15"Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well." – George R.R. Martin
Sirius Black falls a little bit in love with Marlene McKinnon the first time he sees her dance.
They're eleven years old, and he's not quite sure what this unfamiliar feeling is, but he knows he likes it. He's just received another Howler from his parents for being Sorted into Gryffindor, and he thinks that nothing can lift the clouds over his head, the perfect companions to those that hang in the sky.
"It's raining!" One of the other first-years squeals excitedly. She jumps up, forgetting about her food, and runs outside, dark curls bouncing against her shoulders. Curious in spite of himself, Sirius follows her.
She practically skips down the steps and lands in a puddle with an unceremonious splash, barely retaining her balance, but she is unperturbed. She closes her eyes and tilts her head up to the sky, smiling at the heavens she cannot see.
After a moment or so, she starts spinning, first in one direction, then the other. Initially she wraps her arms protectively around herself, before spreading them wide, as though she sheds a little bit of fear with every revolution.
There's an air of childishness about her. She's eleven years old, but as she twirls, she's also every age she's ever been – a toddler ready to explore, a little girl with vulnerabilities and weaknesses existing alongside a warrior who believes herself invincible. Childhood is something Sirius never really had, and he finds himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame – afraid of being burnt, yet unable to tear himself away.
When she comes inside, she's soaking wet and shivering violently. McGonagall gives her a week of detentions without preamble, and even though she's got no reason to, she's still smiling.
(She shows him that you don't need a reason to feel the way you do. You just do.)
Four years later, he finally approaches her after watching her dance for what seems like the millionth time.
"Why do you do it?"
She doesn't have to ask what he's referring to; she's seen him observing her, this time at least. "I can't really explain it properly," she tells him honestly. "It's like…you know how sometimes life feels so hard and heavy and dark? When I dance in the rain, it feels cleansing, purifying. As if the rain washes all the bad stuff away, and I can be free, even if it's only for a moment."
He can't answer her, because he does know what she means, he knows exactly what she means, only admitting it feels somehow shameful. So rather than give her a proper response, he shakes his head in wonder.
"You are some sort of angel," he tells her, and then he turns around and walks away before he adds something stupid like "and I think I might be falling in love with you."
(It'd be a lie, though. He'd fallen in love with her long ago, now he's waiting for her to catch him.)
"Sirius!" She hisses, half confused, half amused, "What - where are we going?"
He presses a finger to his lips and smiles at her mischievously, leading her through the corridors like they're not doing anything wrong, like he's not afraid of being caught. (He's not; he's far too familiar with midnight wanderings for that.)
"I thought you needed a break from all that studying. My brain feels like it's going to explode just watching you."
"It's called hard work and dedication; you might like to try it sometime."
"Nah, I think I'm good."
She rolls her eyes at him "Of course you'd say that. Now, I know you think I need a break from studying, but how exactly is standing outside in the middle of the night going to help with that?"
He shrugs, and then says uncomfortably, "I haven't seen you dance in a while."
"What?" She's taken aback; this is not what she was expecting.
"You used to dance in the rain, by yourself. You always looked so happy…"
"I haven't felt like dancing lately. And besides, it's not raining."
"It will," he says confidently, and even as he speaks, a few droplets fall. He watches her expectantly.
"I'm not going to dance in front of you! But… I might dance with you?"
"Oh, no. Absolutely no way!" He backs away from her with his arms outstretched defensively, but she matches him step for step, grabs his hands and tugs.
"Come on Sirius," she pleads, and he relents, allowing her to spin him around with her until they tumble to the ground in a breathless, messy heap.
"I see what you mean," he tells her as the dark clouds continue to rain down on them. "It really does feel sort of liberating."
"It's magical," she says. "It's not something that can be crafted with a potion or a wand or anything else. It's a miracle."
(But Sirius has only ever seen one miracle, and she's sitting right beside him.)
They never actually date – Sirius despises commitment, and they're both aware, without having voiced it, that theirs is a bond that transcends labels like that. However, a sense of trepidation dawns on Sirius as their graduation approaches, and he makes an extra effort to make sure she knows how much she means to him.
"You make me feel like summer will be forever, like winter will never come again. Okay, that sounds really soppy and ridiculously romantic, but I hope you get my drift…"
She sighs heavily and says, "Everything has to end, Sirius."
"Even you and me?"
"Don't ask questions like that, no one can predict the future." She's never believed in Divination, and Sirius loves that about her too, her conviction that what happens next hasn't already been written, that they've got some sort of say in how their lives turn out.
So instead of asking anymore questions, he kisses her softly and tries to hold onto the moment, to pretend that they are in a fairy tale, that the rain will wash away their sins and give them an eternity together.
She's killed a few months before James and Lily, murdered along with her parents by a group of Death Eaters, just for being a member of the Order. Sirius is a mess when he finds out, ready to seek revenge on anyone and everyone who might be responsible for taking her away. He's seized with recklessness, longing to strike out on his own, heedless of the consequences, and it is only Remus' voice of reason that holds him back.
Remus, who reminds him that Marlene would not condone him risking his life, however noble his cause might seem, that she always saw the best in him, and he can honour her memory by showing it now.
It's not easy, but he exists, survives, and goes on, without her.
(Living, no, he doesn't do that. She showed him what it meant to be alive – he forgets when she's not there to remind him.)
Her loss carves a hole in his heart that nothing can ever fill. She'll live on only in his memory, in every drop of rain he ever sees, every slightly broken smile. Try as he might, Sirius will never be able to forget Marlene McKinnon, the tragic blue-eyed beauty who taught him the magic of rain.
Written for:
The All Sorts of Love Competition: Non-Canon Love
XPerfectlyImperfect's Perfectly Challenging Competition