wonderland • wolfstar

27| don't be a pussy!

Now, listen. When Sirius said it took him twenty minutes to choose a pair of shoes he was not prepared to have it actually happen.

But here he was, sitting on his bed facing three pairs of shoes (that he had narrowed down from eight) and having his hair brushed by Peter as snippets of Professor Harley's apology swam in his head.

She said sorry.

She said it was none of her business.

She was ashamed of what she had said and she wished for him to be happy and content.

It still didn't make sense to him how she could say something and realise her mistake so soon and still have the courage to amend it immediately.

Most people never reached the last step.

"Your hair is so soft, Sirius. I wish mine was like that," Peter sighed lovingly, running his fingers through Sirius' hair.

"Just use his shampoo, Wormy - that's what I do anyway." James advised simply. He didn't even flinch when Sirius whipped his head back, madness burning in his eyes.

"You what?"

"Come on, you can't blame me, can you?"

"Shut the fuck-"

"Er, you've been looking like you need help with your shoes for a while now, Padfoot? Do you?" Peter rushed, desperate for no sappy make-up after they argue for two seconds and feel like it proved the strength of their friendship.

"I do, actually. I'm in a heel mood," groaned Sirius disappointedly, dragging his attention away from James with one last stinging glare, as he fell off of the bed away from Peter and his hairbrush.

James sat up from his bed, placing his newspaper down carefully and peering over his glasses.

"Why is that such a bad thing?"

Shrugging, Sirius tried to voice his thoughts in a coherent manner.

"It's gayyyyyy," he mocked in a high pitched tone.

He crossed his arms over his abdomen adamantly and fiercely squinted at the shoes. They sat politely in a straight line and tucked in to the extra storage room, where random articles of clothing and missing homework would stay.

There were his black combat boots, the soles of them so thick and heavy that crushing the heads of his enemies would be no problem at all with them. Then there were his usual black sneakers, tattered and worn out, but still wearable and quite aesthetic, if Sirius said so himself. He felt carefree in them, like his simple shoes were the intricate reflection of his inner self. But maybe that was stupid - he wasn't even sure.

And then, after these two quite usual pairs, came the results from that shopping trip where he merely said fuck it.

Ah yes, his first and probably last pair of heels. They weren't really proper stilts, but they were ankle boots with moderately sized heels and God, Sirius may have only worn them three times, but they were fucking fantastic. For starters, they gave him extra height which was always appreciated by him, but secondly, they also gave him that extra bit of confidence. He felt invincible in them and he was entirely aware that he could walk better than even Marlene in them, so that of course was a plus in his book.

But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows when he chose to wear them. Everyone just assumed that the heels made him so 'feminine', like it just proved his submissiveness. Every time anyone made even the slightest remark to his shoes, he did nothing more than roll his eyes. Since when did shoes have genders, for heaven's sake?