Mischief Managed

39: Dreams at Our Fingertips

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't get you out of there. It's up to you now. I'm not going to stop living my life, and I'm sorry if that's selfish, I'm sorry if I'm being cruel, but I don't know if I can keep an undying loyalty if it means a sacrifice that is worse than death- living without a future.
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The next night, Sirius and I were eating dinner. Homemade pasta. Well, homemade from a can. The best I could do.

I'd piled the spaghetti into two separate bowls, and Sirius was eating his slowly, twirling his fork pensively around the noodles.

His eyebrows were raised, and a half-oval crease formed in the center of his forehead. The apartment was dark, lit only by the lights on the Thames and the flickering beige candle on the table between us.

The light made his face look softer, and his skin glowed. His eyes were cast towards the table. He was so beautiful it hurt.

A warmth spread throughout my body and it felt like my heart was pouring from my eyes. Despite the killings, despite the war, despite our risk, there was still this moment. Still us.

I began to smile, my heart filling with more and more love every second I looked at him.

His eyes dashed up. When he caught me staring, he grinned.

My eyes felt wet. His smile still took my breath away, even after ten years.

"Did I transform or are you just staring?" Sirius joked.

More tears fell. "Just staring," I whispered.

His smile faltered when he saw me cry. He set down his fork with a clatter.

"Are you- are you alright?" He started to rise from his chair, but I extended my arm, shaking my head.

"I'm fine," I said. "I just love you so much."

He grinned again. "I love you, too. In fact, I'm rather certain I love you even more."

"Oh?"

He inclined his head and leaned cockily back in his chair. "Quite certain."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then you are quite mistaken. I'm afraid I love you most."

"Ah," Sirius said, lifting a finger. "But you've forgotten that I told you I loved you first- way back in sixth year. And I've been the anchor, the powerhouse of our relationship."

Spit dribbled from my mouth, I laughed so hard. "You? The 'powerhouse'? How does one reach such a far-fetched conclusion?"

Sirius rose gracefully from his chair, and offered me his hand.

"Like this," he said, lowering himself in a formal bow.

"What are you supposed to be doing?" I asked, snorting.

His face still angled towards the tile, he answered me, his voice muffled. "I'm asking my fair lady to dance."

I rolled my eyes but decided to play along.

"Very well," I replied and rose, spreading my maroon-hued sweater like a frilly ballgown.

Sirius straightened and led me to an open patch of floor in our living room, in front of the tall windows facing the Thames. He raised our connected hands above his head, and spun me to his chest.

I smiled up at him. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He put his hands on my waist, hugging me closer to him.

The city lights sparkled at the edge of my vision, but Sirius's glow overtook any competition for my attention. I leaned against him. His hand moved up my back, and I was comforted by the love so evident in the way he held me.