Do Shooting Stars Collide?

Do Shooting Stars Collide?

I've been sitting here next to my apartment window for what seems like hours just watching people on the dark London streets. Lovers, young children, loners. I see them all from up here; I see my dreams. Hopes I used to have for myself and a certain significant other; dreams I have while I sleep. Weather such as this always seems to make me pensive. Or it could be the alcohol. I always was a melancholy drunk.

This weather, hot but breezy like the end of summer, always forces memories that I would much rather have forgotten to the front of my mind. But to forget the memories, I'd be forced to forget something I once loved.

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I sat with my hands folded on my lap, though they were clenched and clammy, in the waiting room of St. Mungos. My hair fell forward over my eyes so that no one would be able to read my emotions. Just as now, I tried to forget about her; but trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you've never met.

I'd been waiting for over an hour, and thoughts; questions kept filling my mind. I wondered how she was feeling. Was it still as painful for her as it was for me? Was it ever painful for her? And what about him? Did he ever know about her love for another? For me? I had a habit of fidgeting with the bracelet she had given me that night when I was nervous, I only wanted to know why I couldn't forget about those useless thoughts. That day wasn't supposed to be important for me. No. It could've been, but that's no one's fault but my own.

Then it was my turn to see her, but I hesitated before I opened the door. She's always been able to read me so well, and I didn't think that I could risk her knowing. I ran a hand through my hair, funny how different it felt when it was her hands.

"Remus!" she smiled as I walked through the door, "Shut the door and come sit down." I obeyed. I couldn't help it. Every time I saw her it was like the first time all over again. I would get knots in my stomach and I was at a loss for words. The chair was a few feet away from the bed that she lay in, covered from her chest down, and in her arms, lay the infant. We sat in silence for a few moments and I was dying to just shout out and break the suffocating silence, but I resisted and instead gave her a feeble smile that she hadn't even seen because she was looking at the infant.

"What's...it's name?" I said lamely, not knowing the sex of the child.

"His name is Harry." She smiled at my reaction as if she had known how I'd respond. I was shocked. Why had they picked that name? "You seem surprised, Remus, why?"

"I--I guess I didn't expect you and James to settle on that name," I said, not really knowing what other explanation to give her.

"Honestly, I was the one who wanted that name. James wasn't too keen on it, but said that if it was what I wanted I could name him Harry," she looked down at the child and tenderly stroked his cheek, "I remembered that you said you liked the name Harry. I remember a lot from that night..." She seemed almost sad as she spoke and instantly my mind was filled to the brink with memories. I saw the night as if played out in photographs, all scattered on a barren floor. Her smiling against my lips as she gently unbuttoned my shirt. The heat I felt rise into my cheeks as she did the same to her own blouse. My skin tingled under her hands' touch, exploring my body. And the heat caused by the both of us as we moved together in the dark. Labored breathes, her tongue in my mouth, pressure between us; all these sensations I hadn't felt before or since that night came back to the front of my mind. Then after, the talk we had had about life if we ever got married. The topic of children, of course, came up and I had said that I liked the name Harry and she had agreed with me. Even now, I can't deny that we would have been so perfect together.

"I do like the name, but I don't understand," I said and she looked at me as if concerned. Was that night really important to her, or was it only an act to make me feel special? "Why choose a name that I like?" She looked down at the child, avoiding my eyes; her face somber.

"Because, you're my friend, Remus. And I thought it'd make you happy," she looked back up at me, her face smiling again, "What's it mean? The name?"

"I think it means power. I'm not certain, though." I tried to ignore the fact that she named the boy a name that I had always liked instead of naming it something that James, her husband, preferred. It gave me hope that I knew would only prove to be false. I didn't want this to be harder than it already was. I didn't want more pain.

"Really?"

"Yes," I answered promptly, and we fell into the abyss of silence that I'd been fighting to stay away from. She went back to dote on the child. Harry. I couldn't help but notice how her long, red hair fell into the child's face, and he giggled from the tickle of the hairs against his cheeks. Her emerald eyes looked down at the child lovingly. I remember when all her attention used to be on me. I never noticed how wonderful that made me feel until it stopped coming. Her delicate, yet strong hands touched the child's stomach, tickling him gently, as she kissed his forehead. It made me long for days gone past. For the days that Lily and I had been together.

"Remus, you want to hold him?" Her question was innocent enough, but I couldn't bring myself to say yes. It was too painful.

"Maybe later."

"Remus," the way she had said my name was heaven, "Remus, what's wrong? You seem...different. Detached," it amazed me how she saw right through my masks.

"I'm fine." The words came out of my mouth, but it didn't sound like my voice. It was too husky and I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, "Just have a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

"It's complicated."

"Try me." She looked at me with a small frown on her face, but words just didn't seem to be able to come out of my mouth.

"I--I would tell you, but I don't even really know." I smiled sadly at her and her bright eyes revealed such contrast against her somber face, it made me feel guilty somehow.

"Do...do I have anything to do with it?" she asked cautiously, and I was overwhelmed with emotion. All at once, I wanted to shout, smile, cry, kiss her. Instead, I focused on getting out of the situation that was causing such feelings to surge through me.

I made for the door saying, "I should be going. nice seeing you. And Harry."

"Remus,"

I had my hand on the doorknob, but I didn't turn around. She's always had a kind of control over me, even though I'll deny it to my death.

"Wait, you never got to hold Harry." She said the words carefully and slowly as if I was a scared animal about to turn tail and run, which was exactly what I had planned on doing. Instead, I let her coax me back. I turned around to see that she was sitting up more, holding him out for me to take. The child smiled and giggled.

"Only for a moment, though. I really should be going."

"Come here, sit and you can hold him." She patted the bed mattress near her thigh. Hesitantly, I sat down and the baby was lowered carefully into my awaiting arms. He looked like James. Small wisps of stubborn black hair already began to grow on the scalp, a jaw line that, once the baby fat was lost, would be strong just as James'. But Harry's eyes had the same glow as hers. A startling emerald green. Bright and bold. Beautiful. I touched the child's cheek and he gave me a small giggle. He reached up toward my face and held onto a lock of my hair that had fallen into my face as I looked down at him. I couldn't help but to smile at the child, and yet, he saddened me. If things had just turned out differently, I would've been the father. I would've been the one to comfort the child when he would cry, I'd have been the one watching him grow up, I'd be the one he'd love and look up to. If only I had told her how I had felt. If I had only said those three words...I'd be the one with her.

She and I had been good friends, confidantes. We had grown close, and I had fallen in love. I was reserved, but she had fought her way through that problem. We spent more nights than I can count in the astronomy tower. We'd talk for hours, and I'd feel so good. So complete. The ways that she could always make me blush with her words and touches. She'd smile and laugh lightly at how easily I was embarrassed.

"Remus, have you ever been in love?" she asked me one night as we looked over the balcony at the dark sky.

"I think so."

"Really?"

"Yes." I laughed at her questioning face that stood out so vividly on that warm, fall night.

"Who're you in love with?" Her face was so very coy as she turned toward me, her hair blowing lightly in the warm, breezy wind. But I hadn't answered right away. I only stood there, starring at the sky.

"Do you think they collide?" I asked, hoping the question would change the subject.

"What?"

"Shooting stars. Do you think they collide?" I gazed up at the dark sky and saw a star begin it's fiery descent. I said, "Look, just there." Pointing toward it. She looked at it for a moment, and was silent. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her turn to me again. Her hand slipped to the crook of my neck and head just below my ear and she gently turned my head toward her. She was so close. I felt her breathe on my skin and it sent chills down my spine and desires through my body. She leaned into me and kissed me. At first it was slow and tender, but soon became fast and needy. Driven by desire. Our tongues danced with each other, moving rhythmically, her hands went through my hair, pulling me closer so that my body was pressed against her and the railing to the balcony. My hands explored her body, anything they could touch. It was our first kiss together and I had wanted it to go on forever. But we pulled apart; I blushed, breathing heavily as she looked back toward the sky.

"I hope they collide," she whispered.

James had been outgoing, whileI was shy with girls. But even after James had been going out with her, our sweet meetings continued. That night that haunted my mind in the middle of the evening when I was most vulnerable had come after she and James had started going out. But we continued to spend time out there on the balcony, and though my conscience didn't let me rest much, I couldn't stay away. James was one of my best friends, but I loved her. She liked both of us. Said that she couldn't choose between him and me. But then James proclaimed his love for her. He said that he loved her the night he asked her to marry him. And I had lost.

"I think he likes you, Remus." Her voice woke me from my thoughts of how I could've been holding my child, "Remus?"

"Yeah. He's...he's wonderful, Lily." It was the first time I had said her name in months. Lily seemed to beam, and I couldn't help but to smile along with her even though my heart felt like it was being pulled in two. I was so happy for her, yet so unhappy for myself. I looked down at Harry, fearing that tears might fall from my eyes. But instead I saw the dim hospital light reflecting off the bracelet that was round my wrist. Shifting the infant, I undid the clasp and handed it to her. She took it, letting its meaning and memory soak in. Then her hand reached out toward my face and it touched the same spot it had so many years ago. I looked up; not really believing it was her hand. Those eyes stared at me the way they had so many times before, and she leaned forward as she had done before. But this time, she kissed me on the forehead, and I closed my eyes tightly, savoring the feeling inside of me. When she pulled away she stared at me with tear-filledeyes, biting her bottom lip.

"Take care of yourself, Remus," she said softly as I put Harry back in his mother's arms, and got up to leave once again. We both knew that this signified the end. When my hand turned the doorknob, she spoke,

"For the record...I do believe that stars collide. I just wish that they weren't hurt in the process."

"I do too," I whispered and then I left everything I ever knew or loved behind me. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

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A light breeze blows in through my window making the tears running down my cheeks turn bitterly cold. I look up into the night's sky. And there's the shooting star, laughing at the poor, drunk, fool in the window. I still stand by the thought I had that day in St. Mungo's, because now I know it to be true. Nothing is or will ever be the same again.