(no subject)
Title: Lonely,Lonely
Author: Devonwood
Format and Word Count: Ficlet; 504
Rating: PG-13 (T)
Prompt(s): Prompt 8 (Set Fire To The Third Bar- Snow Patrol and Martha Wainwright), Prompt 10 (I Think It’s Going to Rain Today- Katie Melua)
Warning: No spoilers for DH. Unbeta’ed and un-britpicked.
Author’s Note: Taking a break from DH fics to write something in HBP-era. I've only read the other entries up to uh.....August the 2nd. Yeesh. ;) Posting from a laptop, so I apologize for formatting...
If I think hard about it, I can still remember your smell. Werewolves have good noses, you know.
We -Sirius, you and I -were all at Grimmauld one afternoon while the children were at school. It was the first day in over three months that we both had the day off, and we all were gathered in the den relaxing and listening to the wireless. Sirius had gone off to feed Buckbeak, and you crawled into my lap, smiling brightly, and snuggled into my shoulder. I remember you smelled of pine and walnuts, an odd combination, but I couldn’t resist inhaling as much of you as I could. I was addicted.
You probably don’t know this, but I stole one of your shirts before I left. It’s one of my favourites -that pale gray one you used to wear all of the time. Even though we’re hundreds of miles apart, I still felt connected to you through that silly shirt. When the full moon approaches in the dead of winter, the night sky is the same color as the fabric, and I think of you. The first time I met you, you were wearing that shirt, and you accidentally spilled spaghetti sauce on it. I cleaned it up for you, and I guess that’s where everything started. I lost that shirt, you know. I awoke one morning after a full moon, and it was snowing outside, so I crawled into an abandoned shack that was just over the hilltop. One of the windows had been smashed from the inside, so I climbed in and fell asleep again on top of a bed in the corner that had been stained in blood. When I went out the next morning, my bedroll had been shredded by one of the older werewolves the night before. Your shirt included. Now, I feel more distant from you than ever, as though that scrap of material was my lifeline.
There’s a Muggle village a few miles downwind, and sometimes I sneak away from the pack and walk the streets. There are only a few houses and a small market; all are closed when I visit in the dead of night. Sometimes, there would be a baker in the second story of a house that was still up at that time of night. She whistled as she baked, and she reminded me of you, as there was flour everywhere when she was done. She saw me once, and threw me a scrap of walnut bread. So nice, just like you. But I made a noise as I exited the village, kicked a piece of scrap metal or something, and a man inside that house noticed. He yelled something to the woman, and the light went out. I haven’t seen her light in the window since. And just like that, and just like you, she was gone.
If I think about it, I can remember you. But it’s only when I don’t think about it that I miss you the most.