Heavenly Waters||Sirius Black

Chapter 39

Standing under green leaves, Gwen waits to hear familiar laughter. To see a familiar grin or familiar crooked spectacles.

She waits to dream James Potter by her side, waits to reach out and grab his hand to make this part a little easier.

It was far from easy.

Leaving Hogwarts had somehow become like waking up from a dream, despite how some of her worst nightmares occurred within it's four walls.

Gwen didn't enjoy it, didn't like the feeling that simmered in her chest as she looked upon the castle from the edge of the forest. The sun fades behind it, impressionistic strokes of pale blues and oranges and the faintest shade of yellow. Painting the sky with feeling. She just wasn't sure what that feeling was.

She knew she was coming back. But she also knew when she did, things would be different. The struggle wasn't letting go of the things she thought she knew. That was the easiest part for her, diving head first into an ocean of uncertainty and surfacing in a new world full of possibility. Gwen didn't struggle to let go. not really. It was the act of letting go that brought her so much. The struggle was that people would not easily forgive her for her passive approach to life. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd be hated by someone she loved. It most likely wouldn't be the last. She could only hope, that with time, Harry would forgive her.

She had to hurry. The wards would close soon. If she didn't leave now, she wasn't certain she would commit to it. To leaving. Not when she felt within her bones that Sirius was near. She wants to stay, to go to him. To guarantee the future. But she couldn't. She had to go. She had to.

Her shoulders lift slowly with her inhale, her eyes close. That painting, the one the sky held like a piece of history, it stays with her. And with that painting gifting her a sense of peace, she lets go.

Her fingers gently unfold the cloth in her hand, skin just barely brushing a piece of chipped floral china. That's all it takes. And then she's gone, sucked into a continuum of time and space that stretches on for ages. Time, her most beautiful friend and hateful enemy. Her eyes stay closed when her feet touch the ground only seconds later. And then she hears it.

Waves.

Her eyes fly open, her lungs take in air, and her eyes burn with unshed tears. She can hear it. The ocean. She can taste the salt in the air, feel the wind hugging her shoulders.

Her feet sink into green grass, the air carrying the whisper of the sea. She can't help her sudden laugh, the way it explodes from her chest with notes of joy that were finally on key. Real. A real, genuine laugh. One that warms her head to toe, one that shakes her body and makes her hands press to the sides of her face to make sure that this isn't a dream. She had many words to describe her understanding of Albus Dumbledore. But looking upon the landscape before her, she can only feel insurmountable gratitude and acceptance. He knew her. Probably as well as she knew him. She would take this apology, and she would remember it forever.

She can see sand in the distance, endless strides of white that turns a comforting shade of tan as the deep blue waters greet it kindly. The waves are gentle, rolling forwards at a steady pace that just hints at their potential for power. Gwen laughs harder, she laughs and swipes away the tears that wave back to the ocean, salt water greeting saltwater. Her eyes sweep across the sand and sea, down to the grass that tickles her ankles and leads to a cream colored cottage up ahead. A short wall surrounds the home, a slightly rusted gate standing guard with the support of lazy, green vines.

Her feet carry her forward as her eyes stretch upwards, taking in the column that stands strong behind the cottage as her fingers brush the tall grasses beside her. Her cheeks burn from the force of her grin, her heart already calling to the brick structure. She'd never seen a lighthouse this close, this stoic and strong despite the chipping red paint at the top. Maybe it wasn't France.