Amaranthinia

do you remember telling me you’d found the sweetest thing of all

you said one day of this was worth dying for

so be thankful you knew it at all

but it’s no more

and you probably don’t want to hear tomorrow’s another day

but I promise you you’ll see the sun again.

Amaranthinia: night of a thousand stars

It is after sunset on January sixteenth and Sirius has finally woken from his post-Christmas stupor. He seems brighter, happier, more excited suddenly- his dark eyes blaze to rival the common-room fire, and that white grin breaks from ear to ear as the clock moves forward, ticking their lives calmly away. When he has taken his last bite of pudding, he sits, practically trembling with eagerness.

Then, leaving James to his conversation with another pretty girl and Peter to his slowly disappearing supper, he grasps Remus’ wrist and stands and pulls Remus along with him out of the hall and up the stone staircase. The wind and cold and exertion override Remus’ confusion, and he submits, trusting Sirius to keep him safe.

The stairs to the astronomy tower have always been cold; so they are now, and it seeps through the thin leather of Remus’ shoes, drafting down the stone walls in damp frozen gusts. Sirius wraps his cloak tighter around himself. Remus’ lips are tinted purple.

"Almost there," Sirius mutters through shaking teeth. I know, Remus almost says- he’s attended class at the top of these stairs for seven years, after all- but for some reason he doesn’t, just stays silent and gives his customary smile of concession, anything for Sirius.

They emerge from the narrow torchlit corridor, Sirius parts the mildewing curtains at the top of the stairs, and Remus sees the sky, the winter chill blowing it into a masterpiece of stained-glass cirrus clouds as the final fingers of the magenta sunset splay out over the night, reaching for the castle and the land beyond, the stars slowly rising. The earliest ones glitter in the darker reaches of the atmosphere, shining on Sirius, blanketing the pale moon high above them in shadow and envy.

The viewing platform of the astronomy tower is a rooked round floor, the ceiling of the classroom below, with a large telescope in the center and padded mats stacked in a corner for students to sit on as they observe the skies. Sirius drags one of these over now, clasps his bare hands together behind his head as he lies back and grins at Remus.

"What do you see when you look at the stars?" he asks after the other boy has lain down beside him on the cushion and they are both staring up at the darkening heavens.

Remus considers this for a very long time, as is his wont. Sirius is beginning to doubt whether he actually heard the question or not when he finally speaks. "Space," he says. "Space and fire."

"Fire?"

Remus turns to look at him; it’s getting darker and darker, and he can hardly see the other boy in the half-light, all the angular caverns of his face thrown into shadow with just the moon on his lips and stars in his eyes. "Well, fire and gas; that’s what stars are made of."

Sirius tries not to be disappointed.

"What do you see when you look at them?" Remus asks, because Sirius isn’t very good at lying and it sounds like the right thing to say.

"People," Sirius says quickly, like he’s already thought of the answer. "The people in the myths that inspired the stars’ names, you know- Cassiopeia and Pollux and Castor and Orion. I see people I know- there’s my brother- and- and my father and cousins."

He’s not stupid, he knows why Sirius is so excited. He knows that being called the brightest star in the night sky races Sirius’ heart, fills him with hope. When things get worse, Sirius will look to his star and find something less immediate, something higher.

Sirius knows Remus knows. Instead of speaking, he reaches over and covers Remus’ hand with his and holds it up, pointing out into oblivion, out towards the faint lights on the darkening horizon over the sea of earth until their fingers meet on that white beacon hung in the blackness. "Sirius," Remus breathes, and neither is quite sure who or what he means.