i
Taking a chance,
That leap, through-
Time and space
Endless, falling…
And she falls with it, it falls with her.
The right to be happy has deserted her. The emptiness scrapes its cold fingers against her skin and it’s probing, breathing its foul breath; all she can do is look away. And in that one moment, she stands there- cold, bitter, or perhaps frozen for all eternity. Does it even matter now? It doesn’t matter, it has never mattered. When she cannot bear to look down anymore, she looks up.
Her hand stretches out to stain the sky; long, black inky lines traced across it, waves maybe, or quick, harsh strokes- wide and angular curves. Perhaps, all things are changing.
Sometimes she wishes for a different name.
ii
She walks over slowly to Sirius’ house. She can never bear to go there, to see him with all his casual elegance and nobility, standing amongst the beheaded house-elves and the accumulated grime of centuries, but maybe in some other world, this is the way it should have been.
Sometimes she wishes for a different place.
iii
She looks at Sirius; it looks like he is still the picture of foolish pride with his arm casually slung around the doorframe and his black bangs falling into his eyes.
‘May I come in?’ she asks tentatively. He steps away from the door and she marches up to his room like it is some sort of established routine, pointedly turning away from the woman standing at the foot of he stairs.
‘The Muggle-lover is back, isn’t she, Sirius?’
‘Yes, mother.’ She hears him sigh, ‘And I am glad she is.’
Sometimes she wishes for a different time.
iv
‘Sirius, what are we going to do?’
And when she sees how slowly he shakes his head, she expects no other answer.
v
For some reason, she feels a sense of security in Sirius’ room, and no matter how much he pretends to hate it, she can see that spark in his eyes. He loves his room but is too afraid to show it, it is a familiar feeling though, isn’t it?
‘‘Meda, it’s going to happen sooner or later,’ Sirius says, pushing his long hair out of his eyes.
She looks down at her feet, preferring not to look at him. ‘What will happen?’
‘You are going to break. I see it in your eyes. It will happen.’
When she looks up, her grin is almost maniacal, a hidden quirk of amusement in her eyes which in some other world might have been strange, humorous even, as she really had nothing to laugh about right now. ‘What about you, Sirius? Where do you think you will go?’
‘I am leaving.’
vi
‘I am leaving,’ he repeats slowly, as if by saying it again he is making the impact less painful.
For one whole second she stares into his gray eyes and he looks back at her, two souls trapped for eternity except this is where the story ends- he is free and she has no idea what to do. So she does the one thing she always does when she is hurt- she breaks.
‘When?’
Sirius looks at her with almost uncharacteristic sympathy, but then, when all things are changing, she supposes he will change as well.
‘Today. James is taking me in.’
She slowly stands up till she is almost level with him, her head touching the tip of his nose. ‘Does your mother know?’
He gives a short bark-like laugh. The very possibility seems so absurd that he cannot even begin to contemplate it. Then, when he realises that she is actually serious, he reaches his hand out to stroke her hair. ‘I haven’t told her yet. But we are fighting a losing war, aren’t we?’
She looks up at him, her face hard and her eyes sad. ‘No, Sirius, you are fighting a losing war. ‘
For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, his face registers surprise and Andromeda feels a kind of savage pleasure at hurting him like how he hurt her. Even if she has to pay the price of hurting herself.
‘Andromeda,’ Sirius says, watching her recoil in shock at the use of her full name. ‘Andromeda, do you mean to say you aren’t coming with me?’
‘That is exactly what I mean, Sirius.’
‘But why?’ he asks, and she can almost hear the hurt in his voice. ‘Why not Andromeda? We could turn our backs to them, all of them, and walk away with nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t you want any of that?’
‘That is you, Sirius. That will never be me.’
He nods at her slowly, not really understanding but nevertheless accepting.
vii
It is time, he knows, time to leave everything behind. He turns around, and walks out of the front door leaving it ajar with the cheerful countenance of a man set free, not once looking back at the woman who has sold her very soul for him.
If all love is exception making, Andromeda has made her greatest exception.
viii
She has always questioned the night skies- why am I here? What is happening? Why does it have to be this way? In another time, in another place, things might have been different. But perhaps, they were never meant to be.
~Fin