Spread out in front of him
The street.
A few houses, scattered around.
Yellow lights pouring out onto
The street.
And him.
In the middle of the road,
White dashes spreading out
Like ghostly fireflies in the dark
Leading him
forward.
Not far, just a few feet
forward.
Heart thumping,
Heart hammering
His chest about to burst open.
Just like the door
Of the little cobbled house he knows so well.
Head swimming,
Thoughts floating
He can’t catch one can’t think straight
Can’t think can’t think can’t think
« James. »
A whimper.
The door is open
And he can see the door
And he can see the house
And he can see the hand
poking out of the threshold
five fingers
he knows better than his own.
Five fingers
Utterly immobile.
He can’t see anything
Anymore.
He’s running,
He’s on his knees
And it’s not only fingers.
It’s a whole person.
His person.
« James. »
A sob wrenches from his chest.
« James, wake up ! »
Wake up wake up wake up
But he’s not waking up and Sirius can’t see and Sirius can’t think and Sirius can’t exist
Cause he’s dead, right ?
It’s him, splayed in front of him.
His own head he’s cradling.
His own hand he’s holding.
His own hair he twirls,
Relentlessly
To weave life back into the body.
It’s him.
That explains
The silence
The unmoving
Death like a photograph
A moment on hold
You inhabit.
He must be in Hell
Corpses silence and his own demons.
Flames licking his worn-out jeans.
A laugh, he sobs.
A sob, he laughs
Manically.
He killed him.
They all killed him.
And now he’s a corpse he’s already rotting he’s turning into dust in Sirius’ hands
And there’s nothing he can do
And he killed him he killed him he killed him
He insisted even.
Oh the irony !
A bit like suicide, isn’t it ?
A laugh a sob he rises and laughs and sobs
Nothing makes sense anymore
No ups nor downs
He’s running and he’s falling
And
Lily.
Red hair against the hard wood pannels.
Eyes wide open, as if
She was watching the clouds
Painted on the ceiling.
Already up there, as Muggles say.
But there are no ups and no downs anymore, remember ?
So where’s Lily ?
And where’s James ?
And where’s he ?
Creaks, the wooden floor.
A cry in the night
Shattering the silence.
Here, Harry !
Alive, Harry !
What how why how how how
He doesn’t care.
He stumbles across the room
Picks up his godson
So small, barely a weight
In his arms.
Right and left and right and left and it’s alright Harry
It’s alright, I’m here, you’re gonna be okay.
Oh he lies, blatantly
To Harry to himself
He doesn’t care
Cause they’re all dead
And what’s a lie in all that death ?
He goes back to James
He goes back home
Where he belongs.
Harry is asleep
He’s too small to witness nightmares come to life.
Rain is splattering on the windows, hard
Sirius is back at Hogwarts,
In autumn.
So he lies next to James,
Behind the crimson velvet,
Nestles his head in the crook of his cold neck,
Harry between them.
He can’t feel anything but
James James James
« I’m so sorry. »
He doesn’t ask for forgiveness.
« Merlin’s… »
A gasp.
Sirius is awake,
Still glued to James,
Whom he watches intently.
To remember.
His lopsided glasses.
His messy bush of hair.
But there’s no need, he remembers,
He’ll remember.
It’s James, after all.
« Hold Harry for me please. »
Hoarse voice
Mad eyes.
If he’s dead
Then consequences are too.
In Death, he can do what he pleases.
So Sirius takes off in the night
To kill the killer.
Kill the killers.