Light Up, Light Up

by leaffymomo

Note: Song is "Run," by Snow Patrol. Reviews are greatly appreciated; you are all sublime.

Then we really have to go.

You've been the only thing that's right

In all I've done.

Sirius never believed in fate or irony. It was too set in stone for a man of his windy nature, blowing through life like a rogue breeze with no answers and no questions. Free. Wild. Untamed and unfettered. Romantic, yes, he supposed it was, and that carefree nature of his is what drew people to him. They wanted a taste of the free furling whirling dance that was Sirius' personality. Flight. That's what they wanted. Flight.

And I can barely look at you

But every single time I do

I know we'll make it any where

Away from here

Andromeda never wanted flight. She was too practical for that sort of nonsense. Andromeda, a tree of a girl with bark-brown hair and dirt-black eyes. Upright, swaying gently in the wind to the sounds of tiny vines that bound her down, tickling slowly up her trunk until they had covered her without noticing. And she changed with the seasons. Andromeda-in-Autumn: Sweet, compassionate, with hands outstretched to catch every falling leaf. Andromeda-in-Spring: Clever, so clever, and always, always thinking. Andromeda-in-Summer: Laughing, bare-armed and pink-cheeked. Andromeda-in-Winter: Stark, cold, afraid, and without a face. She changed with the seasons, Andromeda.

Light up, light up

As if you have a choice

Even if you can not hear my voice

I'll be right beside you dear

The change that overtook them both when Sirius disowned his parents and cursed the Black family. Cygnus stomping up the stairs and breaking fragile beakers and vials in his office; Druella, her lips permanently pursed; Bellatrix cursing and growling; Narcissa rolling her eyes; Andromeda, wishing, wishing, wishing so hard she could be as brave.

Louder, Louder

And we'll run for our lives

I can hardly speak I understand

Why you can't raise your voice to say

Sirius knows Andromeda loves too much. It's why she can never be him, senselessly ripping himself away from the storm of the house of Black. He's the wind, he remembers, floating far away without a care. And she's the tree, with no hope of walking but only growing higher, high enough to touch clouds. He doesn't understand why she doesn't denounce her wicked father and her detached mother who obviously bear no love for her.

But he knows she loves Bellatrix and Narcissa.

"Let them go," he says quietly when they meet outside a pub on a shabby night.

Andromeda only shakes her head.

She's his cousin, the only one in the Black family he can still bear to talk to. He reaches out to embrace her, and she pulls away, her eyes dark and dry of tears.

To think I might not see those eyes

Makes it so hard not to cry

And as we say our long goodbyes

I nearly do

Sirius expected Andromeda to stay within the cold ranks of her sisters. Sirius expected Andromeda to be quiet when her father lashed out at her in rage. Sirius expected Andromeda to take the form of a fox, the wily creature with barely a tooth and claw but cunning, yes, quite cunning. Sirius expected Andromeda to be a bridesmaid at Lucius and Narcissa's wedding. Sirius expected Andromeda to close her eyes to her family's deep obsession with the Dark Arts. Sirius expected Andromeda to be the observer, the quiet one, the one who watched instead of taking part in her life's play.

But Sirius did not expect this.

Slower, slower

We don't have time for that

All I want's to find an easier way

To get out of our little heads

Andromeda lost everything. Her roots were stripped, her bark ripped from her limbs, her leaves tousled and fallen, her branches ragged. That horrible feeling. Andromeda had never screamed before an owl came to her window with a sharp tap. Opening the letter. Reading Ted Tonks, Ted Tonks was killed, yes, killed by a Death-Eater at a quarter past one this night. He died like a hero. Be proud, little Andromeda.

Nothing left of the tree but dead wood.

Have heart, my dear

We're bound to be afraid

Even if its just for a few days

Making up for all this mess

And Sirius is staring at the little match book in his hand. Staring at Andromeda on the roof of the Black manor. Staring at Andromeda, standing next to him, covered in a strange mix of oil and petroleum.

Light up, light up…

"Sirius, please," she says, not begging, not begging at all. Her voice is cold and sweet, the same Andromeda voice she's used for ages. He can't tell what season she's in.

As if you have a choice

Sirius has never believed in fate or irony. He's too much of a rugged breeze for that, too much of a rogue wind, blowing down buildings and spreading fire. Her skin is an odd, greasy sheen, looking at her; he realizes she has never looked more serene.

Even if you can not hear my voice

Andromeda has never wanted flight. She's too much of a tree, held fast into the ground. She cannot move, and will never move again. Trees are ageless, and Andromeda has lived much too long in muddy, black, sooty ground.

I'll be right beside you dear

Sirius lights the match.

Light up, light up…

And the seasons change.