Shut Up, Padfoot!

27

I can hear my breath.

Rain pattered on my skin. Heat waves sizzled down under the droplets. My back ached and I could see the sky circle above me.

Groaning, I peered sky high. Birds flapped against the wind in desperation to get back to their nest. The clouds swirled like paint in their pot and I breathed quietly.

My robes are in ashes. My body feels renewed. I am reborn.

"Cry? Cry, shit shit shit, Cry!"

My heart soared and my throat closed up. His voice brought me back. He loves storms but I've cursed them now. Rainy days will bring bad memories.

I'm here. I'm really here.

I'm alive.

Tears welled up and I demanded myself to keep them in. Footsteps tread on the grass, rustling closer by the second. My body felt cold and I noticed my clothing was gone as well.

"Padfoot?" I weakly called.

My voice felt small and incredibly insignificant in this world. The wet blades of grass thread between my fingers.

With some effort, I stabbed my fingertips into the ground and anchored myself. Trying to lift myself up, the slick of the rain made my hand slip.

My back slammed into the earth once again. Holding back tears, I pounded my fist into the ground with frustration. Goddamnit, I'm so weak.

"Oh my god," I heard his voice.

Suddenly, he fell to his knees by my side.

I choked on my emotion but relief filled me as I saw his worried eyes above me. His face is covered with his tears and my heart ached.

"Siri.. I-" I stammered.

His hands shook as he held my face in them. He gasped out and laid his forehead atop of mine. He laughed out and cried at the same time.

"You're alive, you're alive.. you're alive," he chanted.

Grunting, I watched his closed eyes and delight on his face close to mine. His body soaked in the rain but he didn't care.

"Yeah-" I choked a laugh out, "-I'm.. I'm alive, Siri," I confirmed with disbelief.

"God, thank you. Thank you," he cried.

I swallowed and shivered. He noticed, pulling away. Quickly, he slipped out of his robes and draped them over my bare body.

Grasping his forearm, I struggled to pull myself to my elbows. My breath quickened and I grew lightheaded. The act became difficult and I wish I never was here.

"Fuck! Why can't I just do this!" I yelled in the downpour.

His hand pressed on the small of my back and he supported me instead of letting me do it on my own. He pulled my upper body into his lap.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I got you," he reassured.

"Padfoot.. why am I- why does this keep happening," I helplessly asked.

"I don't know, baby. But you're okay now," he comforted.

"Am I?" I replied.

He didn't respond. I couldn't keep it in. The trauma of the situation set in and a wave of fear hit. My tears fell and my chest constricted.

My nails dug into his bicep and I couldn't see through my tears. He pressed his hand between my shoulder blades and held me into his chest. I clawed at the fabric of his shirt and sobbed.