Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Swear This One You'll Save

"Why does my loneliness matter to you?" Sirius muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. His jaw ticked, eyes narrowed in an accusatory glare.

"Because I refuse to let one of God's finer creations go to waste," Benjy declared.

He stubbed his cigarette in a flowerpot, smoke rising from the soil in plumes. Sirius noted the familiar markings of the Stoker's Brand; it was Remus' favorite brand of cigarettes. His frown deepened, as did his already unpleasant mood. The blame could easily rest on Benjy's shoulders. He was annoying as shit, and he knew it.

"In case you haven't noticed, Benjy," Sirius groaned, "you're one of the most belligerent ulcers I've ever had the displeasure of enduring, and the chances of me ever stooping low enough to simply have a drink with you are slim to none."

Benjy smirked, "I don't give up easily, Black. I'll change your mind!"

"Uh huh." Sirius wandered down the road, disappearing under the shutter of streetlamps and moonlight.

He'd considered bumming a smoke from Benjy; his nerves were on fire that night in December. However, his pride got the best of him. He'd prefer to stay antsy and on his toes rather than subtly communicate an inkling of civility toward that parasite of a human being.

Winter had been dreadful so far, as was every winter in Britain. The days were dank and miserable, slush crashing down rather than delicate snowflakes. The skies were dark and brooding; a thick layer of gray, misty clouds shrouded the cities and countryside's. It had been weeks since he'd seen the sun, and he was growing hostile in her absenteeism. The summer air had already grown to be a part of his distant memories, melting into the backdrop of more pleasant times. It pained him to even think about it.

Benjy approached carefully, just glancing out of the corner of his eyes at Sirius.

"Yes, Benjy?" Sirius snapped, not particularly enjoying the staring.

Benjy ruffled at his tone, "Nothing. I've just... I've never seen you like this, s'all."

This piqued Sirius' interest. "Like what?"

"I don't know," Benjy shrugged. "Indifferent."

Sirius laughed, "I can assure you, I've never been the happiest pea in the pod."

"I didn't say happy or sad, Black," Benjy clarified. "I said indifferent. Indifferent to the world, to your friends. To this war."

Sirius' face twisted from amused to bewilderment. "What does that mean?"

"When Remus was around, you know, you were more passionate about the things you were fighting for," said Benjy. "Now, it just seems like something you have to do rather than something you want to do."

"It is something I have to do, Fenwick," Sirius snapped. "Without the Order, half of London would probably be dead."

Benjy looked forward, mouth twitching – unspoken words begging to leave his tongue.

Sirius regarded this war as he would any other – tragic. Lives had been lost. Lives he valued, however cruel or distant they might have been. It had cost him relationships, friendships, and his home. It had cost the bond between himself and the Potter's, between him and Minnie. It had appeared that Sirius had lost nearly everything for the sake of this raging war, and it was unfair. Forgive him for being bitter about his losses; for the majority of his life, he'd gone without much to make him happy, and after years of working his arse off to hold some things dear, it was snatched away from him in the blink of an eye. Yet, his disdain for this war was selfish?

"You're not the only person affected by all of this," Benjy finally said. "We've all lost something... someone."

"I don't assume that I am."