~ROAC~ (incomplete)

"And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me.
Shine until tomorrow, let it be."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Just... go ahead whenever you're ready, Angel."

James gave a soft sigh. Any other time, he'd be grinning at how Bell was curled up in Sirius' lap, letting him stroke her brown hair in a comforting manner, but today, James just didn't have it in him. Bell had barely spoken to him- to anyone, for that matter -in the last day and a half. Even the merry moods of Persephone and Remus at their blossoming relationship were dampened by their friend's low spirits. Not that they blamed her, of course, they only felt bad for her loss. Speaking of... that was exactly what the three of them had to discuss now. James wasn't sure where to start. He knew it was necessary that they did speak, and that Bell be helped through her grief, but still, what does one say to a girl who's just become an orphan?

An orphan. James hadn't thought about it like that before, and he gave a visible start. He'd known for a long while that Bell's mum was dead, but he hadn't considered that her father's death would leave her... alone. No. Not alone. She still had her sister. Joan, no, Joanne, that was her name, and Joanne's partner. Both were adults. They would take care of Bell. And so would James. And Sirius. And Lily, and Marlene, and all the rest of their friends, of course. Because that's what friends did. Lift each other up, even if they couldn't ever really know the other's grief.

It took her a good few minutes of thinking, but when Bell was, in fact, ready, she spoke in a low voice, not quite monotone, but almost. "I wasn't that friendly to him, lately." Her eyes were closed and Sirius was looking down at her with a gaze that would have been tranquil were it not for the furrow of his brow. Bell took a deep breath. "He was... he had issues. With drinking."

James frowned. Sirius glanced up, his own expression tightening up, almost in anger. James could tell why. He too was frustrated at Bell's father, though he knew it wasn't much fair. An alcoholic, the man was, James had known that for some time (why Bell rarely touched any alcohol except for butterbeer), and he'd always thought Bell didn't deserve a father like that. And that he didn't deserve a daughter like her. So forgiving, despite her qualms of his addiction. A part of him knew the man didn't mean to be taken by the drink, and that he likely wasn't deserving of it either, but his sympathy at the moment only extended to the girl sitting on the bed beside his, looking so small in Sirius' lap, her hazel eyes still closed to the world.

"But when I was a kid, he and I were pretty close. We'd go out and see the football teams from the public schools practicing. I used to like the sport then. It's a Muggle one. You kick around a ball into a net- it probably explains why I like Quidditch, they're pretty similar." A slight smile came onto Bell's face. James' own lips quirked up, not because of the sport he hadn't a clue about, but because she was finally managing to give a real smile again. She was healing.

"I don't think he meant to start drinking so much. At first, he hid it. Jo- Joanne -and I would find flasks stashed in the laundry baskets, on the top shelf of the pantry, which I couldn't reach yet but Jo could. At first, I didn't worry much. Jo did. She said he should stop. She told him to his face to keep all that alcohol out of the house. He ignored her. Then I started finding the bottles." Bell swallowed, like it was hard for her to go on, and Sirius' arm came around her waist to hold her hand. James smiled softly at how she gently squeezed his hand in thanks before continuing. "They were bigger than the flasks, by a lot. And the only reason Jo didn't see was that she never went down into the basement. I did a lot, when I was cleaning out my room, redecorating one summer. Bringing boxes down of my kid stuff. I was thirteen."