CHAPTER TEN. . .
The Night Ends

"You are a pipe dream."
Nora Sakavic, The King's Men

Most people have the privilege of being sculpted from marble-their bones tapped into formation by a chisel and hammer, guided by the eye of a god-like artist. Their smiles are forged in sunlight, teeth shining like pearls and their blood, a thinned red paint that breathes life into their beating paper-mâché hearts. Innocent, breakable. They live and die with the clear intent of just existing, without need for further questioning the existence of wizards and who gets to decide their fate. It's all plain and simple, a clearly laid out path for them to follow accordingly. The path for a population that are naive to the future. A thin white veil of ignorance laid over their eyes from the day they were brought into the world. They have no real reason to worry, or speculate about the darkness that crawls in the shadows of the universe.

Unlike August, who from birth seems to be doomed to live his life with one part of his conscious in the presence, and the other in trapped within his own mind. Rather than being sculpted from marble, his flesh and bone were ripped apart and carefully puzzled back together as the perfect tragedy. August drew the card of Death, rather than the card of The Sun. His smile was not forged in sunlight. Instead, his frown was forged from the silver tears of those doomed to die. His teeth do not shine like pearls. Instead, the rotten bone is hidden behind a frown of perpetual despair. His blood is not thinned red paint. Instead, the dark black ink of the family tree that curse his shoulders with a weight seemingly heavier than the Earth.

August longs for the thin white veil of ignorance, but it was never placed over his eyes.

He sees glimpses-single moments of Malia's shining smile; Lily's comforting voice reading them the latest chapter of Emma which they'd picked up earlier in the month together as a group. He sees James perched on his broom to cheer his team along, Remus with Hot Chocolate clutched in his palms and Peter carefully pouring over his new pack of Tarot Cards (painted and gifted to him by Malia) with his tongue stuck slightly out of his mouth in concentration. August sees Theodora, eyes bright and arms welcoming whenever he needs: his sister, and his partner in crime. Lastly, he sees Sirius; storming eyes locked into him in an intense gaze meant only for him, and nobody else.

Without August knowing, there was an extra card drawn within his lifetime: The Lovers. His unconscious creation of a connection that means more than he realises-a name chanting in his head on a continuous loop: Sirius Black, Sirius Black, Sirius Black. August was left feeling exposed that night when they fell asleep hand in hand; heart in heart. And frankly, fear has crept through his slowly-healing heart and permanently settled into carefully into the creaks left behind. Aphrodite believes that she is doing him a favour, and August can't decide if he agrees or disagrees. Because there was no sign, there was no warning; it was sudden and an electric shock to his system. A welcomed chance at a happy-ending, rather than a tragedy.

Naturally, the last day of school before Christmas break catches August off-guard, and he finds himself unbalanced as he enters the Muggle Studies classroom for the last time that year. The classroom is warm, open and familiar; something that August welcomes in his time of uncertainty. And again, he's late. Professor Keating greets him with a look up and down, taking in the crumpled state of his uniform and mussed hair.

"Good morning, Mr Darlington." He says. "Did you rest well?"

"Something like that." August replies with the phantom of a smile. The truth is that he did sleep last night, dreams played on the backs of his eyelids and his eyes closed. He laid there, sleep peacefully by Sirius' side until finally the sun rose, and so did he. Sometimes, the truth is hard to grasp and the words are choked in your throat, and you choose the easier option: to lie. But this time, he doesn't need to.

"Good," Professor Keating remarks, "because you're up first. You may now have the floor."

August swallows, pulling his satchel from around his body and places it on the ground beside him in front of the blackboard. He surveys the room as he breathes in-Malia slants him a smile, holding up a small piece of parchment with the words 'Go August!' written on them in sloppy handwriting, and Lily sends him a supportive thumbs up. August's gaze shifts from his girls to James and Sirius with matching grins to Remus with his own taut but equally as supportive expression and Peter nervously shifting through his notes. August clears his throat, shuffling slightly.

"Do you have any notes?" Professor Keating questions tentatively.

"Uh, no." August replies quietly. "Give me a second."

Professor Keating nods. August wrings his hands together, popping the knuckles one by one before he decides to slip his wand out of his pocket and points it in the direction of the record player. Quietly, Build Me Up Buttercup slips from the speakers and into the silent air.

"Right," August claps his hands, "I suppose I should begin, huh?"

Laughter ripples through the class, and August claps his hands again-feeling more comfortable as the support rolls in.

"The question that My Captain presented was: what will your verse be?" August voices. "We had the entirety of this semester, specifically till the last week before Christmas Holidays and that meaning now, to figure out what piece of writing we think reflects the Muggle society and culture as a whole. And I know that it sounds like I am just repeating things with no meaning, and that I have no answer but I want you all to understand the question as a while. We had a choice to make, books and poetry to consume all with the thought in our heads: what will our verse be. . ?"

August begins to pace the length of the front of the classroom, surveying his peers with a look of vague confidence, finding comfort in his position at the front of the room. Finding comfort in the fact that finally after weeks of reading, talking and analysing, he can present his findings. August takes a pause for the question to once again sink in.

"For a while, I wandered through the plains of word-building and imagery without a single bloody clue what the answer could possibly be. My first thoughts were: what sort of a torture challenge is this, and how can we choose one singular book or text?" August lets the next ripple of laughter sink in with a smile. "As the days and the weeks went by, time that I spent time reading different books with my friends late at night and asking their opinions, I began to form an answer."

"The answer isn't simple, and it isn't singular." August looks to Malia and Lily, breathing in deeply. "I came to the conclusion that there isn't a singular book that I could choose to represent the entirety of a society. Much like the wonderful, shit-stirring people in my life, each offered something different and versatile."

August turns his gaze to Professor Keating, speaking to him directly. "I know what you said, and I thought on it, I truely did but I know that I am right."

He turns away, crouching down next to his bag and shifting through pieces of parchment and stray quills for the books he buried at the bottom. August pulls out seven books: Animal Farm, The Odyssey, The Iliad, Five Centuries of Verse, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, To Kill a Mockingbird and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Each thumps against against Professor Keating's desk as he drops them.

"I read these, and I read more." August begins speaking to the class again. "And Merlin, as pretentious as it sounds, each and every single one of these books gave me something different. From Animal Farm I learnt the dangers a society can have within them. From The Odyssey I learnt to be resourceful, and to not let my pride, my hubris get in the way of my journey. The list goes on and on; truthfully I could talk about this for hours but I don't think Keating wants me here for hours."

Professor Keating shakes his head with a laugh.

"Simply," August takes another breath, "the answer is that every single book written was written for a reason and that is the legacy, the verse that we leave behind. In a more complicated answer, we could not possibly condense the Muggle existence into one singular book or poem or text or even a movie. And it is our duty as those of the human race to search for more. That's all I really have to say. . ." August finishes. "Thank you."

Professor Keating kicks off the clapping, projecting a prideful and shining smile in August's direction. Mindful of August's still-exhausted body, he squeezes August's shoulder.

"Great job, Mr Darlington. You've done well." Professor Keating says quietly, and pulls him closer. "Carpe diem."

"Carpe diem." August repeats as he locks eyes with Sirius, and smiles.

☾☾☾

Sirius Black rests in a velvet loveseat by the fire, using the little amount of firelight to stare at the letter in his hands with a look of contempt. Sighing, he crumples it and relishes in the feeling of satisfaction when the words contort and warp beneath his crushing grip, and the weight on his chest softens a little. Sirius' gaze flickers from the parchment to the fire, and after a moment of consideration, he pitches the parchment into the flames and watches it burn with a malicious, borderline mirthful satisfaction. He leans back, breathing in, and releases the breath loudly into the quiet air before clasping his hands and letting them rest on his stomach. The sounds of footsteps causes Sirius' head to snap towards the stairs to the girl's dorms. Lily Evans stands at the bottom of the stairs, paused to concentrate on the embroidery hoop in her hands with her own letter tucked beneath the sweater. Her fingers know exactly what path to take to thread the needle through the fabric locked into her embroidery hoop as she carefully stitches small pieces of lavender into a spare cotton sweater of Malia's; her tongue pokes out slightly in concentration and her forehead creased.

"Evans," Sirius greets.

He successfully snaps Lily out of her concentration, and she cringes as she jabs her finger with the needle. Sucking the blood from the wound, Lily makes her way over to the loveseat and collapses carefully beside Sirius.

"Why are you awake?" She asks, resuming her embroidery.

Sirius is silent for a moment, tucking his knees under his chin and blinking into the firelight. "I couldn't sleep. What's that?"

"What?" Lily follows his gaze to the letter clutched in her hands and she pulls a face. "Oh, it's a letter from my sister."

He raises a brow. "Not happy to hear from her?"

"Our relationship is complicated." Lily replies.

"Trust me," Sirius says, "I understand complicated."

Silence follows, and the world falls away for a moment. He watches the flames rise and fall, dance against the walls with flares of embers flicking off the wood and into the air. The wood crumbles beneath the weight of the flames, cracking in half before collapsing into the fire pit, and shrouding the red room in darkness for a single moment. Lily rises, pulling another piece of wood from the fire and throwing it into the flames, watching contently as the wood is eaten away.

"You could burn it." Sirius suggests. "I can attest to the fact that it releases a lot of stress."

Lily nods slowly, turning the letter over in her palms.

"I think I have every word memorised now." She murmurs quietly. "She thinks I'm, we all are monsters. Because we're different, we're magical. When we were little girls, nobody could keep Petunia and I apart. But then I got my letter and she didn't. You know, she wrote to Dumbledore to see if she could come with me, to see if there was any magical bone in my body." Lily laughs through the pain echoing within her chest. "Petunia was devastated when he said that she couldn't come to Hogwarts, and then it all went downhill from there."

Sirius remains quiet, letting her speak into the fire but he moves to stand by her side.

"Suddenly, my own sister thought I was dirty, and strange, and a freak of nature." Lily sniffles, and it's only then that Sirius notices the tears dripping down, staining her freckled cheeks. She smiles at him gratefully as he reaches over to squeeze her hand. "She hates me."

"Petunia doesn't hate you." Sirius says. "She just doesn't understand. But Lily, now you have people that do. You have a family here, and we're going to be here for you, no matter what."

"Thank you." Lily whispers with a hiccup. She brushes away her tears, squeezing Sirius' hand. Without another moment of thought, Lily throws the letter into the fire and looks back to Sirius. "Thank you, Sirius." She's quiet for a moment, regaining her breath before she looks to him. "Want to play a game?"

Sirius shrugs in response. Lily steps away from the fire, kneeling to look underneath the coffee table and pulls out a wooden, flat box. She jiggles it, waggling her eyebrows to the rustle of chess pieces. Somehow, Lily manages to paint on a shining smile as bright as stars even with tear lines tracking her cheeks. She takes a seat on the floor in front of the fire and crosses her legs, setting the box down on the floor. Opening it, Lily carefully pulls out the pieces and places them in their correct positions.

"Is it a Muggle game?" Sirius asks in confusion. "Because it looks like Wizard's Chess."

"It's the Muggle version." Lily explains, eyeing the pieces to make sure they're in the correct formation. "What Wizard's Chess is based on. Less violent, and more strategy."

Sirius nods and lays down in front of the board across from Lily. "Alright, I'm in. You're on, Evans, and I plan on winning."

☾☾☾

It's 3am when August wakes from a fitful because James Potter has quietly broken into his room and shaking him awake violently. August groans, throwing a hand over his eyes before they slowly open, and the silver light of the moon pours in from the window closed window directly next to his bed. It's those cold colours that project against James' face as he carefully reaches out a hand and nudges the boy's arm in an attempt to rouse August from his half-asleep state.

"Darlington." James whisper-yells. "Darlington, wake the fuck up."

August groans again. "What do you want, Potter? I swear to Merlin if this is something Quidditch related I'm going to go back to sleep and then hex you in the morning so badly that you won't need those glasses because you'll be blind as a bat."

"Murder threats aren't cute." James replies with a chuckle, and he tugs on August's arm. "Come on, you have to come see this."

Pulling August to his feet, James steers him out the door of his dorm and closes it quietly behind him before pushing him in the direction of the stairs. Silently, the two teens pad down the stairs and the sight before them causes August to tiredly smile. Sirius, laid out on the ruby and gold rug in front of the fire, is grinning. He watches Lily move her chess piece across the board with her tongue resting, squished between her teeth. Lily looks annoyed, but her eyes betray the happy, albeit competitive, underlying expression that twists into a frown as Sirius takes out her last knight.

"I should go get August and show him how shit you are at chess." Sirius mocks. "He'd be beyond disappointed at your lack of talent."

"I'm already here," August yawns. "And thoroughly disappointed in you, Evans. I thought you were better than this."

Sirius turns to him and slants him a grin, beckoning August to his side. Tiredly, he makes his way over to the boy and plops down next to him with a crooked smile. He looks down at his hands, tracing the motley of scars that crowd the backs of his hands. Sirius follows his gaze down and holds out a finger. When August nods, he traces the scars and taps August's knuckles twice and looks back to the board.

"Yes or no." Sirius asks quietly, pulling away from August's hand.

"Yes." August replies with a nod, though slightly confused.

Sirius raises his arm, slinging it over August's shoulder and pulling him into his side. (They miss the way James and Lily look to each other, both with equal looks of confusion before they begin muttering to each other and eventually shake hands.) Exhaustion pulls at the strings of August's brain as he melts into Sirius' side, allowing him to hold him close like he never had before. Not even when they fell asleep that night in Sirius' bed. He doesn't look when more footsteps tumble down the stairs, Remus and Peter appearing behind James and Lily. There's a knock at the painting and August's brow furrows.

Lily, bewildered, rises from her place on the floor across from Sirius after moving her pawn and opens the painting. Malia steps through the doorway with a yawn, dressed in her Flintstones pyjamas.

"Morning," she narrows her eyes and stares at her hands, "I think."

"Why are you here?" August asks, speech slightly slurred with sleepiness.

"Nice to see you too, Darlington." Malia snaps, tone free of maliciousness and riddled of amusement. "Sirius sent me a message via paper and magic."

August nods. "Nice."

"Who's winning?" She asks.

"Nobodies winning-"

"I'm winning-"

"Right. . ." Malia narrows her eyes at Sirius and Lily before falling onto the couch between Remus and Peter.

"You are the actual worst at this game, Evans." Sirius jests, knocking off another of her pieces.

"I know." Lily seethes in competitive rage. "But I'll beat you at monopoly."

"Another Muggle game?" Sirius asks.

August nods, resting his chin on Sirius' chest. "Yeah, she made me play it once. It lasts for years."

"It doesn't last for years." Lily defends the game. "You're just impatient and dramatic."

"Rude," August mumbles. He tucks his face in Sirius' chest, frowning when he shifts and carefully lowers August's head into his lap. At first, August lies flat, taut as a board before Sirius' fingers start absentmindedly weaving through his waves and playing with the long strands of chocolate hair, and he starts to relax.

Sirius looks down at him with a raised brow. "Get some sleep."

August closes his eyes and stumbles into his dreams, listening to the sounds of bickering and the crackling fire as a lullaby.

☾☾☾

Before August knows it, he's on the train back to King's Cross Station with his trunk on the shelf above his head and Sirius by his side. That morning, when they all arose, they were sprawled among the couches with August's head still resting in Sirius' lap. And they only woke because a First Year thundered loudly down the stairs and yelled at the sight of six Gryffindor teens covering the couches, and a stray Ravenclaw nestled between two of them. August woke with a start, accidentally slamming his elbow into Lily's stomach. As she doubled over in pain, he realised that he has no idea how they all managed to fall asleep on the couches, and floor of the Gryffindor common room. A moment of laughable happiness in his Greek tragedy. As the journey to London passes by August feels his chest tighten and the deadly dread returns; it is crawling shadows that cling to your soul and turn your eyes blank. Your body slowly numbs until, you no longer feel. It creates a hole in you that can never be filled or repaired. The idea of him returning to Darlington Manor is akin to the feeling of dying slowly, and painfully. Living and breathing is just simply a bandaid taped over a bullet wound.

August sucks in a shuddering, long breath and Sirius takes a peak at his face. He places his hand, palm up on the fabric of the seat and lets August make the decision. He stares at it for a moment, and caves, craving the warmth that only Sirius holds, intertwining their fingers and tucking them into his lap. With his other hand, he holds The Picture of Dorian Gray; Sirius' parting gift to August before they left Hogwarts that morning.

As they pull into King's Cross, August sucks in another shuddering breath and it catches in his throat, causing him to choke. Sirius' face flashes with concern-it's only them left in the compartment now. The fear, the dread and the pressure all settles onto August's shoulders. Like General Atlas with the weight of the world on his broad shoulders, August Darlington feels heavy-heavier than he ever has before. Sluggishly, he stands and Sirius quickly follows.

"Do I have to go?" August asks quietly.

"No." Sirius replies immediately. "You don't have to go."

August catches sight of Theodora's head through the glass window looking out into the station, and looks back to Sirius, shaking his head with a deep sigh.

"I have to go." He murmurs.

Sirius steps forward, pulling his hand from August's and cupping his jaw after closing the curtains over the window. He brushes a thumb across the sharp line in a tender action. Tenderness; it is not a familiar whole melody that rings like a lullaby. First: it begins with the impact-soft lips meeting his chapped ones as Sirius leans in, closing his stormy eyes just as August's fall closed. Second: he feels the burning sensation as it erupts from his toes to his chest and to his lips-August grins against Sirius' lips, and hooks one arm around his neck and the other cups Sirius' jaw just as tenderly as he holds August's. Third: the whole melody rings from his ears like a soothing lullaby, and the world turns to static; the weight falls away, and the night ends.

authors note:
woah double update!! i honestly don't know who i am anymore. it is also 3:30am so i don't know why i'm awake but also um, fun fact this signals the end of the first act!! i really hope everyone has liked august's journey so far and i'm really excited to start the next section!