Obviously. Of course. Of course, I knew what to give Sirius even before Christmas was ever mentioned, before we started talking about our holiday plans. I knew well in advance what I'd give him. I had imagined it, drawn it, dreamed it, down to the smallest detail, to the finest engraving. My only fear was that Sirius wouldn't appreciate it as much as I would love giving it to him. Lily had told me that anything coming from me would please Sirius, but I wasn't so sure.
The Great Hall was filled with all the students of Hogwarts, enjoying their final breakfast before the winter holidays. It was far too noisy. Too many laughs, loud conversations, and the metallic clinking of cutlery – but for some reason I couldn't quite place, today, those sounds felt less oppressive. The atmosphere at Hogwarts in winter had always been one of my favourite times: the floating candles, the smell of cinnamon biscuits and gingerbread, the colourful garlands... It was all so comforting to me. James and Peter seemed utterly indifferent to it, absorbed as they were in their chess game – James was going to win. Lily was chatting at the Ravenclaw table, for reasons beyond me. And Sirius, the most recent object of all my thoughts, seemed to be locked in what he deemed a fascinating discussion about Quidditch with the Gryffindor team – though it was far from fascinating to me. I could have felt lonely or excluded, but I didn't. Not even close. Perhaps it was because James kept winking at me whenever he moved his chess pieces, or because Peter was throwing me pleading looks, begging for help. But what made me feel most at ease amidst the chaos was Sirius's reassuring hand resting on my thigh.
The steady, rhythmic motion of his thumb tracing invisible circles on the dark fabric of my uniform, the gentle, contagious warmth of his body so close to mine – it was the kind of morning I enjoyed, despite the background noise.
The ease of our friendship warmed my heart endlessly. The way Peter buttered my toast after every full moon, or how Lily made sure my teacup was never empty, or the softness of James's voice as he read me the book I'd recently started but couldn't hold because of how the pain in my bones left me exhausted. And, above all, Sirius's tender hugs and the constant affection he showered me with.
I hated knowing that for two weeks, he wouldn't be by my side. That I'd have no news from him, that he'd be there. In that place where only the foundations deserved to be called a home. My gaze swept across the Great Hall and inevitably landed on Regulus. So similar yet so different from Sirius. His dark eyes held no spark of life, his expression so closed-off, so cold, so disdainful. He looked every bit a Black. And God only knew how skilled he was at hiding the truth behind such a perfectly haughty facade. I feared that one day, Sirius might turn into that same wall – one that would no longer hear my cries, begging him not to become like that.
Regulus caught my eye and offered a tight smile, which I returned. My gaze wandered again across the hall, drifting from one student to another. But a slight pressure on my thigh drew my attention back to Sirius.
— You're lost in thought again, he said softly, as though it were a secret meant only for us.
But the truth was, if I were lost anywhere at that moment, it was only in his eyes.
— A little, maybe, I murmured.
He smiled at me, his gaze lingering on my lips for a moment before he returned to his conversation.
Fuck.
His hand didn't stop its gentle, imaginary sketches on my thigh, and I found myself praying that one day I'd feel his skin against mine. Dying from such sweet torture didn't seem like a curse at all. I wished this moment could last a little longer, long enough for me to soak in every detail. So that the feelings of contentment and peace I felt in that instant would never leave me.
— We're still on for later, yeah? Sirius asked abruptly, in a whisper.
— Better be, I replied.
He smirked before turning his attention to Peter and James's chess game. His smile didn't fade; it even seemed to grow when he noticed that my attention was solely on him.
Fuck. Fuck.
James lost. Correction: James let Peter win. And Sirius chuckled softly, his eyes fixed on Peter's reaction, but I knew – I knew – he was acutely aware of the way I was watching him. The circles his thumb traced on my thigh grew less steady, more tense, almost shy. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy seeing him a bit flustered under the weight of my admiration.
He was so beautiful it was almost criminal. My devotion to the sharp line of his jaw, to his dark hair – into which my hand often wandered discreetly – was endless. And his eyes... If I were to lose my sight and could only remember one thing, it would be his stormy grey eyes, which, at that moment, were locked on mine.
— For Merlin's sake, get a room, James muttered sarcastically.
To my dismay, Sirius broke eye contact and tossed his fork at James. I chuckled softly as Sirius returned his hand to its rightful place – on my thigh.
I struggled to stand, my aching muscles weighed down by my own body. But that was only a fraction of what made me feel sullen. Losing the comforting weight of Padfoot's hand on me made it all the worse. Still, I tried to focus on something else – the smell of puddings and cinnamon hot chocolates wafting through the Great Hall. I followed our little group, my mind slightly adrift, wondering how I might manage to slip away and steal some time alone with Sirius to give him his Christmas present.
He was sitting across from me, perfectly upright, copying a passage from some book. How was I supposed to concentrate with such a work of art right in front of me? A faint blush coloured his cheeks. One could have blamed it on the chill outside, but we'd been in the library for an hour already. He loved my attention, and I loved giving it to him. More than that, I loved watching the effect it had on him. He was nervous, aware of my eyes tracking his every movement, every micro-expression his face tried to conceal. But I could read him like an open book. He couldn't lie to me.
— You should be studying, he murmured, as though it was a secret meant only for the two of us.
— I've got better things to do right now.
I rested my head on my folded arms atop the old wooden table, gazing at him calmly. The red on his cheeks deepened.
— Something wrong? I asked, making no effort to hide my smirk.
— Nothing.
