The Colour of the Night

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THE COLOUR OF THE NIGHT
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People say that the events in our life change us, the choices we make now decide the people that we will become later. If this is the case then Sirius Black should be a broken individual, a person who has no concept of right or wrong anymore, a man driven by guilt and depression and the unconquerable need for revenge.

Not so.

Sirius Black is a man prone to irrational behaviour, yes, however he, like many before him, has learned to put the past exactly where it belongs; in the past. Sirius Black is, as he always was, a man of deep feeling and loyalty, passion and pain. Sirius Black was a man wronged who has vowed to do right but above all Sirius Black is one of life’s little miracles, cheating death again and again.

After all, when your fighting on the side of the angels lady luck has to cut you some slack …

Prologue


“Something bothering you?”

The night sky was a myriad of streaks, from the deepest purple to the darkest black. Midnight blue provided a backdrop for millions of beautiful twinkling stars shining, radiating and glistening like diamond teardrops in an ocean of dreams. The few wisps of cloud that remained were a stark grey against the glorious backdrop, clinging onto the edges of a glowing yellow moon as if existence would end should they let go. A gentle breeze accompanied the shades of midnight whipping raven black hair, like the finest silk, around Sirius’s eyes blinding him protectively from a night that allowed for no secrets, a night that seemed to reach into the bottom of a mans soul and seduce. The brilliant crystal blue eyes, like a frozen lake touched with frost yet filled with the warmth of a thousand dreams shining alive and bright, closed. It would have been easier to go inside and stare at four walls than to face a night such as this. It would have been infinitely simpler for him to close his mind and forget, locking up a broken soul and shielding it protectively from everything around him.

The stars be damned then, because he wouldn’t hide.

“Sirius?” again that voice on the breeze, a voice like gentle golden honey dripping on fine white sand. A husky voice, whiskey and cigarettes skipping in the wind. The voice belonged to Remus Lupin. But then again, Sirius chided himself, to whom else could such a soulful, gentle voice belong. He turned gently, never unfolding his crossed, black clad legs, to look at one of the most beautiful men that he’d ever seen.

Remus was standing not a long way off, the roof terrace not allowing that much room, one hand on the doorframe and the other hanging by his side. Tawny, fine shoulder length locks whipped around his cheeks so that he brought that hand to his face, pushing them back from bright amber eyes. Eyes that, much like Sirius’ own, had seen too much. Those ochre orbs were speckled with tiny flecks of brown, giving his eyes a look similar to that of the most ferocious and striking of wolves. Right now traces of worry lightly creased a smooth, golden skinned forehead and brought two thin, tawny eyebrows to meet at the bridge of a nose worthy of the most divine of aristocrats. A thinly muscled body gave way to slender hips and sleek, toned thighs.

A thin cream jumper clung to his body, the wool caressing the soft skin. The rolled up high neck did nothing to shield ast tst the chill in the air. Beautiful the night may be but it was also harsh and unforgiving, especially against the worn and faded blue jeans that clung to those toned legs giving way to white socks with holes in the toes. He had surprisingly cute toes.

“I’m fine, Remus. I’ve just been …”

“Brooding?” Remus moved out to sit beside Sirius on the cold ledge, “It’s not like you Sirius. What’s troubling you?” unafraid, deft fingertips brushed away strands of coal black hair clinging to Sirius lightly stubbled jaw line.

“I …” startling blue eyes opened a little wider to look at the man, if someone who has been a werewolf for more than sixteen years can truly still be called a man, opened wider as if realising something for the first time, “You are so beautiful, Remus,” the werewolf’s cheek’s turned a slight shade of pink, adding to the harsh red marks left there by the wind.

“Siri’, speak to me. Tell me what’s the matter?” those fingers stroking his cheek again. Those fingers belonged to the hands of a piano player or an artist and yet they were still there, on the ends of Remus Lupin’s hands and dancing across Sirius’ face with a boldness all of their own.

Sirius sank not only into the touch of those hands but into the arms they were attached to. Deceptively slim arms, strong and determined yet gentle and oh so sweet nevertheless, encircled him and held him. Shielded him from the night.

It had been almost three months now since the near-miss in the Department of Mysteries. Bellatrix Lestrange was once again rotting in a cell in Azkaban, this time near death thanks to a sudden, nasty spell from the end of Remus Lupin’s wand. Three months and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was it. His last chance at making things work properly.

He remembered that jet of red light and the burning, searing pain in his chest. If Remus had have been two seconds later and her aim had have been perfect then Sirius would be dead now, would have toppled down and through the veil to whatever lay on the other side. As he’d lain on the floor, eyes blurring and brain refusing all attempts at making his limbs function, he’d been seized by a terror. Not a fear of death or of moving on from thorldorld but a fear of not having had time to finish what he had come so close to starting again;

His life.

Now, he was cleared of all charges, he was a free man. Free to live, to love, whoever he wanted. Free to be able to be the godfather that James had chosen him to be. Free to look after his family. Free to cherish Remus the way he was supposed to be. And yet … something nagged at him and stopped him from moving on. An annoying voice nipping at the back of his head and pointing out that time was slipping away from him and he didn’t have a clue what to do with it.

Bugger it all.

“What did you say?” Remus asked, head resting on Sirius firm shoulder. Hmm, he must have said that out loud.

“I said bugger it. I think,” he stroked that sleek back, so capable of twisting and adapting. Like a cat. Feline. He chuckled.

“That’s what I though you said,” amused eyed pulled back to meet his own, “What are you laughing at?” more chuckles.

“Nothing. Just the image of you as a big, silky cat,” Remus’ eyebrows made it all the way into his hairline and got lost.

“You are an odd one, Sirius Black,” in in a quick brush of lips Sirius silenced him and he was rewarded with a started look. He so loved that look. He chuckled again, “And a cheeky one,” Remus added, coming out of his trance.

“But you love me,” Sirius teased, leaning back on his elbows to expose his black t-shirt clad torso to the night air. Gods he was freezing. The strange thing was that he didn’t really care all that much.

“That’s entirely besides the point,” Remus smiled. That smile melted Sirius like butter on a hot knife. He found that he enjoyed that sensation. Revelled in it even.

“Is it?” two long black jean clad legs stretched out in front of him as he let himself lay back on the cold stone, silky hair splaying out around him.

“Stop playing with me,” Remus pouted and Sirius’ heart skipped a beat. It took less than ten seconds for the werewolf to turn serious again, sweeping the sensation away, “Your avoiding the question. You always were rather good at that,” there was ur iur in the concerned voice.

It was right about then that Sirius noticed how Remus hair framed his face like a shining halo against the colour of the night. He looked like an angel, a gentle beautiful, exquisite angel and Sirius felt suddenly clumsy in his presence. With those thoughts all hope of a coherent reply was chased away, replaced with a look of reverence that seemed to make Remus uncomfortable.

“What?” a little embarrassment in that thick, butterscotch voice.

“Just thinking on what I said earlier,” a questioning look.

“What part?”

“The part when I told you that you were beautiful,” another blush that should have been treasured, however it was ruined with the arms that came up and hugged that slender body, shivers wracking Remus’ frame. Sirius lifted his hips and pulled out the black cloak that he had been sitting on, wrapping it around Remus’ shoulders aided by warming hands pulling him close again. Sirius’ arse had gone suddenly numb with cold itself.

“Sirius I want to know what’s wrong. You’ve been like this all night, there’s a party downstairs in your honour, to celebrate your acquittal and you haven’t so much as danced or held a conversation with anyone. It’s just not like you, I’m worried,” Remus unconsciously bit his bottom lip, a habit he had had since childhood. Neither Sirius nor James had bothered to point it out, it didn’t seem worth wasting the innocence that flashed across the werewolf’s face when he did it.

“I’m just not in the mood for a party,” Sirius shrugged lightly, muscles rippling with the gesture, “I didn’t want to wreck Harry’s good mood so I came up here,” Remus moved closer to him and pressed his body against Sirius’ chest.

“But it’s not just tonight. You’ve been like this for a while, what’s on your mind?” Remus tucked his head under Sirius’ chin, the silky, unruly locks tickling his neck, “I need to know if your all right,” there was a tired note of pleading in that voice. It tugged at Sirius’ heartstrings.

“I’m just … I’ve just realised that I’ve wasted so much time what with Azkaban and going into hiding, I don’t want to waste anymore but I don’t know what I want to do with my life. Right now I don’t have a choice, the wars coming but afterwards I don’t have a clue what I want to do,” he nuzzled into the top of Remus’ head, “Only that I don’t want to loose you again.”

Remus’ heame ame up and those shining, otherworldly eyes grasped Sirius’ heart and caressed it gently, “We’re never going to loose each other. Sirius, we’ll get a place together, just us with a room for Harry and we’ll work out what you want to do. Just … don’t waste time worrying about it. Our friendship and Harry … that’s all that matters in the scheme of things,” a teary smile, “That’s all that’s ever mattered, isn’t it?”

Sirius nodded, “I guess it is,” a wry smile, “Why do you put everything so well? Why does everything make sense now?” Remus laughed slowly. It was like melting in thick, rich chocolate.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just special,” a shiver, “Right, inside before certain part’s freeze off,” Remus’ pulled him up and tugged him inside. It took all of three seconds for Remus to toss Sirius on the bed and to bury himself under the covers. Nothing but his eyes and the top of his head peaked out as he stripped and then slid under the thick quilt completely. Sirius heard a few muffled sounds and then the bed got wonderfully warm underneath him.

Remus’ sli slipped out from under the white duvet and tossed his wand out of to the side. He didn’t come up for air. Sirius assumed that was an invitation and stripped off himself, climbing into bed and sliding under the covers. He hadn’t slept properly in days and, though it hadn’t shown, he was silently exhausted. Half of him worrying about what to do with his life was probably down to the fact that he hadn’t had any form of rest since his trial and was finding it difficult to put things into perspective. Talking to Remus helped, even if the conversation had been short. Laying back against the covers, arms crossed behind his head, Sirius dozed lightly, eyes have lidded and watching the darkening colours of the night sky around the house. Beautiful, unforgiving. Harsh, yet indescribably exquisite. Just like Remus.

He’d had an urge to scoop the werewolf up and show that body the love it deserved ever since his return from Azkaban. It was no secret that he was fiercely protective of his friends. Yet Remus had always seemed like more than a friend and an unspoken vow between them had kept them permanently by each others side. Circumstances had conspired to keep them apart of late but Remus was never far from Sirius’ mind.

Since childhood Remus had been a rock to Sirius, someone to cling to when times were hard and life was at it’s lowest. Gods how he loved the werewolf. The feelings had subtly changed over the years, shifting from the strongest of friendships to something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Remus was the only person he had left in the world, in a sense, and Sirius was determined not to let him go. Speaking of which, he slipped under the covers so that his face was level with his friends. A smile spread over his face.

Remus was fast asleep, breathing very softly, his sweet breath touching Sirius’ nose. He chuckled and then, with tenderness stored up from years of never being touched, he pulled Remus to the top of the covers and tucked him in, twining his fingers around his best friends’.

“I love you, Remus Lupin,” he whispered and then grinned at the odd position Remus curled himself into, “Don’t let the doxy’s bite.”

* * *

“I’m stuffed, I thought I was going to be sick for a while there. Great party huh, Harry?”

Ron Weasley’s voice reached Harry in the darkness but it washed over him like air. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, had other things on his mind. For instance, tonight he had been given four pictures of his parents by Mad-Eye Moody and an old robe that his father had worn in school from Professor Dumbledore. Odd sixteenth birthday presents to be sure but much appreciated ones none the less. Then there was the fact that this was the first time he had seen daylight in almost four weeks. The Dursley’s seemed to have something against him seeing sunlight.

On top of all of this there was the fact that he was legally allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. He was also, legally, allowed to leave Hogwarts. Not that he would ever contemplate doing so but the option was, nevertheless, there if he wanted it. Today had been one of the hardest of his life. He’d joined the Order of the Phoenix. He’d dedicated his life, for as long as the Order and Dumbledore needed him, to fighting and defeating Voldemort. Yes, the Dark Lord was … his responsibility and that, alone, weighed heavily against his heart.

“It would have been better if Sirius had have stayed,” Harry mumbled into the night air. Ron rolled over and looked at him, peering through the darkness. They had been given the bed Fred and George had shared on their last stay, a double rather than the bunk beds from last year. It was much more comfortable and the shared body heat warmed the bed considerably.

“He looked a bit off, I guess, but what d’you expect? He’s just been cleared of murder, I’d be a bit off too,” Harry nodded, acknowledging Ron’s point. Fair enough, it still would have been nice to get five minutes with him before he’s gone off one his own.

Sirius bee been like a recluse in the last few months and it was beginning to worry Harry. He’d almost lost Sirius once and he wasn’t prepared to do it again. The circumstances were different, he’d agree with that, but Sirius was pulling inevitably away from him and Harry was afraid. He’d been alone before, it wasn’t something that he wanted to go through again. Selfish as it may have sounded considering what Sirius had been through, Harry was angry at him for not giving his godson the opportunity to come to him with some of his worst concerns.

Harry was … petrified … of the mere though of another confrontation with Voldemort never mind having to kill the Dark Lord by himself. He was afraid that he’d never have a chance to grow up. He was afraid that he’d never have the chance to fall in love. He was afraid that he’d never have the chance to make love for the first time and to feel his partner love him back, not because he was The-Boy-Who-Lived but because he was Harry Potter and he was a nice guy.

Harry shook his head, he didn’t want to think about everything going pear shaped on him. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with his best friend for once in his life. “I think McGonagall was a bit drunk,” Harry said, succeeding in changing the subject and managing to amuse himself. He grinned at the memory.

Ron laughed, “Better drunk than talking about what we want to do when we leave school, though. God, I thought she’d never shut up,” Harry turned to face Ron, a scowl having taken over the grin.

“I know. What do you want to do though?” Ron shrugged, tomato-red hair flopping into his eyes. A freckled hand pushed it back.

“Dunno. Get a flat with you. That’s about it,” Harry let his surprise show. He would have though a place on his own would have suited Ron better after sharing a house with his brother and sisters for so long. Harry had certainly been planning on getting a little flat in London somewhere Sirius’ new place and having the parties of his life. It was, however, a pleasant surprise.

“I’d love to get a flat with youarryarry stared at the wall behind Ron, picturing the bliss of being free from Voldemort and any ties … being with his best friend in the whole world and enjoying every day as it came, “But what about Hermione?”

“Hermione would hate living with us,” Ron spluttered, “She’d be picking up behind us all the time and snapping about the noise! She’d probably be in Azkaban for murder by the time she’d lived with us for a month,” Harry laughed warmly. The thoughts of the times that the three of them could have floated around his mind until Ron interrupted them by yawning loudly. Harry mirrored the gesture about two minutes later and they both laughed, allowing the exhaustion to show through.

“Put the light out,” Harry mumbled, turning onto his back and masking his eyes with his forearm. A few seconds later the room dimmed and Harry removed his arm. He would try to sleep and ignore all thoughts of Dark Lord’s and final battles for now. If he could have spoken to Sirius, Harry thought nastily, he might sleep better. Then those venomous thoughts were banished when Ron slipped over closer and settled himself at Harry’s side, sliding an arm across his stomach.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Ron murmured into the darkness.

Harry shook his head and wrapped his arm around Ron’s back, “’Course not,” in fact he was more grateful of the gesture than Ron could know, “We can do this all the time in out flat,” then they both giggled.

mom moments later the two boys were asleep, fatigue from the party and, sadly enough, from life in general, washing over them. The last thought that ran through Harry’s mind was that this might be his last cuddle, any day could be his last and so … he was going to take advantage of Ron and his comfort and anyone else who felt like doling it out, for that matter. The Gods only knew … he needed it.