"you have me. until the very last star in the galaxy dies, you have me."
With a war on the rise, 8 friends must try to understand their importance in a world that is slowly crumbling around them. Darkness appears out of every place in their lives...
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"nothing gold can stay"
A week later, Cleo was cleaning the house to prepare for Lily and Harry to come home. The Potters had accepted that everybody just decided to move in, letting their friends take the 3 extra rooms that they had. Cleo stayed upstairs across the hall from James and Lily, and Remus and Sirius had the two rooms downstairs. Peter went to stay with his family, but he came around every couple of days.
"You know you're a witch, right?" Sirius said, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Cleo grind with the dishes in the sink, her arms elbow deep in soapy water.
"They don't get as clean as they should when I use magic on them," she muttered without turning around. She told Lily that the house would be spotless when they arrived this evening, and she meant it.
Sirius walked across the kitchen to where she had her back to him. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his forehead in the crook of her neck as his lips grazed the exposed skin on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and stopped scrubbing, letting herself lean into him. He breathed in her scent, the smell of her jasmine perfume that he always loved. He closed his eyes as the scent flooded him with memories of late nights around the Gryffindor common room fireplace, or in potions class, or when he kissed her in the hallway the night they fought.
"I missed you," he mumbled, his voice soft and his breath causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin.
"I missed you too," she whispered. He lifted his head and kissed her hair, squeezing her body closer gently.
"We haven't really talked about it all, did you want to?" he asked her. He didn't want to push her to say anything but it was killing him that no one knows where she went for 6 months. She thought for a moment, staring out the window above the sink, before she swallowed harshly and nodded. His arms loosened and she turned around to face him. She leaned against the sink and his arms dropped, but he stayed right in front of her. She knew now was as good a time as ever to ask him the question that had been stuck on her mind since she left.
"Can I ask you something?" she said, her blue eyes looking up at him through her dark lashes. He was standing close enough that he felt he could count every freckle that splattered across the bridge of her nose, and noticed the frizziness of her curly dark hair from working so hard all morning.
"Of course," he replied with a nod. She took a deep breath and chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, and he wanted to tell her to stop but he loved the way she looked when doing it too much.
"On the bridge, before the battle," she started, looking down at her hands, "did you mean what you said?" She didn't have to remind him of what exactly it was, because he knew. He remembered the way her cheeks flushed despite the rain and the cold, how she looked at him but couldn't say anything to reply before they were sucked into the fight. It was six months ago, but he knew exactly what she was talking about.
