I had Sirry art muse, but wrote something instead. Go figure.
#24. Choices for slash100
Sirius/Harry (sorta), G, 276 words not betaed, be afraid.
When will you come back?
Harry didn't voice it, afraid of shattering the delicate hold he had over the Veil. It whirled and writhed against his magic, insolent and too proud. Harry disregarded it.
I'm not. Sirius answered, though Harry doubted it was really Sirius. He didn't care. Illusions or not, he only wanted to believe that he was in there, somewhere. That Sirius was waiting, eyes dancing with mirth and his smile, sad, permanently glued to his lips. Sirius was waiting.
Can I come around? Harry was not hopeful; he didn't have that luxury to be so naive anymore.
It's not your time, yet. Sirius whispered. His voice trailed off, achy regret shown bright and overwhelming.
Harry pushed at the veil, commanding it to reveal just a bit more of Sirius. He needed to see his face to believe. It didn't relent.
I'm only here because I'm breathing, not because I'm living. Harry protested, feeling a bit ridiculous at voicing such a cliché saying. He could almost see Sirius teasing smile, almost heard his gentle ribbing about sentimental teenagers. Harry ignored that.
I'm coming anyway.
Oh no, you don't. Sirius said, exasperatedly, affectionately, and with many other emotions coated and squeezed into that small sentence. Harry ignored that too.
I can't let you go.
Then Sirius sighed, sounding defeated. And Harry smiled.
"I'm coming back," Harry said, aloud. "After Voldemort, I'm coming back."
Backing away a few steps, Harry hesitated only briefly before turning away. Each step was painful, but it brought him nearer to Sirius.
And so it was with bright smile that Harry run away from the Veil and back to his friends.
Y'know, I think taking a break from HP does something good to my muse. Crappy works or not, I hadn't been this productive for quite a while.