Style // Sirius Black

Chapter LI - Part One

The end.

What does it mean for a story to come to an end? For the period to finally find its home at the end of a sentence and the writing to finally cease? Is it the tying of every loose end or the endpoint of each tale? Not necessarily—because that's not how life works. Not everything is resolved at the end of a story, and not everything has a final answer.

Not every story has a happy ending; sometimes, things don't end how you want them to. Death is a given in life, and sometimes, that's how the story ends. When the breathing stops, so does the story. Or, if the story has just reached its peak and there's nowhere else to go with it, it ends. You don't always need to have everything wrapped in a pretty bow for the story to find its completion. It's okay to let go. It's okay to stop telling a story when you don't want to anymore or when you feel like your story has ended.

Every story ends; it just matters at which chapter.

—

Lyra let out a low grunt in the back of her throat as she carried out the giant scarecrow, her breathing laboured with exhaustion. She'd been decorating for Halloween in a few days, deciding that her and Sirius's first Barnton Halloween, and according to the locals surrounding the area, it was a big deal. It was a lower cottage town, but the children that occupied the streets still enjoyed the spooky spirit. Despite the fact that a war raged on outside their doorstep, and people were dying while laying their lives on the line—children sang.

It was beautifully contradicting, the sounds of their charming towns skipping past the Potter-Black household and the grave reality of their world. Lyra tried to stay somewhat optimistic, seeing as she was about to marry the love of her life in four days and her nephew was the sweetest thing to grace the Wizarding World. But still, it was difficult not to dwell on the darkness and shadows that crept around her every corner. The silence from the blood-named blonde that lurked in the back of Lyra's mind was even more discomforting than the sickly stature of Peter.

Lyra focused most of her energy on the wedding, despite all of the planning being done and the big day creeping closer. November 1st was the day that she and Sirius had decided on, seeing as he refused to do it on his birthday. Her mind still raced with the fact that she was about to become Lyra Black, no longer carrying the name of her parents. Sirius had insisted she didn't change or hyphenate it, but Lyra wasn't one to half-ass anything. She wanted to devote her heart and being to Sirius—so she planned on taking his last name.

"One of the great perks of being a wizard," James's voice called from a few feet away as he and Lily wandered up the dirt driveway of Sirius and Lyra's humble home, "Is that you don't have to carry eighty-pound scarecrows."

"Sometimes, James," Lyra shot back, dropping the hay-filled statue at the foot of the porch, "The muggle way of doing things is even more rewarding."

"You bet Sirius to a non-magic weekend, didn't you?"

"Shut up."

It was October 29th, 1981.

Lyra dusted her jumper free of hay before wandering over to where her nephew sat in his father's arms. Lyra scooped the child into her embrace, curling him close to her chest and letting out a coo. She couldn't help but coddle the boy—he was everything perfect in Lyra's eyes. The dimples on his cheeks, the emeralds of his eyes, the dark tufts of hair that sprouted from his head, and the rosy red of his cheeks. It had been a few weeks since Lyra saw Harry, and every time he slipped from her grip, she felt a part of herself scream out for him—keep him close, it always said, don't let him get away.

"Sirius home?" Lily asked as she nodded towards the cottage.

"Yeah, he's inside; what's up?"

"Just wanted to talk with him," Lily shrugged, sending a quick glance to James, "Mind watching Harry for us, Ly?"