l'osservatore della bellezza | wolfstar

and i may not understand

Another month, maybe longer, and after a long deliberation, spring finally conceded defeat to summer, allowing the sun to settle onto the city below. You could see it winding through the flowers and stroking the walls, and when it made love to the shadows you would blush and turn away, giving it privacy. The skin of every passing person carried a faint copper glow, and they sweated, which shouldn't have been attractive, but in sunshine like this they looked like the people the Devil sent to tempt others to Hell. You would sweat too, for different reasons entirely.

But each day, when Dorcas entered Lupin's home, it was lightless.

Sure, the windows were always open, allowing the sun to barrage in, but it was only an intruder. It touched nothing, and left no imprint when it went away.

Remus had no light in him, either. There was no adequate way to describe him: he was a phantom, a ghost, or a mere shadow; he looked haunted, hollow, sad, empty, purposeless, lifeless; he tried to smile, put on a brave face, pretend he was alright, he was a facade, he was broken and irreparable.

He was all these things, but there was something more - something wildly unfathomable about him. Dorcas did not have a word strong enough to fit.

She rarely disturbed him anymore, letting him sit quietly wherever he chose to do so. Even her biting quips had softened, as if she were scared of cracking him open with a misplaced word.

It could not be avoided today, however. Marlene had requested to meet her in the square nearby, and Dorcas was too eager to see her to even consider missing the engagement.

She took a breath now, stood outside of the drawing room (Remus' chosen seating area for the day), and knocked gently.

"Enter."

Opening the door, Dorcas felt her heart ache slightly at the sight of Remus, sat alone in his chair with a painting abandoned in front of him. He was facing the window, but did not look out of it; instead he gazed unseeing at the canvas, which bore an unfinished likeness of Sirius upon it.

"Remus, I wanted to ask you something."

He turned to her, eyes bright. "Yes?"

"I... my friend and I would like to meet in the square, now, if that's alright?"

"Now?"

"I'm sorry, we couldn't find another time, I can stay behind if you'd like."

He smiled. "Dorcas, don't be so nervous. It isn't like you."

She returned his smile. "I shall endeavour to be more like myself, then."

"Good. Now go see your friend - you wouldn't like to keep her waiting, would you?"

"Who said it was a 'she'?"

"Your expression did. Now shoo."

With that, he turned back to the painting, his smile falling almost immediately. Dorcas followed his gaze. Sirius didn't have any hands. Or a mouth.

Within a few minutes she was out the door, a glee burning her fingers and cheeks. She reached the square quicker than she expected, bumping into too many people, but she didn't care. She just wanted to see her.

And soon enough, she did. Marlene was waiting by a pillar, fiddling with her skirts. She was beautiful, with her golden hair piled on her head and her skin mildly tanned.

Dorcas waved, and Marlene smiled briefly at her. Then her face turned serious, and she looked away.

A little confused, Dorcas made her way to the other girl, and curtseyed. "Hello, ma'am. How are you this afternoon?"