Awake My Soul [ON HOLD]

“Sirius, wake up!”

He could hear his alarm blaring, and his mother screaming. Blindly reaching out, he found his phone and fumbled to turn off the incessant buzzing. Looking at the clock it read 4:30am, the sun hadn’t even begun to rise. From there, he struggled out of twisted covers, over to the dresser, and into the first pair of shorts he could find, shrugging a T-shirt on as he made his way down to the dining hall, grabbing his dance bag from by the door as he went.

Walking down to breakfast, Sirius was again struck by how standoffish the house was. Black Manor was a sprawling, cold thing. With its clean yet outdated architecture and complete lack of anything making it vaguely ‘homelike’, it felt as lifeless as Sirius. He stepped into the grand hall, a long table with numerous chairs awaited him. Immediately, he began walking to the end of the table, taking his seat to the left of Orion at the head of the table, with Walburga on Orion’s right. In front of him was breakfast, a single piece of toast, no butter, half a banana and half a glass of water. It would give him barely enough carbs to get through warm-ups, let alone a full day of rehearsals.

Think of your lines! Sirius could hear Walburga’s snapping voice say in his head.

“Sirius,” Walburga began not bothering to look up from her food as she continued, “Your schedule for the day is as follows: 5:30 warmups with Madam Hooch, 7:00 morning class in the Slytherin wing, 9:00 rehearsals begin with the leading class, 12:00 lunch, Kreach has already given your new dietary restrictions to the cafeteria—”

New restrictions? Sirius could feel his gut clenching already. “But Maman–” Sirius tried to begin, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“No, Sirius. I’ll hear none of your ceaseless complaining. Your last measurements were half an inch over where you should be, in addition to gaining weight.”

“Maman, it’s all muscle! It weighs more than fat.”

“There is a difference between toned and bulky Sirius, I’m sure you can guess which side you fall on versus which is preferred. We want long lines, not unattractive muscles. Toujours Pur, darling, image is everything.”

“Sirius, listen to your mother, we only want what is best for you.”

He stopped trying to complain after that, finishing his breakfast in silence, and thirty minutes later he had been driven to the front drive of the Royal Opera House, beginning to make his way to the studios for his private session with Hooch.

After entering the classroom, he quickly looked around the room. And, seeing no one, he snuck a protein bar from his bag and scarfed it down, wanting at least a little bit of energy for what was sure to be multiple hours of torture.

With fifteen minutes before the session started, he began stretching at the barre. Slowly, he worked through his taut muscles, and began a slow set of pliés. And at exactly 5:30 am, Madam Hooch walked through the doors.

“Look alert, Sirius. We’ll begin with a short jump combination and then get into directly working on your solo pieces for the upcoming shows. Your mother has said that your third act is looking a little heavy, so we’ll begin there.” She allowed him to move closer to her before beginning.

“Okay from first, we’ll start jump to fifth, second, fifth, fourth, back to fifth with the left in front, changement four times, second, fifth, second, fifth, entrechat quatre, three times, fourth time entrechat trois, beat land, rest in plié, and begin again on the left. We’ll go left right left right, then we’ll step away from the barre and I want arms in the correct positioning for another two sets. Got it?”

Sirius nodded.

“Right, on my count; five, six seven, eight,”

He began to run through the combination, and about halfway through, Hooch stopped clapping to keep time.

“You’re not utilising your pliés Sirius. I need to see more bend in your knees so you can get more height. Roll through your ankles and feet as well. Feel the ground as you push off the floor.”

Sirius attempted to demonstrate what she was asking for, bending his knees further into a deeper demi plié, before quickly snapping his legs into a jump.

“Better but as you’re extending from plié don’t snap your knees, you have to work through them as well, again” Sirius started the combination again, “Good! Keeping going,”

He continued the combination, making it through both sides before stopping to rest and begin it again at centre floor.

“Right, that’s looking very good. But I can still see your hesitation when you’re jumping, and you’re favouring your left side.”

He stiffened but didn‘t saving anything, figuring it best to remain silent than reveal his injury. Walburga wouldn‘t be happy if she knew.

An hour later, Sirius was thoroughly exhausted, muscles already aching, and the sun had barely begun to rise behind the grey skies. As he packed up his things, he made a stop into the PT ward immediately walking over to the office at the end of the short corridor. He knocked twice and listened. There was a slight rustling of papers and then,

“Come in!”

He entered, closing the door behind him and immediately going to sit on the patient chair.

“Good morning, Sirius” Lupin said, setting down his cup of coffee and rifling through a drawer of papers before withdrawing a folder. He looked through the file, scanning before he looked up again, “You’re not due for a session until this Friday. Is your knee still bothering you?”

He nodded once, already stripping from his warmup clothes and revealing his right leg. “As long as you retape it, it will be fine,” he said, tone clipped and cold.

“Right, well, since you’re here and rather just give you a full look over since you have the time. Ten minutes and you’ll be rid of me.”

Remus took his time unwrapping the tape on his knee, going gently so as not to aggravate it. What he revealed was a still inflamed joint.

“Okay lay back for me,” Sirius did so, Remus lifted his leg to his chest, “Start bending, as soon as it gets painful, I want you to stop.”

Sirius began and almost immediately flames of pain were shooting down his leg. He kept going, his knee was almost at a ninety-degree angle when Lupin stopped him.

“Sirius, I know it hurts, I can see the grimace as much as you try to suppress it. And I really can’t advise you to continue dancing on this leg in its current condition. Pain meds and PT sessions will only get you so far.”

Sirius, having been caught out, gave a slight shrug before sitting up. “It’s three weeks until opening night, I’m not dropping out now.” There was a finality to his tone that left little to be discussed on the matter, but Remus tried anyway.

Reaching for the KT tape, he began reapplying the tape as he began again, “And I understand that, I do, but in your condition and with the training regime you keep, it isn’t sustainable. You can either take time off to heal and get better or make it through this show and not have a career by the end of it. It’s up to you Sirius, but if the injury continues to progress as it has, I’ll have to alert the Board of Directors.”

With that, Remus cut the last of the tape and gently pressed it into the back of his knee, sitting up and looking him in the eyes. Sirius sighed, another slight nod. He grabbed his things and as he was exiting said, “Thank you for your concern, Lupin, but sitting this show out isn’t an option.”

He turned and walked away allowing the door to click closed behind him.

—

Sirius didn’t arrive back at the Black Estate until nearly midnight. After rehearsals let out, he had a brief dinner before heading to the company gyms. He met with the family personal trainer for roughly two hours. Then it was back to the studio to continue individual practice, as scheduled by Walburga of course.

He was tired, hungry, and thoroughly ready to fall into bed for a few hours of sleep. He quickly showered off, then all but collapsed into his bed.

Time to do it all again tomorrow.