A/N: A few things. First up, this fic was inspired by having the song 'Melody Dean' by Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra stuck in my head. Secondly, I don't ship James/Sirius or Lily/Sirius, and I generally don't characterise Padfoot as being quite as promiscuous as he appears to be here... this is more of an exercise in writing without thinking too hard more than anything else. Thirdly, I promise to write something decent in the future.
It's really weird, being with her. I mean, I've been after her since practically first year, and then it almost seemed like... kind of a dream, you know? Like she wasn't quite a human being, almost. But now she is. And actually right now I have complete proof because I can hear her heartbeat and - get this - I swear it's beating out your name.
Girly as fuck, right? And, oh, I don't know, completely impossible? Maybe it's one of those things, one of those sy-ko-loj-ik-ul things Remus goes on about whenever someone mentions Snivellus. What I'm trying to say is, maybe it's all in my head. I don't know. You'd have a smart answer for that one, I bet. You've never really been too good at thinking about why shit happens, you just get pissed off about it and try to do something about it.
Which is great, normally, and it's one of the things I like about you - Merlin, did I just think that, I could never say that to your face - but it wouldn't be very helpful right now.
Okay. Anyway. So. Erm. I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't one of those things-Remus-keeps-going-on-about, though. It's strange but... I want to ask her now if she and you ever... but... nah. I'm fairly certain she thinks you're an arsehole. I've been listening to her heartbeat several hundred times. She's been very nice about it, holding my hand and everything. She's got nice hands. All soft and... feminine? Not the kind of hands I'm used to, at any rate.
I'm not going to talk about what that would make me, if I preferred your Quidditch hands to her soft ones. I'm not. This isn't the time or the fucking place for it, not even in my own head. Or, for that matter, talking about what that would make me if I hear people's names in other people's heartbeats. Because I'm not either of those things.
I think you're both.
Oh for fuck's sake. Let's look at the situation again: I'm lying with my head on the soft and lovely chest - i.e. boobs - of a beautiful girl with skin that's so fair it's not fair, gorgeous red hair, and dainty little hands, one of which is holding mine. Instead of making the most out of this situation, I'm thinking about some bloke who's angry with me because... I finally got the girl I've been chasing after for six years? Seriously - I'm so glad you're not here to make a pun out of that - what is your fucking problem?
I'm not angry. Problem is, though, you're angry. I don't know why. I'm just sort of irritated. All I want is to love the one I'm with, just like that song says. Maybe seventeen's a bit young to be in love, but maybe I've already been in love. I don't know. I don't want to know.
And now you spend a lot of time with Moony and I think I know why. God, next we'll find out that Wormtail's been shagging Frank Longbottom all this time or something.
It's nice when the girl and I are together and quiet, like this. I'm not listening to her heartbeat anymore, which makes everything a lot easier for me this way. As you can imagine.
I wonder if you and Moony are like this, sometimes. I mean I know Moony's like this all the time, but I don't know if I could imagine you not getting bored and getting up and actually doing something. I wonder if I'm even right about you two. I hope not, but maybe you'll do better than we did.
Oh Merlin, I've started acting like we were in love or something. We weren't. We're still friends. We always have been ever since you got that stick out of your arse in first year. You're just a bit upset about how you think I'm negecting you in favour of spending time with my girlfriend. Which is, by the way, a bit rich coming from someone who's been known to disappear for days with the flavour of the week.
Lily's right about you you know, you can absolutely be an arsehole sometimes.
Don't think I don't know what I'm doing right now. I'm creating a mental situation - mental in more ways than one - using the following things: your silence, Lily's heartbeat, and my self-contradiction. If that sounds weird to you then try to imagine how it must be to be me, because for fuck's sake, Sirius, it's not like you're the only one who's hurt and a bit confused about this whole thing. You stupid bastard. But you're the one out of us two who wouldn't acknowledge that, because for such a smart bloke you can be a right idiot sometimes, you know that?
Merlin. I didn't realise how much I missed you. (And that's number eleven million and seventy-six of things James Potter will never, ever say to Sirius Black's face...) This is just you throwing one of your hissy fits, isn't it? You'll get over it after Moony gets tired of being our messenger and forces us to actually interact.
This is just me being an idiot about something trivial and taking things too... seriously. Pun intended.
But I'm going to marry her, you know.
Write a Review But I Get Torn to Pieces for the Stupidest Reasons: I never met a lady quite as pretty as Lily Evans.