James was sitting on the old tire swing hanging off his favorite tree, watching the sunset. The brilliant pinks and oranges streaked the sky like harmless spells of beauty, or like a watercolor painting left in the rain. All the colors ran and blended together, but it was no less beautiful.

James Potter had never seen a sadder sunset. To him, it was bittersweet. It was the end of something good, and he had no way of knowing what would come after the long dark of night, whether it would be bright sunshine or gray clouds. He just didn’t know, couldn’t know, and it left him feeling powerless.

He couldn’t remember when the last time he had felt like this before. Come to think of it, he doubted he ever had. He felt so empty, so utterly alone, so achingly lost. His eyes burned but he didn’t blink. A tear slid silently down his cheek.

When you love something so much and loose it so quickly, it doesn’t seem real. Not even if you knew it was coming, knew it was going to happen, is it possible to avoid those feelings. James was angry, hurt, and lonely; so many things bottled up inside one person that you couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. One minute he was happy, the next he was cursing and breaking things, including his foot when he kicked the tree too hard.

He was gone. The man James had admired most, the person who was his friend and mentor and so many more things. He had left this world and gone to a better place, that’s what they’d told him. But he was so angry that he had been left behind. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

James angrily wiped his face on his sleeve and idly rocked back, causing the swing to creak in protest but move nonetheless. Melancholy was a good word, happy and sad, bittersweet, lonely, confused, desperate to find a loophole in the fabric of life. His grandfather just couldn’t be gone, not really, he wouldn’t have left James alone. He never would have left him like that, everyone was wrong, he was still alive, he had to be. There had been so much they had planned to do together, so many things they hadn’t done…

James had wanted his grandfather to see him graduate from school. He had wanted him to come see one of his Quidditch games, see how well he could play. He’d wanted to introduce him to his best friend, the friend that would someday be his best man at his wedding. He had wanted him to meet the girl he loved, had always loved. Just because he was young didn’t mean he didn’t know what love was, couldn’t feel it. James thought he loved too much. He thought that if he didn’t care the hurt would go away. It only made it worse.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t had good times too. It was his grandfather that bought him his first toy broomstick and taught him how to catch bewitched golfballs from the air. They’d gone fishing together, built the old treehouse together. He’d even put up the swing he was on now. But it was over now, his grandfather would never smile at him or ruffle his hair again.

James didn’t look up when he heard the footsteps softly coming towards him. He felt the eyes boring into his back and wondered whether or not he was ready to say anything. Right now he just felt like staring at the bittersweet sunset.

“James, mate, I just heard. I’m so sorry.”

James turned to see Sirius, looking rather awkward with his hands in his pockets and his hair in his face. He idly blew it away, looking down at his shoes without much interest.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

James felt the anger bubbling inside him again. Sirius didn’t know anything about family. He had a mother and father, brother, and he had left them. What time he wasn’t in school he was with his friends. Sirius didn't go home anymore, didn’t spend Christmas with family. He had turned his back on family.

“What do you know about family? Nothing! So don’t think you can come over here and tell me what to feel or think or say, or that he’s happier where he is and I should be too. Don’t tell me he’s gone forever, I’ll never see him again, just shut up!”

Sirius winced. He walked up and heaved himself onto a low limb, dangling his legs.

“Look, James…”

“Shut up! Shut up or I’ll curse you, I swear I will!”

James whipped out his wand and pointed it at Sirius. His hand was shaking so bad it wobbled all over the place; he couldn’t keep it steady. Sirius looked apprehensively at his friend. This wasn’t what he had expected at all.

“Fine.” he said coolly. “I just thought you might not want to be alone. I’m your friend, mate, I’m here for you. I won’t tell you that you shouldn’t be angry. We don’t have to talk at all.”

James stared after him a moment, then lowered his wand with a sigh and sat back down on the swing. His sneakers trailed across the grass, back and forth. They sat in silence. Sirius watched his friend, saw how the loss was chewing him up from the inside out. He wanted to cheer him up.

“Hey James, you want to play Quidditch?”

James looked at Sirius, and smiled a little.

“Yeah, I think I would.”

They carried their broomsticks down the hill towards the clearing in the pine woods where they played. James heart throbbed suddenly when he remembered that his grandfather had loved Quidditch, too.

“He liked Quidditch, my Granddad did. I just wish he were here now.”

“I know. He was your hero. You’re lucky to have had someone like that.”

James turned at the bitterness in his friend’s voice. The anger was ebbing away, leaving him with this tired empty feeling.

“Who is your hero, Sirius?”

“My hero? I don’t know.”

He laughed, but had lied. James was his hero. He was brave, good at Quidditch, had a good family. In short, everything Sirius wanted to have. But more than that, James was his best friend. Nothing else needed to be said.

James was watching his friend, knew there was something he wasn’t saying.

“What would you do if your hero died?”

Sirius stared at him, taken back by the question What would he do if James died? He’d have bloody revenge, that’s what. But if time were the culprit….

“Same thing that you are. I’d play some Quidditch.”


~~~~~~Thanks so much for reading, please review!!!