/𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒\ [𝒔. 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌]

𝟔.𝟚.𝟣

"power doesn't have to show off. power is confident, self-assuring, self-starting and self-stopping, self-warming and self-justifying. when you have it, you know it."~ Ralph Ellison

~august 1976~

The first of August was a golden day. Artemis stood outside of the Potter's house as Lily's parents drove off in their muggle car and she stared out at the long field stretching out behind the property. She didn't want to go inside just yet. The day was too perfect. That whole summer had just been too perfect. She set her bags and Athena's cage down on the driveway, slipped her shoes off, and stepped onto the soft grass, wandering further and further down the hill until she was bathed head to toe in sunlight. She closed her eyes and stretched her arms wide, letting the warmth flood over her, making her skin tingle and her chest giddy with happiness. She closed her eyes and spun in a slow circle. She felt good. How long had it been since she'd been able to say that? The beach had done her well, she had a tan and a lingering look of serenity in her eyes, closed against the sun rays.

She was spinning, spinning, the world moving in circles, and then- "Ah!" she shrieked as a pair of strong arms caught her around the waist and picked her up, swinging her around as Sirius's laugh echoed across the field. "Sirius!" she cried, unable to keep herself from laughing too.

He set her down and she spun to face him, nearly knocking him off his feet in a hug before he could say anything. "Easy there," he laughed, holding onto her tightly. "I missed you too, Blake." She let go of him and took a step back. Sirius felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. He'd thought about Artemis a lot in the last month; about the year they'd had without speaking to one another, about the night they'd shared at the top of the astronomy tower when he'd finally been confident in the fact that they were friends. But now, seeing her in-person was different. Her skin was golden tan and her hair had lightened from the sunlight and streamed in heavenly waves over her bare shoulders. Standing there in shorts and an old tank-top, sunglasses perched haphazardly atop her head and not a trace of makeup, she was angelic, bewitching even.

"Good, I was worried you two would forget about me all month," she said, not breaking eye contact.

He snorted. "Forget you? With the number of letters you wrote us?"

"And you only wrote half as many back!" she scolded.

Sirius threw an arm around her shoulders as the two walked back up towards the house. "When were you planning on telling us you got here?" he argued back, but nothing could wipe the stupid grin still playing on his lips.

Artemis laughed him off, a light, sort of raspy laugh that wasn't just contagious, it was infectious. It was like a disease that caught Sirius off guard and made his heart spin around in circles like Artemis had been in the field. It was agony, feeling like this. Agony mixed with the most perfect bliss in the world. But he didn't love her. Not in that way. She wouldn't want him to, anyhow. She was too independent for that, and she'd never had an actual relationship. Sirius knew how she treated her significant others. He knew he wouldn't be any different. He'd be something new and shiny for a week; two if he was lucky, and then she'd toss him away like a draft to a paper she didn't care for anymore.