Falling // Wolfstar

Twenty Eight

Sirius rests his head in the palm of his hand, mushing around the remains of his soggy cereal. The day is like any other. For the most part. A fresh layer of snow blankets over the grounds nearly two inches tall. The very first thing that crossed James and Sirius' mind was to throw snowballs at Slytherins and maybe even a few professor when they weren't looking. Of course, in the past Remus would scold them and then reluctantly tag along. Sirius takes a spoonful of cereal and swallows away the memory.

Today is just like any other day, he tells himself. How could a day feel more special than another when they all blend into one long, dreadful week that feeds into the terribly horrid, never ending month all combined into one gruesome year. Just to be repeated all over again. Sure he was sixteen yesterday and today he's seventeen. Next year he'll be eighteen. And nineteen there after. It seems ridiculous to celebrate living another year in his mind. Then again, maybe it's the perfect time to celebrate. Merlin knows Regulus should enjoy every second he has ever since -

Sirius is promptly shaken from his thoughts when a large bag is dropped in front of him with a heavy thud. The metal spoon formerly in his hand clanks against the bowl.

"Happy birthday Sirius!" Frances exclaims, wrapping her arms around his shoulders rather forcefully for a girl her size.

"I won't make it to eighteen if you suffocate me," Sirius utters.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Frances releases her hold and giddily takes a seat beside the 7th year. "I really hope you like it." She shoves the bag closer to him eagerly. "I wasn't sure exactly what to get you but then I saw it - and it was like fate!"

Sirius can't help but crack a smile. Normally her energetic rambling annoyed him, but he's willing to let it slide just for today. He grabs the colorful tissue paper, crumbling it into a ball, and throws it at Frances. Just as he's about to pull out the gift, she blurts, "It's a motorcycle helmet!" and immediately slaps both hands over her mouth.

"Gee, I wonder what it could possibly be," Sirius states sarcastically. He pulls out the sleek black helmet with the initials SB engraved in small letters on the side.

"It's for when you finally get your motorcycle. I know you probably think it's lame, helmets and all, but just in case you can never be too-"

Sirius pulls Frances into a back breaking hug - out of appreciation and to shut her up. When they break apart, he ruffles her hair affectionately, smirking when she slaps his hand away irritatedly. "I love it," he says as he carefully places it back into the bag. "You can be my first passenger."

"Really?"

"Only if you promise not to talk the whole time." The bag is placed onto the empty space beside him. As he picks up his goblet, he finally registers Frances' appearance. "New look?"

Frances stops running her hands through her hair and blushes; she flips her hair over her shoulder, letting it fall freely in its natural curly state. "Just trying something new." Sirius narrows his eyes skeptically, but doesn't press on the matter. "So do you have any big birthday plans? I mean, you're officially of age! Are you learning to apparate?"

At that precise moment, the Marauders - even Remus - parade through the doors of the Great Hall. Though there aren't many people, they command the room's attention just by their presence. James wears a crown of fashionable red and gold jewels, Peter is throwing confetti like there's no tomorrow, and Remus has been roped into wearing a sash across his chest reading: BIRTHDAY BOY.

Peter is running down the aisles tossing the red confetti onto anything he possibly can. It looks as if Godric Gryffindor blew up into a million sparkles. He makes his way past the Ravenclaws when his foot catches onto the leg of the bench. Confetti is thrown in a completely arbitrary way as he takes to the floor; his arms flail around, trying to catch himself when he unintentionally drags Davy down with him. The pair land in a heap on the floor in a jumble of limbs and disgusting liquid.