crushed her spirit. But whenever she asked her what was wrong, Marlene pinned a smile onto her face and nattered on about wedding jitters. It was infuriating.

"You're quiet."

James blinked. "I'm tired."

"No wonder, but it's not that, is it?" She turned towards him. "Is there really no one who would know where Sirius is?"