Sirius was twelve years old when he came home from his first year of Hogwarts with a pot of kajal in his trunk.
He’d nicked it from his best mate, James, as a prank once. It wasn’t until after James found him with it spilled across his hands that he learned the actual significance of the powder.
“It’s special,” James had told him. “The guys wear it for different hols, you know? It’s supposed to ward off bad energy, bring out the eyes, that kind of stuff.”
This was the first Sirius was hearing of it. Of course, after spending a half a year in the four-poster bed right next to James’, they’d grown quite close. He’d learnt a bit about James’ culture, but not this.
James had lived in England since he was eight, and stayed with his extended family in Punjab before that. When Sirius found this out, he made some ignorant comment about how good James’ English was, for only living in the UK for a couple of years before attending Hogwarts.
“Mum taught me since I was born, really,” James had shrugged as he said this. James’ parents, Effie and Monty, as they liked to be called, had actually met during their Hogwarts years and then moved back to Punjab together after finishing school. Hearing this, Sirius felt properly ignorant, but James assured him it was no harm done.
Between the two of them, they spoke five languages. Sirius had English and French, and James English, Hindi, and Punjabi. Their roommate, Remus, spoke Welsh, but the boys only ever got to hear it when he was really cross, or tired.
The boy’s dorm consisted of four of them, all eleven years old and tiny at the start of the year. Remus was sassy, but a brilliant prankster when he came around to it. Peter was quieter than the rest of them, but he was really very sweet when he spoke up. James was loud and lively, and he never really cared about being too much of either. Sirius was posh and reserved, but he had a bit of a rebel streak going back at home. Being around the other boys brought it out in him at school, too, much to the disdain of their teachers.
Sirius first stumbled upon the little golden pot of black powder when James was reorganizing his trunk one night.
“S’that?” Sirius asked, picking it up and examining it. James looked up and saw what he was holding. He gave him a bit of a worried look.
“It’s called kajal- or kohl - or surma, depends on where you’re from.”
“Right,” Sirius looked at him with his brows furrowed. “What does it do?”
James looked down and fidgeted with the edge of the shirt he was folding. Sirius was confused, he’d never seen James act so weird.
“You - you put it around your eyes. It’s like… powder,” James answered.
Sirius chuckled, “What, like makeup? What’ve you got makeup in your trunk for, Potter?”
James turned his gaze back to Sirius and reached over to snatch it back out of his hands. “No, it’s- it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” James mumbled, placing the tiny pot back into his trunk. He shoved a pile of folded shirts on top of it after.
Sirius eyed him, confused as to why he got so touchy about a little teasing. But he dropped it, as requested, and sat back down on his bunk without another word.
That was the first time he’d seen the pot of kajal.
The second time was when he’d nicked it, trying to play a prank on James right before the winter hols. He wanted to make him think he’d lost it for a bit, and have James looking all frantic around the room before turning it over. Then, they’d all laugh about it and head off home.
In retrospect, he’d gotten, like, half of what he wanted. James did run around the dorm, checking everyone’s trunk at least once.
“Mate, s’alright, I’m sure it’ll turn up,” Remus assured.
“Maybe one of the house elves grabbed it up by mistake? We’re a mess up here, honestly,” Peter offered.
“Ugh, I dunno. Are you sure none of you have seen it? Mum’s gonna kill me if I come back without it. Diwali’s coming up and if I don’t have it, I’m dead,” James groaned.
Sirius said nothing. He sat atop his four-poster, carelessly reading a poetry book that he’d also nicked from Remus. Sirius, in fact, had seen the pot of kajal. He’d seen it right in front of him. Because it was in his hands. Behind Remus' poetry book. Right now.
Sirius was mindlessly twisting the top of the pot between his fingers, not paying attention to how it was loosening rapidly. Before he had even realized what was happening, the pot came away in two parts, spilling black powder all over his hands and Remus’ book.
“Ah, shit, fuck!” He exclaimed intelligently.
All three of the other boys looked over, alarmed. James took a step forward to make out the scene in front of him. Sirius looked at his messy hands, and then up at James.
“Mate, I’m sorry, I-” He started.
“What the fuck, Sirius, why-?” James walked over to him and picked up the top of the pot, the applicator stick, from the ground. The other half was still in Sirius’ hand. James snatched that, too.
“James, I’m sorry I didn’t know it would do that, I was just trying to fuck with you a bit,” Sirius apologized.
“Yeah, yeah, Sirius, I’m sure you were,” James re-screwed the pieces back together and turned away from him.
Sirius shifted his gaze up to Remus and Peter, who were staring at him with unreadable expressions.
“I’m just gonna… yeah,” Sirius mumbled, gesturing towards the bathroom attached to their dorm.
To his surprise, James followed him, with the pot in his hands.
“It’s alright, mate, really. I overreacted a bit, it’s just,” James started, standing next to Sirius in front of the sink. Sirius had begun rinsing his hands, watching the powder mix with water and swirl down the drain.
“It’s special,” James told him. “The guys wear it for different hols, you know? It’s supposed to ward off bad energy, bring out the eyes, that kind of stuff.”
Instantly, Sirius’ heart sank. Shit. He remembered earlier that semester how he’d made fun of it, teasing James for carrying around a bit of makeup. James was about the extent of Sirius’ cultural exposure outside of the French aristocracy that was the Noble House of Black. He said stupid, ignorant shit sometimes. He meant no harm and James knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt about being teased for something so special to him and his family.
“Shit, James, I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know or else I never would have-,” He started.
James cut him off. “I know. I just get sensitive about these things sometimes, you know?”
Sirius could kind of relate, kind of. He hated when people made fun of his family dynamics, but it wasn’t really the same as this. Sirius opened his mouth to speak again.
“It’s okay, Sirius, really. I know you didn’t know. I just thought maybe I could, I don’t know, show you how it works? So then you know?” James offered. He held up the golden container, with what was left of the kajal inside.
Sirius’ eyes brightened, “Yeah, yeah, I’d love that.”
James smiled back at him in the mirror. He untwisted the brush from the pot and leaned closer to the mirror in front of them. Sirius watched intently as James tapped off the excess powder and raised his eyebrows. Then, he held the applicator horizontally to his waterline and blinked slowly, swiping the product across the bottom of his eye.
When James reopened his eyes, he blinked away a few tears and laughed lightly. “My dad always does it so well, his eyes don’t even water at all! I’m not that good yet, though.”
He repeated the action on his other eye and then stood back up, turning towards Sirius.
“See?” He said, “Just like that.”
Sirius had to admit, it looked really cool. He loved the way it made James’ hazel eyes stand out.
“It looks great, mate. S’like Keith Richards or some shit,” Sirius told him excitedly. “Why don’t you do this all the time?”
James chuckled. “I could, probably. Mostly Mum just likes when we do it on special occasions. I like keeping it with me, though. It’s like having her with me, even when I’m here,” James looked down. “It’s stupid, I know.”
Sirius shook his head. “No, no, mate I think it’s cool, all of it. Even the ‘your mum’ part.”
James laughed again. He was about to twist the pot back together when he paused and looked up at Sirius.
“Do you… wanna try it?” He asked.
Sirius’ eyes lit up as he smiled and said, “Yeah, I’d love to.”
Sirius was not as graceful as James, admittedly, but they got it done eventually. Sirius looked in the mirror and saw something in himself that he didn’t totally recognize. He knew what his mum would say, that it was a disgrace for him to have any type of makeup on, that he looked disgusting, that the Noble House of Black would never stand for something so untraditional. Though, Sirius supposed, this was the exact definition of traditional for James, and he thought that was really quite cool.
“Are you boys done in there? I gotta piss,” Remus said from across the dorm.
“Hey Remus, come check this out!” Sirius yelled. He swerved around James and stepped back into the room. Remus stood across from him. His ever present expression of annoyance faltered, just for a second, as he looked at Sirius.
“Looks-,” Remus cleared his throat. “Looks great, mate. Can I piss now?” He moved around Sirius and pushed James out of the doorway unnecessarily fast.
Sirius wore that kajal until it wore off, stealing glimpses of his own reflection whenever he could. He didn’t like it the same way James did, Sirius decided, because James said it wasn’t actually considered makeup. And even though he’d teased James about it, the idea of wearing makeup - especially if it made him feel like this - was actually very cool.
He pushed aside the feeling of loss that he felt when he realized the kajal had completely faded from his eyes. They traveled home for the winter hols, and James took the half-empty pot with him. It was probably for the better, though, that Sirius didn’t have remnants of the powder left on his face. He could only imagine what a waking nightmare his mother would be if she saw it.
The second semester came and went quickly, and Sirius’ thoughts of makeup and kajal and pissing off his mother faded with it, aside from the length of his hair, which, now at his shoulders, he knew would anger Walburga immensely.
Soon enough, the time came to head home for the summer. Sirius had been in a mood for days leading up to the train ride, dreading having to spend the next few months without James and Peter. And Remus. Remus, who, in recent times, had grown less annoyed with Sirius and more… fond, perhaps. Now, he spent more time with him and James and helped plan pranks and whatnot, whenever he was bored.
The entire Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was packing up their things for summer, some for the last time and some, like Sirius, for the first. Sirius’ elegant red and gold trunk was neatly packed and locked, just like his mother had taught him.
“I think you’re forgetting something, mate,” James said. Sirius furrowed his brow and gave a quick once over of himself and his bed. He looked back to James, at a loss. The latter then pointed directly to Sirius’ trunk with his Mahogany wand. Sirius sighed, realizing.
“Right, yeah. Mum would not be welcoming me back with open arms carrying a trunk like this, huh?” Sirius grabbed his own wand from where it was perched behind his ear. He gave it a quick wave towards his trunk and watched as the deep maroon and shiny gold colours changed into sharp and haunting shades of green and silver. It was a gift from before he was sorted, and he knew he couldn’t exactly request an appropriately designed one from his mother and expect to receive it.
Sirius had mastered the Colovaria charm during his first weeks of Hogwarts, well enough that he could do it silently, now. It was a fourth-year charm, but Sirius had seen a few older Gryffindors messing around changing their hair colors at breakfast one day and demanded that they teach him. Since then, he’d been using it to change all his House of Black, Slytherin-infested belongings to shades of red and gold.
Sirius stared at the ugly trunk in front of him, thinking dreadfully about how awful his summer was going to be. He could feel James staring at him, too.
“Forgot something else too,” James added, quieter this time. Sirius tore his gaze away, but didn’t make an attempt to wipe off the pained expression on his face. James met his eyes.
“What?” He mumbled.
James smiled and Sirius now noticed both of his hands held behind his back, hiding something. “Uh, this,” He said.
Sirius watched as James brought his hands forward, clutching the golden pot of kajal between them. Sirius shook his head, confused. “What?”
“It’s for you. I want you to have it,” James responded. “I know the next few months are gonna be rough at home and I just, I thought maybe this could help you. Like it helped me.”
James held out the container towards him. Sirius took it, gently, cautiously.
“I always carried it around here, you know, to keep my mum with me. But I know you said we won’t be able to write you, so I figured maybe this could be how you keep me… with you. If that makes sense,” James explained, albeit a little sheepishly.
Sirius didn’t know what to say. He’d never really received a gift like this before, one that was thought out, sincere, intended for him and him only. His throat tightened with emotion and his eyes started to water as he looked at the fragile, golden container in his hands.
“James, I don’t really know what to say, I just-,”
“Oh, mate, don’t cry, c’mon this was supposed to be happy!” James cut him off, chuckling.
Sirius laughed, “No, no, it is, I swear it is, it's just that I’ve,” He paused. “Well, I’ve never really gotten a happy gift before. So, it’s- it’s cool. To me.”
Sirius looked back to James, smiling and sniffling all at the same time. James’ expression softened and Sirius could tell that he was getting pulled into a hug before it even happened.
“Don’t be afraid to wear it,” James whispered into his shoulder. “Mum filled it up for you and everything.”
So now, at twelve and a half years old, Sirius sat in his room, in his unhappy home, with a lovely little memory in his hands. He’d kept the pot of kajal in his pocket, afraid that the house elves would confiscate it once he’d arrived home.
His mother had already yelled at him for the length of his hair.
He didn’t like how fast it was, how quickly she waved her wand at his head and chopped it short. He tried to ignore the feeling of loss. Remus had once asked if Sirius grew his hair out to hide behind it. Maybe, he responded. He had never really thought about it, honestly. It had just felt right. Having long hair made him feel more… girly, he supposed. He didn’t always feel like a girl, though. He just felt like Sirius.
Sirius who loved his long hair. Sirius who loved the idea that, if you looked at him from behind, you couldn’t tell if he was a boy or a girl. Sirius who liked how he looked with kajal smudged on his waterline, not because it made him look like a rockstar, but because it made him look like that movie star in the muggle magazine that James had shown him. Shelley Duvall, he said she was called. She looked so pretty with eyeliner on, and Sirius realized that the kajal was about as close as he was ever going to get to having any.
He cried about his hair, but only briefly. He counted down the days until he could have James use that charm his mum taught him and make it long again.
He looked down at the golden container of black powder in his hands and decided; if he didn’t have his hair, at least he had this. At least he had this to make him feel right. To make him feel how he felt when he and his roommates tried on a few Gryffindor girl’s uniforms just to be funny. To make him feel how he felt when his hair finally touched his shoulders and he could have this girl, Marlene, braid it on the common room floor. To make him feel like, one day, he could understand why he had all these weird feelings to begin with.
Sirius walked over to the vanity in his room, a haunted, ancient looking thing. It wasn’t his style at all, but it had a mirror, so it worked for now. He unscrewed the brush from the container and remembered how James had shown him that day in the bathroom. Tap off the excess. Raise your eyebrows a bit. Hold horizontally. Blink slowly and drag.
It wasn’t perfect, but he found that his eyes didn’t water this time. Cried out all the tears I have already, he thought gravely. James would be proud of him. And maybe a little jealous that Sirius could do it with no tears and he couldn’t.
Sirius smiled at himself in the mirror and went to do up the other side. He blinked rapidly a few times when he was done, just like James did. He looked in the mirror at his reflection.
He didn’t look right, not without his hair. But it was a step closer.
Sirius tightened his grip on the golden pot in his hands. He didn’t feel so lonely anymore, thinking of James. He didn’t feel so wrong about himself, wearing the kajal.
And damn it if James Potter wasn’t right about fucking everything.