give her love » james potter

40

Uncle Winston decided to take James and Sirius fishing. He had to convince me because I initially refused, trying to help them out because when it's the third hour and he's frustrated after not a single bite he just starts getting very mad at everything. But, then he looked at me with such a defeated look, and I understood.

He and dad always went fishing. They'd wake up at the crack of dawn and pack breakfast and lunch and just spend hours in the boat or pier, hoping to catch something. Most of the time they weren't very lucky because they were terrible at fishing, but, they were best friends and this was what they'd always done. So they'd come home smiling with an empty bucket and some left over neon worms.

I wave them goodbye at six in the morning, then go back inside tired from staying up late last night. Siobhan's leaving soon because she doesn't want to leave Maggie alone for too long but doesn't want to bring her here either. So, she's awake and toasting a bagel.

Aunt Sally and I had went into town a few days ago, and we'd both splurged on some new cassettes. I open the drawer where we'd organized them for easy access, my hand immediately moves to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. I'm not a big Elton John person but there's a few songs on this album that are an exception. I put into the player and skip forward until I find it.

"Hey, kids, shake it loose together . . ."

Siobhan grins, "This is my favourite album from 1973."

"You have favourite albums for different years," I ask, looking down at the yellow case with a drawing of Elton. 

"Of course, you probably do too but just don't know it."

I wrack my brain, trying to think of 1973 but nothing comes up. That year has been totally removed from my brain because it was the first year without Eli and I just went through the five stages of grief again and again. 

"What was your favourite album from last year," she asks, as she takes a bite of  her bagel.

1977 was a good year for music, so it takes me a few moments. Pink Floyd, The Ramones, The Sex Pistols . . . "Rumours," I finally say. "Mainly due to You Can Go Your Own Way."

She tilts her head. "You seem like a Dreams kind of person."

"I like that one, it's probably my second favourite," I say, sitting down on a stool. "What was your favourite album?"

"The Stranger by Billy Joel, I loved Vienna  . . ."

There's no such thing as having bad taste in music.

Music is made to be enjoyed and there's nothing that says enjoying pop music is worse than liking some underground indie band. It's so fucking pretentious when people gain superiority complexes about the artists they listen to. Radio music is popular and it's fun to listen to, if you have a playlist filled strictly with what you hear on the radio, then good for you because it's what you enjoy. 

Life's too short to listen to music you don't like and to pretend you think the Beatles are overrated.

Sirius listens strictly to a mix of metal and rock, booing whenever I put on Dolly Parton, Loretta Lynn, or my favourite country song ever, Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet. But, I see his head bop along when Jimmy sings, "Wastin' away again in Margaritaville. Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt . . ."

The clock strikes eight and Siobhan starts to put her plate away, "I've gotta head home," she says, "thanks for inviting me, it was nice to see you after such long time."

I grin. "It hasn't even been a week since we left Hogwarts."

There's this flash of hesitation before she opens her mouth, but then she just shrugs, "It's just sometimes, you and Rachel are just always in this little word." Her mouth twists into something between a line and frown, then she gives me that smile that says it's not your fault. "It almost feels like I'm almost just a tag along," she admits. "You've known each other for much longer so it's understandable, that you guys would be much closer. It's not your fault, though. It's just how it is."