Chill

You're in the Astronomy Tower, and it's midnight. You're alone, of course, and you've managed to open a window. You could have comfortably sat on the ledge by the window, but you stand instead. The icy January wind bites at your skin and whips your hair around your face. It you had let it grow any longer, you could have almost choked on it. You're not exactly glad you cut it, not in this moment. Not when you're this cold, this alone.

It's quiet up here, but not silent; the curtains flap at an irregular tempo, first against the window frame, and then, when the wind changes, against each other. Your breathing sounds harsh and out of place to your delicate ears. You can almost image your pounding heartbeat is shaking the room, just a little.

And suddenly, the door is opening, and James is there. You don't turn around, but you know it's James. Who else would know, instinctively, where to find you? Who else would even be awake, prowling around school at this hour? Certainly Filch could not have opened the door that gently, and he would have neither the grace nor the courtesy to hang back in the shadows until you've settled.

Finally turning, you're distressed and almost defensive. "I didn't come up here to-I wasn't going to. Jump, I mean. That's not why I'm here."

Maybe he understands, maybe he doesn't, but at least he doesn't feel the need to ask. "I know," just above a whisper, and you can hardly hear him above the biting wind. "That's not why I came."

Your lips say "I know," but your eyes say thank you. He knows you, this boy, and you can't remember a time when you've ever been more grateful.

You have suppressed your characteristic nervous energy for too long, and it retaliates in shivers that come from more than just the cold. James steps forward, out of the darkest of the shadows, and approaches you cautiously. Something akin to sympathy plays across his features, but it's gone when you blink.

You want to reach out to him but you can't, not just because your arms are hanging, half-numb, at your sides. Halfway hoping the wind will steal your words away, you whisper, "Jamie..."

He's at your side now, warm and solid by your side. The world tilts for a frightening second, so that he's the center, unmoving, and the room spins crazily around you both. You gasp and close your eyes. When you open them, James is holding you up, halfway between amusement and genuine concern.

"All right, Sear?"

You pause, knowing what he meant but thinking beyond, thinking about all the places he's found you and brought you back, all the winter nights that he's had to hold you and warm you up, just so you could feel. "I will be. You-you've helped, more than you know. I-just, thank you. For this. For everything."

"You would've done the same, for me."

"You wouldn't've needed me to."

"Don't be so certain," and he accompanies it with a half-smile, teeth flashing bright in the dark of the room. "Sirius, are you ready? To go?"

A last, fleeting glance toward the window, and the myriad of stars beyond, and then you nod. His hand is firm on your shoulder, guiding you as if you need it-don't you?-and you leave together, without fanfare and without regret. You're still shivering, a little, but he pulls you close, just for a minute. You smile against him, and you're a little bit warmer. And with him tonight, another tiny part of your heart has healed.

~fin