Author's Notes: Kinda SappyTitle. I apologise.
This is just a little fic I wrote while I was bored in a lesson. I had a weird urge to write Sirius/James.
This is slash of the Sirius/James variety
I don’t own HP, JKR is the goddess. I’m not making money out of this, in fact I’m loosing it. Well, I would be if I paid the Internet bill. LOL.
A Silver Tear Amongst the Raindrops
The world was fading into nothing but pain. Pain and regret. The rain thundered down, soaking into the soil of the wrecked garden, hammering into the petals of the crushed lilies. It tapped onto the smashed glass that littered the ground and collected in the broken crockery. James lay on his back in the rubble as everything went hazy and disappeared. He could hear Harry crying in his cot, and he knew that Lily was dead. She must be; she would never’ve let Harry cry for this long.
Harry’s weak cries were the only thing that broke the silence, apart from the hissing of the rain. The weak cries of a motherless baby. Until the roar of a motorbike rent the cloudy skies like a flash of lightening, and screeched to a halt a few metres away.
"James?! Lily?!" an anguished voice cried. "Prongs? C’mon, answer me!" James could hear the person scrabbling in the rubble, sobbing bitterly.
"Here…" he managed to call, although it was more like a whisper.
A pale face surrounded by a cloud of dark, silky hair swam into view. Storm coloured eyes swimming with tears bored into his own hazel ones, warming his cold soul slightly. He was so cold…
"Jamie? What did he do to you? That treacherous rat! If only I’d suspected sooner!" Sirius raged, cursing his own stupidity with a few choice words.
"Sirius… not your fault, mate. We… should’ve trusted Mooney." James managed to gasp. Talking hurt, but there was so much more he needed to say, however hard it was.
"Damn right we should’ve trusted Remus. We shouldn’t have listened to those idiots who said werewolves couldn’t be trusted."
"What is it, James?"
"I need to… tell you…"
"Tell me, come on, before its too late for either of us," Sirius attempted to tease, but his face was devoid of colour, his eyes deep dark pools of sorrow.
"I’m so sorry…"
"What? I can’t hear you, mate. I thought you just said to kiss you."
"Padfoot…" James gathered himself for another effort. He was determined to tell Sirius, however hard it was. "Kiss me. I’ve always loved you, ever since… fifth year. I was scared, even though I knew… you were gay. I’m sorry I didn’t… didn’t say sooner. Now kiss me… before they come for you."
With a startled gasp, Sirius searched his best friend’s hazel eyes. The spark was fading fast, and he knew time was limited. Still he looked, trying to discern what his friend was trying to tell him without words.
Apparently satisfied with what he found, he leaned forward and covered James’ cold lips with his own smooth, warm ones.
The kiss was brief, as James was too weak and Sirius too close to breaking down and sobbing. He cupped the dying man’s cheek with a trembling hand, and whispered "I love you."
"Love you too…" James said, before closing his eyes for the last time. "Look after Harry."
"I will love, I promise," Sirius whispered. James smiled happily and sighed, rubbing up against Sirius’ warm hand for a moment, before relaxing and giving in to the inevitable.
A single sliver tear ran down Sirius’ cheek, mingling with the raindrops. His face a mask of grief, he went over to the cot and picked up Harry. Cradling the babe in his arms, he soothed him, and the wailing stopped. There was something odd on the infant’s forehead. Sirius brushed aside a tuft of black hair and gasped. It was a cut in the shape of a lightening bolt. As he wondered over this, stroking Harry’s back soothingly, the unmistakable silhouette of Hagrid appeared, picking his way through the ruins.
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