Oh, where do I start. Wait, I know. The beginning. (I'm an idiot. Sorry.)
I like the idea of Peter being the one to tell Sirius. It seems strange, you know, this guy writing him a note saying "oh yeah btw i ttly killed ur best mate", but there's a sort of desperation in Peter's words that I didn't really get until my third read and... well done on that, I suppose, though I dunno if you actually spent as long thinking about it as I did.
You've been having fun with the imagery, it seems. It's all burning words and too-black blacks and bitter-numbing winds and motorbike war cries and so on. It's all very beautiful and very immediate, and suddenly turned my world from a well-lit room on a nondescript night in August to terrifying, cold, grief-stricken Oct 31 1981. And I wasn't even alive then.
You could've written this fic as a poem, and that's a compliment, btw.
Although that said, 'His dark sweep of lashes were coated in hot, terrified tears' may have been a touch overdone. It came across as a little bit pretentious, almost. I'm not trying to be rude or anything, just that that line detracts slightly from an otherwise fantastic fic.
I especially like the contrast between all the imagery and emotion of the third person narrator with the immediate, human concerns of Sirius-in-italics. And now I'm sounding pretentious. [different expletive]
The placing the date at the end of the piece was a nice touch, too. It makes this moment seem like a historical event, a Pensieve memory they show to kids in History of Magic after the war.
I don't need to tell you that I loved this, do I?
Author's Response: Oh goodness I spend hours thinking about that tiny, small note. We know from Canon that Sirius had went to check on Peter in his hiding place, and Peter wasn't there, which lead him flying to the Potters. So I wanted to bridge that gap and have him know that they were most likely dead the entire ride over, while still keeping that small hope they'd be alive. I saw Peter shaking, puking, crying - everything while he wrote that. He wanted so badly for them to understand that he just wasn't ready. He never stopped to realize that they weren't ready, either. He thought there might be a small chance that they would think: "Oh, he did what any of us would." But that's so far from the truth. So anyway, yes, desperate was really what I had him feeling while writing that.
I had a blast with description in this! I just wanted everything to be raw and living and sitting there strangling you. I'm happy you pointed that line out! I could probably take away one or two of those descriptive words ;). I definitely don't want anything taking away from the meat of this.
The first draft of this had much more Sirius-italics-thinking. But I just couldn't figure out where to draw that line. Did it end when he held his best friends limp head in his lap? Or when he thought about what this meant for him, or when he heard that first cry from Harry in the crib. So I settled on using 'his' words for only the most intense ones, and going with the 500 word challenge ;). Mwahaha.
Thank you so much for this lovely review, my darling! I think I could write this same piece a thousand different ways. I'd love to figure out just what Remus was doing during all this, too. *hint hint*.