"I need something new to read but can't find anythin- " Hermione stops short in front of the library counter.
"Huh, what's this?", she asks, picking up the old and dusty book.
" 'Quills and Ink'? What's it's about? ". she wonders.
"See for yourse...
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* Third person point of view *
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12, Grimmauld Place; 1995
THE SEPTEMBER WINDSbrushed past, subtly, touching the leaves of the trees in the gentlest manner. The distant hustle of the people, making their way for their daily work, children running past each other, and dogs barking, could be heard by Harry as he sat on the old bed, which was covered with a thin sheet of dust. His hands caressed the rusty old pages, now fading in color but not emotion.
"It's all yours, of course," said Sirius, smiling a sad but warm smile, his hands folded. "It's a shame I spent more time with you and they did. They would have been proud of you." His eyes twinkled in a sad manner, almost as if they were to tear up due to the thought of his beloved friends.
"Yeah, I know," said Harry, flipping through the pages that contained pictures that moved. But they weren't just any pictures, they were the pictures of James and Lily, Harry's parents who died bravely for saving their child. Lily and James, the best friends one would ever have. "You've told me that before."
"Ah, I have said that, haven't I?" said Sirius, sitting beside Harry and taking the book of pictures from his hand, looking at the pictures and reminiscing the good days when everything was just how it was supposed to be. "Well, it's true enough to be repeated." He looked at a picture of a redhead and a boy with messy dark hair, his lips involuntarily breaking into a smile.
Silence followed his words for a while.
"How- why did she?" said Harry suddenly, after a long pause from Sirius's side, his eyes still fixed on the photograph, so full of emotion and love for his friends, even now. "Why did she go out with him? She hated him." He was confused, "If my mother loathed his father, why would she marry him?"
"Nah," said Sirius, looking at Harry with a large grin. "She didn't hate him. Not really." His hands turned the book to a page of two Hogwarts students, probably in their last year, smiling at each other while a much younger Sirius and Remus smirking at James from behind. The portrait itself depicted more enthusiasm and hopefulness than everything combined at this point in life.
And at once, Sirius Black was taken back to 1977, when friends were all you needed in life. When there was trust and the company of your loved ones. But most importantly, there was hope. The grey eyes of Sirius Black weren't haunting, the scars on the body and soul had not been embedded brutally along with tears. A place where one would die to be.
