#prongsfoot microfic harsh

[lostwriter--xx3]

Prongsfoot Microfic || Fire

@prongsfoot-microfic

There was a fire burning. The house curled up into smoke. James stood on the smouldering grass, the warmth of the fire licking his face like an eager dog. Dozens of portraits screamed between the crackling of aged oak and wood. Grimmauld Place was afire.

Harry was wailing in his arms, his voice drowned in the noisy fire. James readjusted Harry in his arms, sheltering his little nose from the smoke. Soon, the Aurors would be there. They would take him away. They would take Harry from him. Forever. They would call him an arsonist, a madman…maybe a sodomist to boot. But it had to be done. 

There was a distant of whirring brooms. The flames kissed at his feet. The wind blew towards him, throwing the windy embers into him like an urgent lover. He could feel the smoke holding him close. For a moment, he had a wild desire to put Harry away from the fire and jump into the burning wreck of the house. It was almost gone. Two stories were down and the front wall had completely charred away. He could see the interior of the hall. The house was going down, and he would go down with it. But then, the Aurors arrived. He could hear them yell. They would never get through the enchantments, the wards. The Muggle police had already been called, and were utterly perplexed at the rotting smoke and heat with no visible source. The Aurors would know better. 

James undid the wards. People swarmed in, they spoke to him. They took away Harry. Lily came, crying. Someone put handcuffs on him. James meekly offered his hands to the man. He vaguely tried to count his charges. Arson. Indiscretion. Attempted murder of the Blacks, maybe? He really couldn’t care. He was about to walk away, until a sound arrested his attention. One of the portraits, yelling.

James kicked the man holding him and ran at the wreck. The fire was being put out, but it wouldn’t quench. Aurors tried to stop him, hex him. Lily was screaming, being restrained. James didn’t see or hear. He only heard a high scream from a burning plank of wood.

“Had you screamed? Was this how?” , he numbly thought.

When the Aurors reached him, James had kneeled down in the burning logs. His robes were afire, his skin was blistered, his hand smouldered as he clutched a burning portrait of Sirius to his chest. He was kissing the burning canvas.

The Aurors drenched him in water. “Mad”, some muttered. “Homosexual”, some whispered. Lily only cried. As they dragged James away, burnt, drenched and broken, he had only one thought. Why, oh why had he asked Sirius to watch Harry that Halloween?

[lemongrass77777-moved]

Prompt: February 29th - Hold

For @prongsfoot-microfic

Wordcount: 384

********************************************************************

Sirius tiptoed across the freezing dormitory toward James’ bed. He’d had nightmare that had felt horridly real. He felt as if he’d bore through a grim, dark, never ending winter.

"James, are you awake?"

"Yeah, Come on in here," James mumbled, opening the curtains of his four-poster. He was lying on his stomach. Sirius shoved him aside to he could get in. They curled up together, James’ well built arms holding Sirius’ frigid body. Flowers flowered in his chest, as if spring had finally come, and his florets were free to bloom, after that harsh, hibernal season.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah, James?"

"There a reason you’re here tonight, or?"

"I just…had a bad dream."

"Do you wanna tell me what it was about?"

Sirius thought about it for a moment.

"I dreamt that I was forced to go back to Grimmauld place…To my mother. She kept calling me awful names. I think you were there too? It had to have been you, but you looked a bit different, you had a nasty scar on your face and your eyes were a different color. You seemed worried. 

I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, it was like I was in a prison, and the walls were closing in one me. I think part of me died there. But then I was in a dark room? Bellatrix was dueling me, I fell backwards and I couldn’t see anything and it was cold. I heard someone screaming my name. It was horrible scream, the kind you make when you’re in deep sorrow.”

James stood silent.

“It’s fine, it was just a dream, you know I get nightmares all the time,” Sirius added.

“I do know, I just hate that this happens to you so often—Maybe we could brew a vat of dreamless potion for you.”

“Good idea, Prongs.”

James moved his hand to twirl Sirius’ hair.

“I’d never let that happen to you, not even if I was cold, and dead, and gone. You’re never going back to Grimmauld Place.”

As James peppered soft kisses on his neck, Sirius decided to let himself believe that, at least for the moment; even if he knew it couldn’t be true, even if he knew in his heart of hearts he didn’t dream ordinary dreams, he had to believe.

[forestdeath1]

Hello!

Writer. Mostly the Marauders (Prongsfoot | Wolfstar | Jilypad) and the Blacks. Canon Sirius Black defender. Sometimes I write about Tom Riddle, Sirius/Bella, Snape, etc. 18+.

For now, you can read my microfics:

Sour | Hopelessness | Exploit | Poet | Icarus | Disuse |

The Marauders meta:

Canon Sirius through quotes:

Part 1. Appearance

Part 2. Intelligence and recklessness

Part 3. Harshness

Part 4. Care

Regulus wasn't forced by his parents to join the Death Eaters

Two WIPs - a Sirius-centric canon-compliant wolfstar/prongsfoot from 1975-1981 and an Alphard Black-centric from 1938-1947. Each is half-finished, and as soon as I complete them, I'll start posting (within the year?)

About me:

Slytherin, ☉ Aries, ☽ Scorpio. 🌈 The most important information, right

I do not support JKR.

[jmagnabo92]

PM - 220 - October 6 - Blow

@prongsfoot-microfic

After another rejection by Evans, Sirius (in trying to cheer up James) tells him he's a treasure which leads to revelations.

AO3

***

“I know this is a harsh blow to your ego right now, Prongs, but believe me, she’s not worth it,” Sirius says, trying and failing to be the support he should be to James after the public embarrassment that was Evans’ rejection of him. 

It’s just that it’s hard not to be happy that she’s literally never going to give him the time of day because it means he might still have a shot (although, admittedly, he probably doesn’t). 

“You don’t know that she isn’t,” James groans, face in his pillow.

“I do because anyone who doesn’t get what a treasure you are, doesn’t deserve you and aren’t worth the trouble.”

“You think I’m a treasure?” James asks, lifting his head to look at Sirius.

“Of course you are – you’re James Potter.”

The look James is giving him makes him squirm a little.  He’s not sure why he’s finally feeling seen, but he is, and it makes him falter in his confidence.

James sits up slowly.  “I think you’re a treasure, too.”

“Er – thanks.  That’s not a blow to my ego,” Sirius says, grinning, trying to laugh it off, but it makes him flush.  The way that he said it, the way he’s looking at him has Sirius all hot under the collar.  “Quite a way to build me up.”

James hums.  “In fact, you’re probably the biggest treasure I could ever find.”

“Uh-huh, that’s … a nice sentiment, which would feel better if you weren’t just complaining about being rejected by Evans.”

“No, you – you don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“I never thought – that you – but you do, don’t you?”

James isn’t making any sense, and he can obviously tell that Sirius is confused because after a few seconds, he gets up, grabs his face, and kisses him, passionately.

It’s nice and soft and not at all what Sirius had been expecting, but he can get with this.  He kisses back, letting his hands wind in James’ hair, deepening the kiss. 

It takes several seconds before they break apart, and Sirius is feeling even more confused.  “What about Evans and the blow to your ego?”

“I was just… it sucks to be rejected but I was going through the motions.  Kind of figured that I had no shot with you so…” James trails off, and searches his eyes before saying, “But I do right?  Have a chance with you.”

Sirius nods.  “Yes, yes, you do.”

“Good.”

With that, James doesn’t wait for more to be discussed, choosing instead to snog Sirius senseless, and Sirius definitely wouldn’t be complaining any time soon.

He’s finally gotten everything he’s ever wanted.

It’s perfect.

[roalinda]

contribution to @prongsfoot-microfic

March 17 ( prey ) + April 11 ( presence )

Yes, yes, it is still March and April. Don't look at me like that. 💀🙈

****

The dog barked and the rat ran. 

It was a chase, frightening and deadly. It was filled with rage and grief, with hysteria and regret. The moon was bleeding an eerie crimson and the stars were burning bright, the Canis Major ominously ablaze, leading the feral dog on for it was Halloween, a perfect night to let the monsters loose, a perfect night to hunt. 

Tonight was the blood moon after all.

The streets were silent and the alleyways were dirty, filled with rotten trash and putrid smell. An ideal place for a disgusting rat to hide, to run away from the black curse that was pursuing him, not that the dog would let him get away. 

 No one could escape the Grim when the grave and the shovel were ready.

Crows cawed in the darkness as the dog jumped forward fast and furious, catching the rat between his strong canine teeth and the rat struggled between his jaws pathetically, trying to escape yet again. The dog growled, ferocious and wild before disappearing only for a second and a raging young man to appear, squeezing the rat brutally in a firm hold.

"Change." His voice was pitiless and savage, nothing but steel in his eyes. 

The rat struggled more but changed at last, unwilling and terrified. The moment he was human again his skull was crushed into the wall mercilessly. The impact was hard and heavy and he distantly heard a crack in his skull as his vision swam. 

"Peter…little Peter…" the young man sing-songed, madness shining in his eyes. 

Peter shuddered, not from the chill of the night but from fear. He had forgotten how dangerous Sirius Black was, mostly because he himself was never in danger. 

"S…Sirius…my friend…please…James…" he whimpered pathetically under Sirius' harsh grip and Sirius growled, burning with unhinged wrath before punching him with all his might, causing the rat to fall down, losing a tooth as blood and salt exploded in his mouth.

"Silence, you vile creature. Never speak his name again," Sirius snarled and trampled on Peter's hand, heavy boots crushing the bones ruthlessly.

Peter screamed and Sirius smiled, white teeth shining between his normally rouged lips, now colourless and chapped. 

"Does it hurt?" He asked softly.

"Yes…yes…" Peter cried in misery. "I didn't want to sell James…I swear…"

"Didn't I tell you not to speak his name?" whispered Sirius and narrowed his eyes. "I guess you are too stupid to understand." 

He took out his wand and for one happy moment Peter thought that it was nothing but a simple silencing charm. Oh, how wrong he was. It was pure agony as the charm hit him, burning against his tongue like acid. It was like a hundred niddles and knives were in his mouth, cutting hrough the flesh, slicing his tongue.

More blood bubbled in his mouth and he struggled to breath, windpipe nearly crushed with no air. There was something slimy in mouth and his eyes widened in horror as he spat it out.

It was his tongue.

Sirius had just cut his tongue. 

At that moment Peter understood the meaning of the Black madness, the curse that ran in their blood, the darkness that even the Dark Lord could not match if provoked.

He had crossed the red line the moment he had sold James. For a second, one disgusting second he had felt triumphant. He was no longer the pathetic Gryffindor who tagged along his much cooler friends. He was brave enough to betray them and bury their memories along with their dead bodies.

But in the middle of it all, he had forgotten something, James Potter had always been Sirius Black's red line who was insane enough to even take on the Dark Lord for him.

Sirius' smile was sick and gleeful as looked at his handiwork. "Way better," he nodded to himself and hummed, an old love song that James used to sing while braiding his hair, kissing the thick strands now and then. 

Peter bit his lips and heaved. The way Sirius was smiling was ugly on his handsome face. He looked like a defeated king without a crown, without a throne, without a queen because James was his world. 

A defeated king yet vengeful one. Kings shall not fall by a mere servant's hand and Sirius was going to make sure of that. 

"Do you know who James Potter was?" Sirius said, voice sharp and cold, a dead march for a soon to be a dead man. 

"He was my best friend, my only family. He was my lover, a beloved above all. But in reality? He was my home," he grabbed Peter's hair harshly and stared into his terrified eyes. 

"I have always been a selfish arrogant bastard, you know it better than anyone."

Peter shook his head mutely, remembering many things, watching his life through the movie projector of his mind. He remembered James' cheerful laughter as Sirius tackled him to the ground and tickled him mercilessly to steal his chocolate frogs, Sirius sitting on James' lap shamelessly beside the Gryffindor fire, their hushed moans behind the curtains and swollen lips the morning after. 

He remembered discussing the morality of the unforgivable curses one day, now life times ago.

"For Sirius I will use Avada Kedavra with no hesitation."

"For James I will use Avada Kedavra with no hesitation." 

They both had said at the same time, serious and calm, knowing that one would go insane without the other, no doubt. 

"Good bye, filth," said Sirius and aimed his wand straight with no pity. 

At his last moment, Peter saw James beside Sirius, grabbing the wand together with him. Peter was not surprised. Their wands' core were entangled like their masters' hearts. 

Sirius laughed and James smirked. They were the cruelest when they wanted, enjoying their victim's pain with no remorse. How could have Peter forgotten that? 

"Avada Kedavra," they chanted together and laughed merrily as Peter hit the ground. 

[strwbi-laces]

Prompt: calm - contains mcd

@prongsfoot-microfic

Word count: 86

Their friendship was loud. Shouts across classrooms, pranks in the great hall, harsh words thrown together.

Their love was calm. Fingers carding through silky hair, promises whispered under covers and tears dutifully kissed away.

His death was loud. A sickening thud when the body hit the floor, shattered windows and the wind howling through an empty house.

His grief was calm. Prayers to all the gods murmured under breath, futile scratches at the bars of his cell and no one left to kiss his tears.

[lostwriter--xx3]

3rd January, 2024...harsh

@prongsfoot-microfic

...

No dreary is as dreary as dreary weather. No weather is as dreary as an overcast sky.

Chill, chill, chill. Sirius Black felt the chill deep in his bones. The blackened kettle boiled, a thin hiss of steam rounding the empty kitchen. The ragged man heaved the kettle and poured himself a generous serve of tea — no sugar. Cheap habits suit a dodged man.

A bit of the sky overlooked the long windows , shadowing the tattered carpets. The solitary companion of the battered room leant back on one of the moth-eaten couches by one of the broken windows.

The cup warmed his knuckled hands, steaming the January air. It was cold, too cold.

Perihelion, Sirius remembered. It is Perihelion. He couldn't recall if it had anything to do with the cold, but he remembered the word. Perihelion. How painstakingly he had studied the skies. All the dreams of astronomy.

All the dreams. Suddenly, Sirius felt acutely aware of the cup he held in his hands. He had picked up the chipped, discoloured cup with no distinction...but he saw a resemblance now.

He turned the cup around. Where his palm had rested, there was a small indent. There were small letters etched amidst the patches of blue dotted with white.

To Sirius Obnoxious Black, my best friend

Astronomy craft fair, 3rd January, 7th Year. He swallowed, looking away. Was the sky darker or was it the spotty window pane? There, the sun was dipping. It would be night soon. Another night. Another dreamless sleep.

Routine, routine—one he never dreamt of.

He sighed. I love you so damn much. He raised the cup to his lips, and stopped. I hate that so damn much.

He felt ugly, and he was. Would James like him as he was now? See me now, golden boy. Would you still be here? Would you help? Of course not, I never helped you either. If I ever had, it all went down the drain on—

He drained the steaming cup. When he put it down, his nose had fogged up. If he had known, would Harry be introducing him as his Godfather now? Or as his uncle? He rubbed his knuckles across his dampened nose, lowered the cup to his knee.

Snow fell akin to chilled glitter by his side, against the window. Maybe, he couldn't tell. But it had been a snowy, dreary sky all day.

He looked down into the watery dregs of the tea, eyes unfocused and subtly teary.

"You're too harsh on me", he said, his voice like the echo of an empty cup.

....

Thoughts??? Pls??? Encouragement???

Also ik no one is going to critically analyse this so I'm just gonna analyse it for you cause boy I put way too much thought into this.

It's by the Harsh prompt. And the harsh here is subtle. Atleast I tried to make it subtle lol idk if it was. Harsh is what is echoed throught this wall of text. Harsh weather, harsh cold, harsh house, harsh thoughts. It's supposed to be the undertone.

Anyways, the ending is ambiguous and up for interpretation. He is looking into the dregs of the tea, so one can assume that he is staring at his reflection in the cup and he is referring to himself and acknowledging his harmful thought processes. His eyes are unfocused so you can also reason that he is staring at the cup and referring to James, feel free to interpret why he thinks he was harsh. Or he might just be accusing the world in general and vocalising his situation and emotion

Well lol that's it pls tell me what you think of this and what your interpretation is (sorry for the literary ramble)

[jmagnabo92]

PM - 184 - August 31 - Protection

@prongsfoot-microfic

Lily's response to James' offer of protection is a harsh refusal, at least Sirius is there to support him.

AO3

***

“I don’t need your protection,” Evans yells. 

She’s got that furious look in her eyes that Sirius has come to loathe over the years.  Partially because it’s almost always aimed at James rather than at Snape or someone that deserves it, but also because it feels deeply unfair.  Given that he and James both do their best to defend and protect all muggleborns, Evans acting like she’s special or too good for it bothers him.

He's especially bothered when James looks like he’d been slapped because she doesn’t stop with ‘not needing his protection’, she goes on to really hit him where it hurts, mocking him in ways that suggest that he’s no better than wannabe death eaters. 

Sirius could see James barely struggling to hide the pain her words cause, and knowing that he wouldn’t want the likes of the wannabes all around them to see him fall, he says, “You know what, Evans?  You’re right, you clearly don’t need James, so why don’t you run along after your wannabe death eater friend and leave us alone.”

He doesn’t wait for a response as he leads James away to a safe space away form prying eyes.  Once they’re alone, Sirius pulls him into a hug. 

“You alright?”

James sighs.  “I just want to help.”

“I know, but she’s made her point clear – she doesn’t want your protection.”

“Given her associations, she needs the protection the most.”

Sirius shrugs.  “Well, she’ll have to deal with that when the times comes.  But for us…”

“… we’ll – I – will back off.”

“At least you’ve got me.”

James grins.  “And I’m so glad to have you.”

“Good.”

[roalinda]

For @prongsfoot-microfic

8. View

Lily was dead and the nursery was still a mess. 

Sirius wanted to put the blame on Voldemort's attack, but that would be nothing but a pathetic excuse for James' tendency to escape the reality and grief. He knew that James felt responsible for the tragedy that had happened, mourning and absolutely mortified, cursing himself for their rendezvous on Halloween night. Guilt was a painful thing, it could be back-breaking and Sirius' heart clenched with sadness. He always hated to see James in pain. 

He took off his boots and entered the nursery with soft steps, looking around to find any sign of change. There was none, minus James who was sitting in the middle of the room, on the blue baby rug, looking lost while trying to gather Harry's shattered toys into a toy box. They were scattered around the room along with a pile of safety cushions which Lily had charmed into soft colorful stags, now only a painful reminder of her death.

"What are you doing here?" James didn't look up but Sirius could tell he was drained. 

"What does it look like?" Sirius' answer was soft. He sat beside James and ran a tender hand through his hair. It was messier than usual. He should brush it for James, later.

"It looks like you don't understand the meaning of privacy. This is where she was killed." replied James, with no real venom in his voice as he leaned into the touch. 

"That's what it looks like to you. To me it looks like you need help with it." shrugged Sirius and James hummed, melting into him. His was mentally exhausted, it was obvious. 

Sirius remained motionless for a long time, listening to James' heartbeat. It was calming, reassuring Sirius that his lover was alive and well, although mourning. 

"I know it is hard, love. I know you blame yourself, but you need to be strong." the words were cliched but they were the truth. "I will help you to carry the burden, don't worry." 

"Sirius, did I make a mistake by marrying her? She could be alive," James looked down at his chewed nails. He hadn't been successful in quitting his childhood habit. Whenever he was overwhelmed, he chewed on his nails relentlessly.

Sirius remained silent and James pursed his lips. "Lily knew that you were the only one I was in love with…but I was selfish…I hurt her…and you as well. Now look at me…a dead wife, a motherless child and shattering guilt are all I have."

Sirius took a deep breath. The rarity of the situation was a delicate matter to handle. Insecurity was not a part of James' character, so dealing with it was hard. It required Sirius' brutal honesty because unlike the most James didn't need flowery language to be assured, he needed the truth, no matter how harsh. It would help James' toxic feelings to explode out of him. 

"This is war, James. Yesterday was Lily, tomorrow might be me." said Sirius and waited for the wrathful outburst that was about to come. 

His eyes went wide as James suddenly pushed him to the ground and leaped on his chest, his breaths laboured and eyes wild behind the glasses. He grabbed Sirius by collar harshly, expression darkening with unhinged rage. "Shut up, Black. Shut up. Shut up or I will throttle you with my bare hands to shut you up." 

Sirius blinked at him in shock, lying motionlessly there, waiting for the storm to pass. James' pupils were dilated and his teeth were bared, like a caged animal whose mate was going to be taken away from him. Sirius had never witnessed such derangement in his lover, so terrifying yet beautiful. It was quite a view. 

"Shut up…shut up…shut the fuck up…" James was openly crying now, hitting Sirius softly on the chest with his fists. "do you want me to go insane?" 

"Come here, deer." was all Sirius whispered, the old endearment term somehow comforting his lover. James snuggled up on his chest, shaking with silent sobs. Sirius didn't blame him. This was the first time he had cried since Lily's funeral. 

"Promise me you won't die?"

The childish request hurt Sirius since both of them knew that it was impossible.

"I won't. Not as long as I have you here to welcome me." he whispered and James sighed in contentment although he knew this was nothing but an already broken vow. 

But for now it was enough. 

[roalinda]

prongsfoot microfic entry for April @prongsfoot-microfic

( + March 15, role )

5. Anhedonia

"Stars in the sky…."

Sirius' voice was pure velvet and satine, a mantra in minoo. James hummed along absently, but didn't look up from the letter he was writing to Lily. He was supposed to write to her every day not once a week, but Sirius' presence was like a magnet, pulling him down like a force of gravity, blinding him to everything else.

"shining upon me…"

This time James did look up from the flower he was trying to draw on the letter which looked like a messy doodle done in a puddle of mud instead of an elegant drawing with the finest ink.

His hazel eyes landed on Sirius who was rocking back and forth slowly on his favourite rocking chair as if it was a cradle, distrait eyes staring at the heavy rain outside. He had been absent for hours now, making James wonder what was going on inside his head, behind that empty silver gaze. 

He was murmuring an old lullaby, one that exclusively belonged to the House of Black, a unique nursery rhyme which he had slept and woke up to, in his childhood. To Sirius, the song was sang by a faceless stranger for he remembered nothing of them. James on the other hand, was sure Sirius had been hallucinating. There was no way Walburga Black was capable of soothing a child like that. 

"James, who am I?" Sirius stopped singing suddenly. There was a numb curiosity in his tone which lacked it's usual enthusiasm. "A Black? A Potter? Or some nameless creature?" 

"Who do you want to be, love?" James asked softly.

"A Black? No. A Potter? Maybe," whispered Sirius thoughtfully. "your parents accepted me, adopted me in their own way." 

Memories of his parents flooded into his mind and although bittersweet, they made James smile. "They loved you very much." he said before getting up from his small desk and making himself comfortable on Sirius' lap a moment later like a lazy lap cat.

Sirius ran an absent hand through his hair, eyes still distant, body lax. "But what am I to you? A regret?" There was no anger in his voice, no sadness, no blame. 

There was only a vague sense of melancholy, like the last moments of a patient on his deathbed and the disturbing silence of the flat line. 

James couldn't help but to laugh, a choked giggle that caught Sirius off guard despite his numb state. "You? You are a dagger in my heart, love. It doesn't matter if I pull it out or let it remain. I'll bleed to death either way." 

That probably sounded flowery to the most but in reality it was nothing but the brutal truth, harsh and cutting, just like Sirius himself. It was agony, relentless yet delightful, and James couldn't help but to wonder about the painful heartache whenever Sirius drifted away like this, like a wounded animal withdrawing to the darkness of his mind, unmotivated and iced. He wondered about their balance and imbalance, a broken yet strong see-saw. He wondered about Lily, of his letters to her which were getting shorter and rarer every time. 

"You're my beloved, Sirius."  He said at last, pressing his warm lips on Sirius' cold, unresponsive ones. "There's nothing about you to regret."

[rosemelodyshah]

IMMA ADD MY OWN FIC THOUGHTS TO THIS AND SAY THAT JAMES HAS FO RREASONS BEEN SEPARATED FROM SIRIUS AND OBVI THAT THE HARSHEST THING FOR SIRIUS AND THAT WHAT

I LOVE YOUR FIC SO SO MUCH

3rd January, 2024...harsh

@prongsfoot-microfic

...

No dreary is as dreary as dreary weather. No weather is as dreary as an overcast sky.

Chill, chill, chill. Sirius Black felt the chill deep in his bones. The blackened kettle boiled, a thin hiss of steam rounding the empty kitchen. The ragged man heaved the kettle and poured himself a generous serve of tea — no sugar. Cheap habits suit a dodged man.

A bit of the sky overlooked the long windows , shadowing the tattered carpets. The solitary companion of the battered room leant back on one of the moth-eaten couches by one of the broken windows.

The cup warmed his knuckled hands, steaming the January air. It was cold, too cold.

Perihelion, Sirius remembered. It is Perihelion. He couldn't recall if it had anything to do with the cold, but he remembered the word. Perihelion. How painstakingly he had studied the skies. All the dreams of astronomy.

All the dreams. Suddenly, Sirius felt acutely aware of the cup he held in his hands. He had picked up the chipped, discoloured cup with no distinction...but he saw a resemblance now.

He turned the cup around. Where his palm had rested, there was a small indent. There were small letters etched amidst the patches of blue dotted with white.

To Sirius Obnoxious Black, my best friend

Astronomy craft fair, 3rd January, 7th Year. He swallowed, looking away. Was the sky darker or was it the spotty window pane? There, the sun was dipping. It would be night soon. Another night. Another dreamless sleep.

Routine, routine—one he never dreamt of.

He sighed. I love you so damn much. He raised the cup to his lips, and stopped. I hate that so damn much.

He felt ugly, and he was. Would James like him as he was now? See me now, golden boy. Would you still be here? Would you help? Of course not, I never helped you either. If I ever had, it all went down the drain on—

He drained the steaming cup. When he put it down, his nose had fogged up. If he had known, would Harry be introducing him as his Godfather now? Or as his uncle? He rubbed his knuckles across his dampened nose, lowered the cup to his knee.

Snow fell akin to chilled glitter by his side, against the window. Maybe, he couldn't tell. But it had been a snowy, dreary sky all day.

He looked down into the watery dregs of the tea, eyes unfocused and subtly teary.

"You're too harsh on me", he said, his voice like the echo of an empty cup.

....

Thoughts??? Pls??? Encouragement???

Also ik no one is going to critically analyse this so I'm just gonna analyse it for you cause boy I put way too much thought into this.

It's by the Harsh prompt. And the harsh here is subtle. Atleast I tried to make it subtle lol idk if it was. Harsh is what is echoed throught this wall of text. Harsh weather, harsh cold, harsh house, harsh thoughts. It's supposed to be the undertone.

Anyways, the ending is ambiguous and up for interpretation. He is looking into the dregs of the tea, so one can assume that he is staring at his reflection in the cup and he is referring to himself and acknowledging his harmful thought processes. His eyes are unfocused so you can also reason that he is staring at the cup and referring to James, feel free to interpret why he thinks he was harsh. Or he might just be accusing the world in general and vocalising his situation and emotion

Well lol that's it pls tell me what you think of this and what your interpretation is (sorry for the literary ramble)