Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XLVII

What does it mean to have someone you love stripped from your life? To have them no longer be around and leave you entirely alone? To no longer have the option to talk to them, see them, spend time with them? You may find yourself wondering why it had to be them or why it was you who had to suffer through this. But, truthfully, the most destructive way to go about these things is to look further into what may have led up to this and what could have been different. You can't change the inevitable, and there's no point in trying to fend it off.

Knowing that things always come to an end makes those unique moments even more meaningful and prominent. It makes the mundane things something of dreams and those small moments of solace, the ones you one day dream of. The inconsequential becomes paramount, and the ease becomes a drug you miss tasting. Hurt makes life worth living because it reminds you of what is significant and what doesn't demand your vitality.

You have zero control over the future and no power over the choices other people make with their lives. People will always fight against authority and stand for what is important to them. Selfishness is an intrinsic trait in humans; it's what that vain leads to that tell what kind of person someone is.

Selfishness is the covetous younger sister who just wants someone to understand what she's attempting to do and that even the most complacent efforts may be for the greater good of the others. Selflessness is the older brother whose vain gets misinterpreted for valour, while the greedy companions are seen as something only to save their own skin. Both go hand in hand, and there are very few contrasts between the two. There's no shame in wanting to keep your life steady, wanting to keep your own skin safe. But there's also no shame in understanding that being a hero is nothing more than a last grab at justifying a saviour complex.

It doesn't make winning the war easier to digest, knowing which battles were lost.

—

Lyra had never felt warmth like she did when James ripped her into a hug, embracing her so tightly that she was confident her rib cracked. It was a hug that Lyra had dreamed about during the weeks she and Sirius were camped out, one that she knew would be why she got up in the mornings until the end of time. She had to; she had her brother to be around for. Lyra had to be in the world so James could depend on her and never discover himself glancing at an empty picture frame or tidying up a deserted room.

The words he whispered were some that seemed to remedy the poisoned crevices that fractured Lyra's heart, constructed by Narcissa Malfoy in front of that dreaded manor. They were ones of secrecy and solace, reminding her that she wouldn't have to walk that formidable road alone. It reminded her of what pushed her to climb that rope and why it was she broke through that hatch in the ceiling, winding up back in the land of the living.

But he also noticed she had changed, that something wasn't entirely right about the sister that he eventually pulled back from. She was startled at the way he looked down at her, as though he could see the way a part of her had died and the way it ate at her and eroded her mind. His warm hands grew cold as he stared at her, the frigid energy of hers rolling from her body and choking his veins until they quivered. James took a step backwards, and Lyra knew she wouldn't be able to run from that conversation.

Everyone was in near tears after the welcome-back hugs were concluded, all except James. He just stared at Lyra, pouring into her like a scientist observing a creature. It felt invasive like he was seeing something that she wasn't entirely aware of. When the younger of the two broke away from the group, her slightly older counterpart wasn't too far behind. She tried to outmaneuver him by whirling around corners and running up the stairs, but James was the captain of the Quidditch team, and he had a one-up on the girl in the fitness department.