One Step Ahead part I | Sirius Black

Chapter 119

{Another one because I can't help myself. Sorry if there are editing issues. I'm just too lazy}}

Two days.

For two days Sirius had been spinning his ring, desperate for Gwen to respond. He'd spiraled into a panic that was nearly impossible to break. In his mind, she was dead. Cold. Somewhere lost. He'd barely been present Christmas Eve, instead locking himself in his and James' room.

Christmas morning was much the same. He'd been quiet, sullen. On the brink of grieving. James and Regulus had tried to talk to him, Mia as well. Finally Fleamont pulled him aside and tried to get Sirius to say something. Anything. He merely said he was tired. Though the gift from Gwenyth that he refused to open said otherwise.

He sits quietly on his bed while James and Regulus play yet another match of chess. Sirius contemplates lashing out, saying something to hurt his friend or his brother. It doesn't happen, words fail him.

Instead his eyes slowly slide to the untouched present beside him. Midnight blue wrapping paper. Blue. His heart twists in his chest and he wonders if the Veela misses him. If she's even well enough or alive to miss him.

And the longer that went by without feeling the gold ring on his finger grow warm, the more he began to lose hope. To grow angry with himself. The last words he'd said to her were false. He knew that she loved him. He knew it, even though she insisted on leaving. And regret makes him feel ill, because he should've held her. Kissed her. Told her to be safe, and that he would be waiting for her.

Now, he had no idea what to expect. All he knows is that if she's dead, if she's hurt, it will destroy him. He twists the ring again.

Nothing.

He hadn't realize how attached he was, how badly he needed her until now. Being without her, not knowing if she was okay, left him on the brink of a panicking breakdown. He couldn't breath properly without her near. He couldn't think. He longs for her desperately, in any capacity. If she would just spin the bloody ring on her finger he would feel better.

Cursing himself, his hands finally reach for the present taunting him with the faint smell of jasmine. If nothing else, he could have this. He could have this piece of her, whatever lay beneath the wrapping. But then he freezes, eyes growing wide when a familiar looking blue mist passes through the closed door of James' room.

Sirius stares, blood running cold at the large panther as it walks across the room and sits at his feet. Regulus' eyes grow wide and James' jaw drops.

"What the fuck?" Regulus whispers, glancing at James.

Sirius blinks in confusion, reaching out to gently touch the magic in front of him. The black cat acts like it can feel his touch, moves it's head where Sirius' fingers hover. He jumps when a familiar voice rings throughout the room,

"Merry Christmas, mon ciel étoilé. I love you."

He nearly chokes on his breath as the panther stands and begins to fade away, his heart wrenching from the sound of her voice. She was alive. Breathing, speaking, feeling. She was alive, and she still loved him.

James whispers to Regulus, "What did she say?"

Regulus smiles slightly, watching as Sirius eagerly pulls the present into his lap. His older brother's cheeks are flushed, his face relieved. Regulus glances at James and repeats, "Mon ciel étoilé. My starry sky."

James wrinkles his nose and mutters, "Merlin, that's rather sappy isn't it?" He helps when Regulus elbows him hard in the side, scolding, "It's romantic, Potter. And it worked."

"What worked?" James sighs, punching him in the arm in retribution. Regulus rolls his eyes and says lowly, "She must have known he was upset. Hearing her, it was important to him. And now he looks better. See?"

They both watch Sirius tear into the blue wrapping paper, Regulus balking as he practically sheds it to pieces. Sirius apprehensively slides the lid off of the box, his eyes widening at what lay inside.

The grin that takes over his face fills him with new life, his hands instantly grabbing for an acid pop. He pulls it into his mouth as he chuckles, lifting a Witch Weekly magazine that has notes on articles scrawled across it and a rather large doodle of constellations. He feels like he may melt at the softness of it all. She'd planned this. She knew she was leaving, and she left him with things that reminded him of her.

He laughs as he flips through the pages of her magazine, shaking his head at the horns she drew on a picture of Celestina Warbeck and a funny advice column story that she circled and wrote his name next to in big, bold letters. She liked to circle the ones she knew he'd find funny.

His eyes linger on a moving portrait of them at the beach, one he hadn't realized had been taken until now. His throat grows tight, watching as they dance on the beach, the fire lighting up a smile on her face and a laugh that they both share. Remus must have taken it. Sirius makes note to thank his friend profusely for it later. Especially when he sees Toujours Pur written on the white border of the picture.

His gaze finally settles on a large shell, his thumb reaching out to run over the raised white and orange stripes. He gently takes it in his hands and studies it for a long moment. It's perfect, no erosion or chips or flaws. His lips twitch and he feels a strong pull to raise it to his ear. So he does.

His heart melts at what he hears. Ocean waves and seagulls cawing, occasionally interrupted by the sounds of wind or bubbling tide pools. And then, like the hull of a ship breaking through the waves, a laugh penetrates the sounds of the beach. Musical, familiar. Her laugh envelopes him like a warm blanket, soothing his aching soul and frantic mind.

How she knew he would need this, he wasn't sure. But he grasps the shell like it's his lifeline, holding on until he hears her laugh again, hears her distant and giggly voice yell his name followed by more laughter. She was a brilliant witch, an enigma in every sense of the word. Because somehow she had created this, shaped it for him.

He closes his eyes, a smile playing at his lips as he recalls the memories of them throwing wet sand at each other, and swimming until their lungs burned. He can feel the wind whipping his face, the water cooling his sunburn. He can feel his girl in his arms, can hear her laughing and saying his name.

Serenity fills him and he finally relaxes, carefully setting his box of presents on the floor before leaning back and chewing happily on his acid pop. At least now he could hear her voice, even when she wasn't here.

James and Regulus share a grateful smile when Sirius closes his eyes again and settles in, listening to his shell while they continue to play chess quietly so as to not disturb the relieved boy.