Title: can not be true
Fandom: Harry Potter
Character / Couple:
Sirius Black Prompt: 003. End
Rating: R
Summary: A precise moment of the night of Halloween 1981, Sirius Black through
Word Count: 1000
Notes: anguish and pain (how nice ... .. .)
can not be true
"Get on the bike. I do not need more. "Cold and distant
Words that fall like stones, one at a time, atone.
The voice is empty and at least as far the eyes still wet now but still, distant. Mezzogigante even realize that there's nothing to say to that guy from the stone face, white as milk, which is not even more while listening thanked him and near the powerful on two wheels.
He turns back one last time, sniffling, trying to mumble a few words of other circumstances. But the guy has already turned back and his heart clings to watch him staggers like a drunken puppet sad, sustaining effort on the legs that do not support it. Sirius walking and every step seems accompanied by the torment of those who advance barefoot on broken glass.
It does not matter to the engine noise that is started behind him, the wheels slipping on the asphalt. Gray eyes wide open and full of panic, are focused on plumes of smoke rise lazy to cloud the night sky, from the destroyed house, not far away. They are incredulous and desperate eyes and trembling, shedding tears as the torment that has dried up prematurely.
The upper part of the house is torn, shattered by the explosion.
His feet do not want it to take it forward and sliding every movement a discharge of all real pain along the nerves. It drags on with all their hearts, desiring at the same time, do not approach, do not see not having to face reality. Unladen swallow a lump that burning will not be able to swallow, never, in all the years of his remaining life. It has a
scream that rushing all over her body, blood, bones and muscles numb with shock, a scream torn and crazy. A name, a name that only runs, fierce.
James.
No.
The road is long, too, while not repeating in his head, faster, more intense and violent. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, forever. Please, no.
His steps were marked by the litany of despair, trembling and uncertain steps, walk crawling on the ground unable to rise from the natural ground, rolled off a far more oppressive pain the force of gravity. He can not breathe, do not even know if his heart is still beating, the lungs have tight, sore, it lacks the breath.
It 's like drowning in a pit of fire and he gasps with a scream that can not reach your lips, because it has no air to burn out.
can not be true, his only thought is articulated. Can not, because it is not right, it's too monstrous and absurd, because James has not done anything wrong and it is his best friend, has twenty-one, a wife and young son, because it is a sunny person and alive and beautiful. It can not be true, because a few days ago, James laughed and talked with him, still feels the sound of his voice echoing as if even now. So how can it be dead, if you are talking about?
How?
can not be true, not because James would never do that. Not so. He did not throw them on the shoulder the immense burden of death, knowing that this squeezing, sinking into an abyss with no exit. Weight
beginning to weigh on him, while a trickle of cold sweat slips slowly down the back, with a violent shudder and uncontrolled more like a cramp than a quake. Gray eyes are wide open even more mangled, her lips purple in comparison with snow-white skin unnaturally, are stretched in a grin that makes her face look like a grotesque skull. Guilt creeps under the skin and takes away the little oxygen left, he fell down.
It clings to the fence of the garden with withered hands with anguish, opens the lips in search of 'air but can only emit a faint moan. Then gather strength and advances, even towards his sentence.
can not be true, Peter could not have done this. They are friends, are like a family, and are fighting together this horrible war to have a better future for themselves, to Harry and all the children like him. Is repeated continuously, if they say it every day and every night in my mind to get by. They can do it, as usual, since they were children of eleven years together, side by side. E 'appeasing their dirge, after all, are Marauders.
are friends. No, can not be true.
In the living room there is still the light on, but it is desert. The smell of smoke approaching becomes suffocating.
When it comes to the driveway, Sirius felt a new force desperate to push through the body, has a pulse energy dictated by terror. It is not true: open up that door ajar, and James will be there, a hand to mess up his hair and a sly smile, just what he always adorns his face. Sirius
plunges forward, her throat closed and turned the irises of helpless suffering, trachea scratched by the poor, irrational hope ridiculous in its illogical, but spontaneous quivering. It covers the last few meters in a race broken down, the name so dear ready to emerge from the lips .
opens the door rush, rushing inside, and almost trips over the body abandoned mercilessly in the hall, avoiding the last moment and his mouth opens wide, his face is deformed to a horror so great that the human voice is not enough to express , cries soundlessly.
He's there, lying on the ground, motionless.
His brown eyes look at him with terror and lost. Jury even with reproach.
His eyes.
That is the image that will be printed on his retinas for the rest of his life: his eyes wide open and off of James, his body twisted awkwardly the fall.
And he understands that only two have been poor deluded.
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