Archive of Our Own

Harry didn't recognise him, this man that came from nowhere. 

They were in something called the Death Room in the Department of Mysteries, and he'd just... popped out. There was a Veil in the middle of the room, under a thick stone archway, and he'd fallen out from it without any of them doing anything. Well, Harry had been reaching out for it, but Neville had yanked his hand away before he could make contact. They'd been about to step away, and then he'd fallen out. They hadn't done anything. 

"What the-?" the man said in confusion. His face scrunched and he shook his head as if clearing a headache. The first thing Harry noticed about him was the muggle clothes. The second thing was that he was handsome; he had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and his nose was long and pointed. "Who're all of you?" He got to his feet and moved as if he was going to grab his wand, but he stopped long before he connected. It was more of a twitch of his hand than anything else. He looked around, taking in Harry and his friends, and then the room they were all in. "Where are we?" 

"We're in the Ministry of Magic," Harry answered. "In the Department of Mysteries." 

"We need to get out of here; we can ask each other questions later," Ginny said. 

The mysterious man was on board for that, so they hurried back out the door, grabbing Hermione and Ron as they did so. He offered to help Ron walk since he couldn't do it on his own, and Harry didn't see any reason to tell him no. "Are you a Prewett?" he asked. 

"Yeah, on my mother's side, me and Gin," Ron slurred. 

"We're practically related then," he said, flashing a smile at Ginny. "You know Fabian and Gideon?" 

He gave a small nod. "They're my uncles." 

The man frowned. "You're a bit old for that, aren't you?" 

"They're a bit dead for that," Ron said with a painful sounding snort. 

"They're what ?" he asked, looking and sounding shocked. When Harry glanced back at him from where he was at the front of their group, it looked like there was grief in his expression too. "No, that's- that's not possible. I saw them last week; they were fine." 

"It sounds like your last week was about two decades ago for the rest of us," Ginny said. 

"...What year is it?" he asked quietly. 

"Nineteen ninety-six," Hermione said. 

He shut his mouth, eyes wide, and didn't say anything for the rest of the walk up to the entrance. When they got there though, he asked, "Why did you guys come here when it's closed?" 

"I-" Harry swallowed thickly. They started to walk over to the floo grates. It would be easier to take the floo out to somewhere in Hogsmeade than try to get in the phonebooth and hope they could find a way back once they were on the street. "I thought my father had been captured and was being tortured, so we came to get him. I don't get what the point was. Getting us out of Hogwarts is useless if they don't act on it, and we haven't run into any of them." 

"Maybe they thought it would take us longer to get here," Luna said. 

"Or maybe," a hauntingly familiar voice said, sending chills down his spine, "we were picking our moment." 

Harry whirled around, wand up. Bellatrix Lestrange was there, along with- bugger. Ten other Death Eaters. They were outnumbered, and both Ron and Hermione were injured. Ron had pushed himself off the stranger and was standing on his own, albeit a touch wobbly. His wand hand was steady, but Harry didn't know how long that would last for. Luna wasn’t big on fighting, even though her hand was steady as she pointed her want at them. They were all tired. This wasn't going to go well. "Seems pretty stupid to wait until we're close to the exit if you ask me," he said, working hard to keep his voice even. 

"You have the prophecy we want, and two of your little friends are useless." She grinned, showing a shark's smile. "I'd call that perfect timing." 

"You always did have poor planning," the man that had fallen from the Veil said. 

Harry couldn't help but glance at him, and even though his eyes darted back to the Death Eaters, he was startled by the similarity the man had to Bellatrix. They could be brother and sister with how similar they looked, from the thick black hair around their shoulders to the sharp smiles on their faces. 

"Is that Sirius?" Malfoy's father asked, his voice stricken with disbelief. 

"It can't be," Bellatrix snapped. "He's dead. This is a trick of some kind." She snarled at Harry. "Give me the prophecy, and I won't torture your friends for fun before I kill them." 

"How generous," Harry said flatly. She was lying anyways, and he knew that. 

She gave him two more seconds before her smile widened. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She threw a spell in their direction. 

Before Harry could respond, Sirius did. He'd been about to put up a shield charm, but whatever Sirius did sent the spell careening back in Bellatrix's direction. Instead of her reacting with a shield, she dodged out of the way. Whatever kind of family they were to each other, there was no love lost in their relationship. It made Harry trust him automatically, at least a little bit. 

"It is you," she hissed. 

"But that's not-" 

"I know it's not possible!" she screamed. "I'll take care of him; the rest of you get that prophecy." They moved like a wave at her order, and then it was a flurry of thrown spells and the sound of the room around them being blown to bits from the ones that missed. 

Fighting next to Sirius reminded him more of seeing Dumbledore in a duel than anyone his own age. He was better than all of them, and it was probably the only reason they were able to get out. They slowly inched closer to the floo, and when the time came, Harry was able to signal to his friends that they should jump for it. Hermione was the one who called out their location, and they were whisked away. 

The last thing Harry heard from the Ministry was Bellatrix screaming "No!" in outrage. They hadn't captured any of them, and they also hadn't managed to get the prophecy. He didn't know the significance of a prophecy or why they'd want it, but it had to be a good thing that they hadn't succeeded in getting it. 

They got spit out in Harry's house. "I didn't know where else to go," Hermione said, her voice a mixture of apologetic and breathless. 

"It's fine," he said, shaking his head. If Dad was here, then he'd be able to help them get in hospital for the ones who needed it. Maybe he could explain the prophecy, too. If he wasn't here, then he probably would be soon. If nothing else, they were safe now. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "I'll get help. Everyone just... sit tight." That's what Dad always said. Sit tight, Haz. He only said sit tight when there was nothing else that could be done, and Harry felt like it applied right now. He headed for the stairs to go up to Dad's room. If he wasn't there, then he could give the mirror another try. 

He made it down the hallway but not into his room when his half of the mirror buzzed in his pocket. He answered it, and Dad's face appeared, looking frantic. "Haz? Where are you?" 

"Home." 

"Thank Merlin," he breathed. "There was so much destruction, we couldn't tell if you'd made it out or not. Are all of your friends with you?" 

"Yes and erm- some bloke appeared in the Death Room while we were there. He seems like he's on our side, and he helped us in the fight so." Harry wanted to ask if Dad knew him. Twenty years would put him in the same time frame as Dad, wouldn't it? They probably were at Hogwarts at the same time. "Ron and Hermione both got hurt. After the fight, someone else might've, but I don't know." 

Dad nodded. "We'll be there soon. Just sit tight." 

His image faded and was replaced with Harry's reflection. He smiled faintly. Sit tight. He put the mirror back in his pocket and walked back to the living room. "Help's on the way," he announced when they came into sight. 

Neville, as the only one who'd been here before (and also wasn't injured), had grabbed water for everyone. As instructed, they were all sitting gingerly on the couches, waiting-- some of them in more pain than others. Ron, in particular, had a grimace etched into his face. 

Sirius was separate from the group. Not in seating arrangement or because they were all comfortable here and he wasn't, but because he was standing at the mantle, looking at one of the many photographs Dad had put up. "Whose house is this?" he asked. 

"Mine," Harry said. 

He glanced back to see who answered, then went back to looking at the pictures. No, that wasn't quite accurate. He was looking at one picture. 

Harry didn't know which one it was since Sirius's body was blocking it, but he could see when he picked it up. Harry frowned. "Hey, put that back." 

Sirius didn't. "This is me. Me and my mates at Hogwarts." 

Curious now, Harry walked over and looked. Sure enough, it was Dad's picture of his school friends, all four of them lined up with their arms around each other's shoulders. One of them had died in the war, another had turned traitor and joined Voldemort’s side, and the other one was Uncle Moony-- and then Dad, of course. 

"Why do you have this?" Sirius asked, his brow creased. 

Harry thought it was pretty obvious. "My d-" he stopped when the door opened; Dad had always preferred to apparate rather than floo, and from the sound of all the footsteps, all of the Order had come with him. He wasn't the first one to walk in the living room. Harry walked over to greet them-- not officially or anything, but he knew that he had a lot to answer for. Sirius stayed where he was next to the mantel, staring down at the photograph as the boys silently laughed together. 

With all the commotion and taking care of Ron and Hermione and checking over the others (none of them were so hurt that they had to go to St. Mungo’s, thank Merlin), Sirius was basically forgotten. 

Until Uncle Remus walked in, finished assuring himself that Harry was okay, saw Sirius, and went pale. "Who is that?" 

Harry glanced at the man. 

He hadn’t moved an inch since Harry had last looked at him. He looked horribly lost and was still staring at the photograph. "He's the man we found in the Death Room. I told Dad about it." 

"His name?" 

"Oh, right. Er, Bellatrix called him Sirius? I think they're related or summat." 

Uncle Remus swallowed thickly. "Yeah," he said absently. "Yeah, they are. Just- excuse me for a second. You sure you're alright?" 

Harry nodded and watched as he walked over to Sirius. 

"Sirius?" 

He looked up and cocked his head. "Moony?" Then he brightened. "It is you! Bloody hell, I'm happy you're here." 

"How?" 

"Very easily. I see you, and I smile. Done." 

"How are you here ?" 

"Not too sure about that myself. It's called the Department of Mysteries , mate. Is James here?" Sirius asked excitedly. 

He knows Dad? Harry wondered, then he wanted to smack himself. Of course he knew Dad. They were in the photo, right next to each other. But then, he could honestly say that when he went into the Ministry, he hadn't expected to come out with his father's old friend. His old, best friend, to be specific, because they were the ones in the middle of that photo together. 

"Erm, yeah, he's here, but-" 

"Where?" Sirius asked, perking up. 

"He's right back there," Remus said, pointing a haphazard finger back towards the door. "But Sirius, do you know how long it's been?" 

"Yeah, we're in the nineties," he said distractedly, peering around Uncle Remus's shoulder, presumably to try and find Dad. Harry knew that he should be paying more attention to his friends and making sure they were okay, but he was horribly curious about Sirius, this lost best friend of his father. 

"A lot's happened since you've been- er, gone." 

"You can say 'dead', Moony," Sirius said. It was comical to hear him say the nickname so casually because Harry had always considered it a rather childish habit, but Sirius didn't seem the least bit embarrassed. "I'm not a bleeding idiot, even if I haven't been around for the last fifteen years. And of course a lot has happened. Your hair started going grey." Before Uncle Remus could explain the changes he did mean, Sirius's whole face lit up and he happily shouted, "James!" 

Dad's reaction was like Uncle Remus's until dialed up to eleven. All the colour left his face, and his eyes went wide. He froze in place so completely, it was as if someone had petrified him. 

Sirius either didn't notice or didn't care. He ducked around Remus and threw his arms around Dad, grinning from ear to ear. He leaned back, squeezing Dad's shoulders with his hands. "Wow, look at you." Until this moment, Harry hadn't noticed how tall Sirius was, but he was the same height as Dad. Maybe a little bit taller-- a centimeter or so, but not more than that. "And to think that you were worried you'd peaked in childhood." 

"What-?" Dad had to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth in order to get out a single word, but he couldn't manage more than that. 

"Dad?" Harry said, and Dad looked over. "This is the person I told you about, that we found in the Ministry." 

When Dad looked towards him, Sirius did too. Then he frowned in confusion. "Did he just call you 'Dad'?" 

"Yeah." 

"Why?" 

"Because that's what people call their fathers," Dad said, still looking numb. 

"You're his father? How the hell did that happen?" 

"We can talk later," Dad said. He walked over to Harry to make sure he was okay, leaving Sirius standing there, looking lost again. 

James didn't know who had given Sirius a photo album, but his best guess was Remus. That album was specifically the one he had out for Harry, so that he could see pictures of Lily, not to mention it had the only photos of all three of them together, with Harry as a baby. 

He was going to murder Remus the next time he saw him. 

"You married Lily," Sirius said, his voice tight with anger. 

It used to be that seeing Sirius angry put James's heart in his throat. He'd always been worried that Sirius was going to hurt himself, because that's how it had usually gone, in one way or another. Now, all it did was make him tired. Well, more tired. "I did." 

"You're a sodding liar, James." 

"Er, no, I did marry her." 

Sirius slammed the album shut and got to his feet, glaring. "The photos are dated, you arse. I hadn't been dead for three months before you shagged her and had to get married. You told me that she didn't mean anything to you. You told me that you didn't like birds. Therefore, you're a buggering liar." 

"Was I supposed to mourn you forever?" 

"As far as I can tell, you didn't mourn me at all. Less than three months, James! You told me you loved me, but as soon as I died, you acted like we never meant anything to each other!" he screamed. 

"Keep your voice down," James hissed, his eyes darting to the door. 

Sirius let out a harsh, but quiet, laugh. "You're unbelievable. More than that, you're fake. Either you were lying to me back then, or you're lying to yourself now, and you have been for the past fifteen years. Or- I'm sorry, Harry's almost sixteen, so you've been lying to yourself for more like seventeen years." 

"I haven't been lying to myself, but what the hell was I supposed to do? You were dead , and we were in the middle of a war. By the time the war ended, I had a baby that I had to raise on my own." 

"So you decided to bury yourself in the closet? Pretend that you and Lily were in love and that I never meant shite to you?" 

"I never pretended you were nothing to me," James snapped. Then he felt ashamed. Sirius was basically a kid, and here James was, letting himself get riled up over things that hadn't mattered in over a decade. "It was the same thing we told everyone else. We were mates, and that's it." 

"Yeah, just one problem with that: it's not what we are, and you know it." 

"We got swept up, and that's all," James lied. "It was stupid of us to think that it could last." 

"You're full of shite, love. Don't drag me into the history rewrite you've done with your life. I know what we felt, and it was real, so shut it ." With that, Sirius stormed out. It was clear to him that James wasn't going to have an honest conversation with him, but he didn't know why James was lying so bloody much. Just to piss him off? That was one explanation, but he didn't know what James hoped to accomplish with it. It's not like Sirius was going to disappear if he got angry enough. 

Maybe he was worried about Harry finding out the truth, but did he really think that Sirius would out him as revenge for some relationship that had ended when Lily had been murdered ? Sure, he hadn't been very careful earlier, but that's because him and James had always said that by the time they were thirty, they'd have nothing to hide. He hadn't really thought about it; he'd thought that James would be happy to see him, and for whatever reason, that wasn't what had happened. He still didn't understand why, and talking hadn't done anything except for make him mad. He’d been mad to begin with, after thumbing through the photo album, but before that, James had run out of him. 

In the preparations for the night-- filling up the house and making sure that everyone had a place to stay-- James had said that his old room was available for him. With nothing better to do, Sirius went there. He wasn't going to even try to get to sleep right now since he was too worked up, but he could at least see if there were any spare clothes lying around or summat. 

He opened the door, closed it, then looked up. And then it felt like his heart stopped. Everything was as he'd left it. He'd been in this room just yesterday-- for him-- and it was the same as if his yesterday hadn't been over fifteen years ago. James must've cast a preservation charm, because there wasn't dust gathering anywhere. It was possible that he'd come in to clean every once in a while, but it that were the case, then Sirius would imagine that he would've cleaned up a little. There were a few things out of place, but it wasn't tidied like everything had been put away. Him and James had taken turns going to each other's room for the night, not willing to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Potter about their relationship, even if they surely knew what was happening. 

The photo on his nightstand of him and James leaning on each other and laughing wasn't sitting up. It was laid flat on the wood so their image was pointed towards the ceiling. That wasn't how Sirius had left it. His leather jacket was sitting out on the bed, like someone had gotten it out of the closet and set it on their lap. It wasn't even his good leather jacket; it was the first one he'd had, that had been too big for him and brown instead of his preferred black. James's parents had bought him a new one when he moved in with them-- one that was the style and colour he liked, and it actually fit him; it was the one he was wearing right now. It was weird to see the old one out on the bed. 

He picked it up and pat it down for smokes, but the pockets were empty. He brought it over to the closet and hung it up. He knew that he had some fags around here somewhere, and with the preservation spell, they'd still be good. He walked over to the bedside table and righted the picture, then opened the top drawer. In it was a lighter that he'd bought for when he went to muggle bars, but there was no package of cigarettes in it. Some chocolate frog wrappers, lube and condoms pushed to the back, and a few spare knuts and sickles that he'd tossed in when he didn't feel like finding a pouch. 

He closed it and opened the second drawer. A half-empty bottle of tequila. James had thought it was disgusting. Sirius had agreed, but he'd bought it and by Merlin, he was determined to drink all of it. He'd only used it when James was away on a mission or after he woke up from a nightmare; it was usually enough for him to get to sleep. There was nothing else in that drawer. He shut it and moved to the next one, but all it had was his wallet of muggle money. 

Sirius sighed as he sat on the bed. He could always take the wallet and go buy more, but he knew that he'd had some left when he died. They had to be around here somewhere. 

After he checked the wardrobe drawers and all the jacket pockets though, he had to accept that he wasn't going to find them. He went back to the nightstand and grabbed his muggle money. There was a shop a couple blocks down, and it's not like he had anything better to be doing right now. He couldn't sleep, and James was being an arse. Everyone else was asleep. 

He left, came back, and still didn't have smokes. They'd wanted to see his ID, and when he handed it over without thinking, he learned that it was out of date. Apparently, the way ID's looked had changed a lot since his death, and besides, he looked the same now as he did in the picture, which meant that he hadn't aged in the last twenty years. It made sense to him, but it's not like he could explain to the cashier that he'd been temporarily dead. 

Rituals were complicated, and he was pretty sure that no one had anticipated a bored Sirius Black creating one to get a fake muggle ID, but it's how he'd gotten the first one and he had no problem doing it again to update this one. 

He went to the kitchen to get it started and learned, with no small amount of annoyance, that James had rearranged things from how his parents had had it. Also that he'd moved all the important ingredients to the top shelf so that Sirius had to climb on the counter to reach it. He didn't know why he bothered when James was the same height as him and would have to get a stool to reach. 

Sirius was kneeling on the counter, arms entangled to get to the back of the cabinet when Remus asked, "What are you doing?" 

"Making it to where I can buy smokes." He pulled his head out and looked down at Moony. "Unless you're willing to buy them for me. I've got the quid for it, but they thought I was underage." 

"If I'll get them for you, will you stop whatever it is you're doing?" 

"Yes." 

"What kind?" 

"Sterling, not menthol," Sirius said, extricating his arms and hopping off the counter. He pulled out the wallet and handed all of it over to Remus, then turned and closed the cabinet doors. "What're you doing up? I thought you went to sleep ages ago." 

Remus gave a small shrug. "Had a nightmare." 

"You want to talk about it?" 

He smiled sadly. "It was about your death, actually. So er, I don't think you want to hear about it." 

"Try me." 

"I mean, I wasn't there for it, so I only heard, but you know how nightmares go. They like to fill in the blanks." 

"Right," he said, even though he didn't really know. His nightmares were usually memories, and maybe they were worse, but when he woke up, he couldn't remember the fabricated details or if they existed at all. 

"When your body was found the first time, it was all... mangled. I'm glad you can't remember it. I can't imagine how much it must've hurt. But erm," he said, clearing his throat, "in the dream, you came back like you are, and then it happened again. You came back, and then we lost you, exactly like it had happened the first time." 

"That doesn't sound too bad." After all, if Remus had lived through it the first time, the second time couldn't be much worse. He knew that wasn't quite right as soon as the words came out of his mouth, but it was hard for him to take his death seriously when he was alive. As far as he was concerned, the world had changed while he was out for a walk. He didn't feel like he'd died or anything. 

"You weren't there to hear James scream," Remus said. 

"Surprising, considering he's acting like he doesn't give a shit about me." 

"You meant the world to him. He didn't know what to do when you died." 

"Evidently, he went and shagged Lily." 

"Would you rather he killed himself?" 

"Of course not, but his options aren't suicide and getting married." 

Remus opened his mouth to reply, then closed it and shook his head. "I don't want to get in the middle of whatever the hell the two of you are doing now. I'll go get your cigarettes." He turned and left. 

Sirius shouldn't have pushed. He shouldn't have acted like it was Remus's job to mediate between them, but he was frustrated. James was acting like he was nothing, and Sirius wanted for someone to tell him in no uncertain terms that that wasn't true. Unfortunately for him, it was hard to believe from anyone other than James. And Moony had just had a nightmare; the last thing he needed was Sirius jumping down his throat. He felt a little guilty about it, but not enough to apologise when he came back. He'd just thank him for the smokes and that would be enough. 

He put everything back into place. Then, after a moment's consideration, rearranged the ingredients so it made more sense. James had always been pants at organization, which made it all the more confusing that he'd moved things around in the first place. Maybe he did it for Lily, Sirius thought uncharitably. 

It's- okay, it's not like he hated Lily. He just hated what she represented in his life. The golden girl. Perfect grades, perfect makeup, and a kind smile. She was the sort of bird that James would marry, if he hadn't been bent. Hell, she was the girl James had married even though he was bent. Lily was the girl you married when you wanted two kids, a cat, and a cute little cottage in Godric's Hollow or some other magical neighbourhood to raise your family. Sirius wanted... pretty much the opposite of that. A muggle flat. Maybe an extra dog if Padfoot didn't count, but no pets outside that, and he definitely didn't want to raise any kids. Obviously, what he wanted as a life with James didn't line up very well with the status quo. And evidently, James had leaned into the status quo, at least a little bit. 

Remus had said his body had been mangled. He wondered what that meant. Moony probably thought it had enough imagery, but he wanted to know more. In their world, 'mangled' could mean a couple different things. Was it like he'd been mauled by Greyback? Was it a bone crushing curse after it had finished its work? Or was it something easier than that? Covered in blood and with his arm bent out of shape and cuts on his face. He was pretty enough that he thought that last option would still count as mangled, especially if there had been bone visible on his broken arm. 

He'd probably never know. Moony had almost been too uncomfortable to use the word 'mangled', which meant he wasn't going to get anything more out of him. Given the way James had been acting, he doubted that he'd cough up a description if Sirius asked. 

Remus came back in the kitchen with the wallet and pack of cigarettes in one hand, but he paused in the doorway. "What're you doing?" 

"Rearranging. James's taste is shite." 

"Did you ask him first?" 

"Nope. If he gets mad, at least he'd have to choose to talk to me." 

Moony blinked at him. He set the items down on the closest free space of counter and backed up again. "Er, I'm just gonna go. Remember not to smoke inside." 

"Yep." 

He finished rearranging before going outside. He knocked a fag into his hand and cast a wandless spell to light the end. He breathed out, watching the smoke leave his mouth in a steady stream. It calmed him a little, but it also reminded him of the way James would stare when they'd first gotten together. He'd said he thought it was hot, watching Sirius smoke. Sirius had taken the piss the first couple times, but with James staring at him with dark eyes, he'd been helpless to do anything but kiss him senseless afterwards. After that, he didn't bother to tease him about it. 

This place was buggered up. Moony looked like he'd aged forty years, not twenty. James didn't love him, didn't even seem to like him. He'd probably be happier if Sirius wasn't here, or at least, that's what he wanted Sirius to think for reasons as of yet unknown. Unfortunately for him, Sirius was around, and he was going to make that James's problem if he kept acting like a berk. 

Plus he had a kid. It's not just that Sirius couldn't comprehend James being with someone else, but James had told him multiple times that, given the option, he wouldn't want to have kids, and Sirius had agreed; he didn't want kids either. They'd both wanted to have each other and their mates, and that was it. If their friends had children, that would be okay as long as they didn't have to babysit straight away. James must've copied his own parents to make it this far without Harry getting totally buggered up. Harry was probably an accident, anyways. There was no way for Lily to have become convinced that James was that in love with her so quickly. 

He hated this place. His room was basically the same, in direct opposition with everything else that was going on, and he didn't know what to do, much less how to feel. Other than annoyed, but it was easy for him to feel annoyed. It was practically his resting emotion. 

He finished his cigarette, vanished the butt, then went back inside. He showered, changed into clean clothes, then went to their library. It was bigger than he remembered, but still smaller than the Black Family library had been. 

Sirius didn't get any sleep that night. He hadn't expected to. As far as he was concerned, falling out of that archway had been as if he was waking up for the day. Besides, James's whole thing was messing him up. Even if he had been tired, it wouldn't have been a very restful sleep. 

He'd grabbed some books and gone to the dining table. Not the fancy dining room table that was meant to houses guests for special holidays and feasts (and that Sirius had never once seen in use), but the one just off the kitchen that you could see from over the open counter. This one was also big, able to fit eight people comfortably. Another two could easily squeeze in, there just wouldn't be a lot of elbow room. 

Unsurprisingly, James was the first one up. Surprisingly, he seemed to be in a bit of a panic. 

Sirius raised an eyebrow. He didn't know what James had to be panicking about. After all, his son and all of his mates were safely tucked away in various rooms across the Potter mansion. It had always amazed Sirius that all the empty rooms had felt less empty in the Potter's house than his own. Whatever, the point was that if James was worried about any of them, it didn't really make sense for him to be in the kitchen. "You alright there?" 

"You weren't in your room," James said instead of answering. 

Sirius was tempted to give him shit for it, but picking a fight this early in the day when James was already upset with him wasn't what he wanted to do. Especially since he was getting hungry. He wouldn't be able to make a tactical retreat to his room, if needed. "Nah, couldn't sleep," is what he ended up saying instead of what he wanted to say, which was 'duh, what's the point of a bed that doesn't have you in it? Also you didn't answer my question'. 

"You've been up all night?" 

Again, duh. But it was James, and maybe if he was a little nicer to him than normal, he'd be able to win him over. Not that he really knew how to win James over since he'd never had to. He just showed up and James fell in love with his cute little face-- cute back then; now he was just handsome. "Yeah. Got some reading done," he said, gesturing to the books. Then he figured he should tell James before he found out on his own. "Oh, and I rearranged your kitchen. It's more efficient this way." 

"You did what?" James asked incredulously. Whatever had been worrying him before was now gone in the wonderful wave of not-liking-Sirius. He half-glanced back at the kitchen like he expected for Sirius to have put all the dishware in the center of the floor in a tower. Of course, Sirius had done nothing of the sort. 

"It was a bloody mess the way you had it. Trust me, this way's better." 

"Sirius, you can't rearrange things without asking first." 

He frowned. That was a little bit further than being annoyed with Sirius or hating him or something else stupid. "Why are you talking down to me? I'm not a kid. If you're hacked off because I rearranged the kitchen into something that actually makes sense from your stupid arse way of having it, then you should say that. Tell me that you got used to everything being your way after living as the only adult in a house for ten years. Don't hand me some rubbish about asking you first." 

"It's not rubbish, and I'm not joking. I want you to bloody ask about shite you want changed. You don't get to do it just because you feel like it." 

"I don't 'get to'?" Sirius repeated incredulously. "Hi, I'm looking for my best mate, have you seen him lately?" 

"He died the day you did." 

That was a little more than Sirius knew how to handle. So he did what he always did when he didn't know how to deal with an emotion: he kept talking. "Then maybe it's time for him to come back. Given, y'know, that I'm alive again. Look, I have no bloody idea what's going on in your head-- which is bad enough-- but have you considered treating me like a sodding equal? I'm younger than you now, but I'm not a kid." 

"You are though," James said. It wasn't accusatory, more resigned. 

"That's what's buggering you up," Sirius said in realization. "Isn't it?" 

"Of fucking course it's messing me up! I'm almost twice your age. You're closer to being like Harry than you are me. I don't know how I'm supposed to act around you." 

"I dunno, have you tried normal?" 

"Normal for us was never exactly normal," James said, crossing his arms over his chest in a classic defensive move. It was hard for him to look strong or intimidating though, because his hair was sticking up from being in bed, and he was still in his pajamas. 

"Our mates never found out; I don't see why that would be different now. Kids aren't exactly looking for reasons to find you suspicious." 

"Our mates never said anything, but they knew." 

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Whatever, your kid and his mates still won't be looking for it. And as you so kindly pointed out, you think of me more like Harry than like you." 

"That's not what I said," James denied. 

"Do you mind sorting out how you feel before you try explaining it to me?" 

"I know how I feel." 

"Do you?" Sirius asked doubtfully. 

James held his eyes for a moment, then sighed and looked away. "I'm going to go change," he said, then turned to leave. 

"That's not an answer!" Sirius called at his retreating form. Unfortunately, he knew that it was an answer as far as James was concerned. Merlin, he hated this. He tried to turn his attention back to the book he had open-- the construction of Gringotts and the layering of spells that they'd had to invent for it; it was fascinating-- but he couldn't focus on it. He blew out a breath in frustration and went to the backyard to light up. 

He was on his second cigarette (he normally only had one or two a day, but this whole thing was stressing him out more than he wanted to admit) when the backdoor opened, and Sirius didn't look over, assuming it was James. It wasn't, but he didn't know that until an unfamiliar voice said, "You smoke?" 

Sirius looked over. 

It was Harry, a jumper thrown over his sleep clothes, and though his glasses were on, he didn't quite look like he was seeing everything clearly. 

"Yeah. You want one?" 

"No way in hell. Dad would kill me if he caught me smoking." 

"So you do, just not when he's around," Sirius said. 

"No," Harry said, looking confused. 

And, in turn, that confused Sirius. "Oh." Harry didn't smoke, apparently? It's not like Sirius had when he was his age. He'd picked it up when he was seventeen, after going to a few muggle clubs. "Well, good for you then, I guess." 

Harry waited for several awkward seconds, but it's not like Sirius had anything to say to him. Nothing that he'd be willing to say to a fifteen year old about their dead mother at least, because he was curious as hell for how all of that had went down. When Sirius didn't talk, Harry shuffled back into the house. 

Sirius was bored, and even though he felt slightly better since him and James had talked that morning, he still didn't feel great . He didn't know why he was so bored. Maybe it was because James was in arm's reach but somehow still oceans away. He started making a cake. Chocolate cakes always made him feel better. Usually that was with Mrs. Potter making it, but she'd taught him how and he'd done it before-- it had turned out pretty good, in his opinion. Nothing would be better than her making it, but Sirius didn't need to be told that they were dead. James's parents were old, and Sirius had known they weren't going to be around for much longer. 

Harry and his mates were in the living room talking. He didn't know what about-- and it might sound rude-- but he didn't much care. James and Remus were... somewhere. Sirius did care about that one, but they hadn't told him; they'd just up and left without saying anything to him. He tried not to take it personally, but two days ago, they'd been his best mates and wouldn't have vanished on him without a word. Not to mention, where the hell was Peter? How many sodding people were dead, and how many times would he expect for someone to show up only to get absolutely horrid news? See, this is what he needed the chocolate cake for. It was triple chocolate, too, and he needed all three of those chocolates if he wanted to feel better. 

The point is, he was in the kitchen, alone. Again. Only this time there was no good reason for it since everyone was awake. He turned on the radio, and then it felt more like Mr. and Mrs. Potter were in the study and James was out flying his broom. At least until the radio started playing a song that he didn't recognise, and he felt simultaneously like a foreigner in his own home and an old man. 

The first intruder to his little piece of the past poked their head in the dining/kitchen area when the cake was starting to smell, but before it was done. It was one of Harry's friends, the bird that was related to Fabian and Gideon. "What's that smell?" she asked. 

"Cake." Sirius was sitting cross-legged on the counter, eating chocolate chips from the bag. The frosting was sitting next to him, waiting for the cake to come out and cool. 

"You made a cake?" she asked, like she couldn't believe he, of all people, was capable of it. 

He raised an eyebrow. "D'you see anyone else?" 

Another girl popped up from behind her. She was one of the two that had been injured last night, but she looked okay now. Maybe a bit pale, but it's not like Sirius knew her very well to be sure of it. "Based on the stories we've heard, it does seem a touch odd." 

"Yeah, I contain multitudes; it's fascinating." It's not like whatever prank stories they'd heard excluded him from a desire to bake. And it's not like he loved all baking or summat. He knew how to make this cake, chocolate chip cookies, and that was pretty much it. 

Both of them frowned. The Prewett girl in confusion, the other in a kind of bewildered astonishment. "You read poetry?" 

He shrugged and ate another handful of chocolate chips. "If you were wanting cake, it's gonna be a while before it's done." 

They both nodded, but instead of leaving, the Prewett girl hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "You want to join us?" 

"No offense, but hanging out with my friends' kids doesn't sound like a very good idea. James thinks I'm too young as it is." 

"So you'd rather sit here being bored?" she asked, raising a light coloured eyebrow. 

"Fair point," he said, tossing the chocolate chips on the counter and hopping off. If James was ignoring him-- which he was; he'd been in the kitchen all day and James had run in and run right back out when it was time for lunch-- then he might as well talk to somebody around here. 

The other Prewett kid-- he should really learn their names if he was going to be sitting down with them-- grinned when he sat down. "So are you going to tell us about Mr. Potter?" 

"I'm guessing you mean James and not Fleamont," Sirius said. 

"Who's Fleamont?" he asked. 

"My grandfather," Harry said. "He died before I was born." 

Sirius blinked. That was... a lot sooner than he'd been thinking. Not even a year after Sirius had died. Though it did explain why he hadn't seen any pictures of Harry with his grandparents in that photo album. It also explained why James was being so weird. He lost Sirius and his parents in one year. Speaking of, "Before we get into that, what happened to Peter? Peter Pettigrew," he added when they looked a little confused. "You going to tell me that he died too?" 

Instead of giving him a sympathetic look and nodding, Harry's face went tight. "No. He's alive." 

"O...kay." He wasn't going to ask; he'd bother James about it when he got around to cornering him later today. "What d'you want to know?" 

"Did he ever smoke?" Harry asked. He still looked a little rough around the edges from whatever bothered him about Peter, but he was more curious than he was upset. 

"Nah. He tried it a couple times to see if he liked it, but," Sirius shrugged. 

"Why would you ask that?" one of his friends asked. 

"I saw Sirius smoking earlier," Harry explained. 

"Can I get some names?" Sirius asked, gesturing vaguely to the teenagers around. 

"Oh, right. Erm, I'm Harry, and this is Ron," he said, nodding to the Prewett boy. "That's his sister Ginny, and then we've got Neville, Luna, and Hermione." 

Sirius gave a half-hearted wave to all of them, but his attention stuck on Neville. He already knew who Ron and Ginny were related to, but he had no idea for Neville. He hadn't gotten a good look at him last night, but now that they were in a safe place with good lighting, he thought he looked familiar. Maybe he just had one of those faces, but he kind of looked... "What's your last name?" he asked. 

"Longbottom," he answered. 

He snapped his fingers. "That's it, you're Frank's kid." 

"You knew him?" 

Sirius blinked. "Knew?" As in 'nobody knows him anymore'? "Bloody hell, is everyone dead?" 

"He's not dead. Him and Mum are just... in hospital," Neville said. He didn't elaborate; he didn't need to. There were a dozen different ways that they could've gotten there permanently-- and it had to be permanent, otherwise Neville wouldn't have been so surprised. Something mental, probably. 

"Sodding brilliant. Is there anyone that's fine other than James and Remus?" 

"Your brother's fine," Hermione offered with a small smile. She probably thought the news would cheer him up. If Regulus hadn't been sniffing around the Death Eaters when Sirius died, he would be happy to hear that. That Regulus was alive and perfectly alright wasn't exactly a testament to how the world was better. "We saw him over winter break at the Order meeting." 

"The Order meeting," Sirius replied flatly. "Regulus was at an Order meeting." 

"Erm, yes?" 

Sirius opened his mouth to say something scathing about the probable nature of his brother at those meetings, remembered who his company was, and shook his head. "When James said I missed a lot, he wasn't bloody kidding. Sorry, what were you asking?" he said, turning his attention to Harry. 

"You knew my mum too, didn't you?" he asked, his tone noticeably softer than it had been previously. 

"Erm. Yes." This was exactly the kind of topic that Sirius was uncomfortable with. "If you're looking for stories about her, I'm afraid you'll have to ask someone else. We don't know each other very well." Didn't, he corrected mentally. They didn't know each other, and with Lily dead like everyone else, they'd never have the chance. He well and truly couldn't believe that Peter, Fabian, Gideon, Frank, Alice, Lily, and who knew who else were all dead or worse. He wasn't sure he wanted to get to know this stupid time that he now found himself in. Maybe he should've stayed dead and avoided all this. 

And okay, it's not like he had a plethora of awful things to say about her. Even when they were completely at odds-- back when they were twelve or summat-- there wasn't much to say that would put her in a bad light. It's just that Sirius didn't like her. Sirius had managed to blame her for a dozen different things that weren't her fault, and while he knew they weren't her fault, it was difficult for him to talk about her without that animosity seeping out. Yes, Sirius was a right heel, but he wouldn't do that to her kid, who probably wanted to hear something nice. 

"Really?" Harry asked, but not suspiciously. "Uncle Remus said that you were friends." 

"Me and Lily or him and Lily? Cause they were mates. Pretty sure the longest conversation I ever had with her was when we were complaining about James tracking mud all through the Gryffindor common room when he decided the best time to work on his take off was when it had been raining all day." 

"The way Uncle Remus tells that story is that Mum was upset about the mud, and you thought he was being dumb for flying while it was raining." 

"That too," Sirius admitted. When James got cold, he got all cuddly. Sirius liked that aspect of it, but when it was raining, he got the blues. He didn't really know what to do with a James that was sad for no reason, in large part because he didn't want to get cheered up when he was like that. Or at least, that's how it used to be. He had no idea if James was still like that now. "He used to get so pissy when it stormed," he said aloud. He had to say something because he'd been quiet for too long after replying, and it was obvious that he'd been thinking about something. "Does he still do that?" 

"I don't think so?" Harry said, but it's not the sort of thing a child noticed about their parent; it was something you noticed about your friends. 

"Huh. I guess he grew out of it." That's what Mr. and Mrs. Potter had said when Sirius asked them about it. Don't worry dear, he'll grow out of it. He loves you, and we all have our bad days. Then they'd pat him on the shoulder and asked if he'd eaten lunch yet, since that had happened before he moved in with them and he'd only been visiting for the day. 

"How'd you meet?" Hermione asked. "Mr. Potter has mentioned you, but it’s not the sort of stories he tells." 

Sirius knew that she was telling him that to let him know why they didn't already know the story, but seriously? What kind of stories was James telling them that how they met wouldn’t fit right in? "We met on the Hogwarts Express first year." He snickered. "We put dungbombs in my cousin's compartment, but she couldn't prove it was us so we didn't get detention for it." And Bellatrix had certainly deserved it for putting a snake in Regulus's chair at a family dinner when she knew that he was afraid of snakes. He wondered if that was still true; he'd probably grown out of it like the way everyone else seemed to have grown out of themselves. "And that, darling, is how you get the best friendship in the world. How did all of you get to be so close?" 

When James finally came back, he wasn't alone. He expected for it to be Remus, but it wasn't. It was Regulus. It surprised him enough that he stopped paying attention to Luna and the creature she was describing-- a creature that Sirius was sixty percent certain wasn't real. Although, given that Hermione had mentioned him as a way of hoping to cheer Sirius up, maybe he should have expected for Regulus to show up. 

Regulus had... grown up. It felt silly to think; everyone but Sirius had grown up. It's just that on Regulus, it transformed him. He'd been a kid the last time Sirius had seen him. He hadn't had his final growth spurt, so he was a lot taller now. His face had been all baby fat, and he hadn't quite mastered the ability to stop scowling at everything; he didn't have that problem now. He'd always styled his hair like their father, gelled smoothly with a part on the left side. It used to make him look even more like a little kid, but now that he'd actually grown into his features, it made him look more like the Head of a Great House. Which... he was, right? Orion had been sick, terminal, before Sirius had died, and with Sirius both disinherited and dead, Regulus would be the one leading the House of Black. The hair didn't look intimidating on him the way it had on Orion, though. 

"Hi Sirius," he said. "It's been a while." 

Sirius didn't even recognise his voice. It had gotten so much deeper, and the accent he'd tried so hard to imitate had smoothed out into something natural. All of the tension he'd lost from talking with Harry and his mates was now back in full force. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"He's on our side, Sirius," James said. He was talking down to him. Again. Talking down like Sirius was an idiot for not thinking about it and coming to that same conclusion. 

"Since when? He never gave a shite about anyone before." 

"I was a dumb kid," Regulus said. "Things changed, and I did too. It's- for Merlin's sake, it was ages ago." 

"Good for you," Sirius said flatly. Then, knowing that James would think he was overreacting and not caring, he got to his feet and stormed into the kitchen. He'd be able to frost the cake now, and Godric knew he needed it. He wanted to be able to say that he wasn't pouting, but that was one hundred percent not true. He was grumpy, and he was upset about it. He didn't want to be in a bad mood, but James was hardly sodding talking to him, and then he went and showed up with Regulus without any warning. 

He should've known that they would follow him and not leave well enough alone. Which. Yeah, made sense. If he was in their position, he wouldn't leave him alone to stew, especially since his mood never got better if he was left alone. 

"You made a cake?" James asked, surprised. 

Sirius glared at him, then grabbed a knife to spread the frosting on. "You can't have any." 

"It's my kitchen." 

"Yes, and you've treated it horribly," Sirius said. He ignored Regulus. "It's my kitchen now." 

Regulus snorted. It was wholly unlike him, so Sirius's eyes went to him for a second before he tore them away again, hoping that his brother hadn't noticed. His younger brother, who was now older than him. Merlin, what a mess. "Are you sure you didn't marry him ?" Regulus said to James. 

Sirius threw a spoon at him without looking. He knew that it hit, if only for the sigh Regulus let out after it clattered to the floor. 

"Touchy, touchy," he said, picking it up. He walked a little closer and put the spoon on the counter. "Look, I know we don't have the best history, but I'm nothing like I used to be. I know it's not the best reason, but after Bellatrix had killed you, I started to question everything. I hadn't thought that-" 

"Bellatrix is the one that killed me?" Sirius interrupted. He still wasn't looking at Regulus, but his hand had frozen where it was hovering over the bowl of frosting. 

"Yeah. Sorry, I- I thought you knew." 

"In order for me to know, someone would've had to tell me, and since James seems to be refusing to talk to me, no, I didn't know." He scraped up another knife of frosting. 

"I meant that I thought you remembered it," Regulus said quietly. 

"Wrong again. I don't remember getting hurt or captured, much less killed. I don't know anything, and no one wants to fill in the blanks. Except for Harry. Wonderful kid, must've gotten it from Lily." 

James sighed, but he didn't defend himself. 

"Oh, you disagree?" Sirius said mildly. "Tell me what happened with Peter, then. Harry didn't want to talk about it, but there's still a photo of all of us out, so it must not have been too bad." 

"It's the only picture I had with us and Remus," James said. 

"You're right, that totally explains what happened with Peter," Sirius said flatly. 

James swallowed. "I'll tell you later." 

"Right, and I have no reason to doubt you. After all, you'd never ignore me or some shite, right? The last twenty-four hours have just been some strange fever dream, even though I feel fine. I didn't have to learn from a bunch of kids that Frank and Alice are in hospital and will never get out, the same way I didn't have to learn Gideon and Fabian are dead from their nephew. Because, obviously, you will take responsibility and fill me in on everything I've missed. I can totally count on that." 

"I don't think you're being fair," James said quietly. 

"Why would I be fair? I'm a kid, remember?" 

"You're being an arse." 

"Well, at least one thing hasn't changed," Sirius muttered. He thinned that layer, then set down the knife so he could get the second layer of cake out of its pan. He lined it up, then dropped it on top and brought the frosting close again. 

"Maybe you should come back tomorrow," James said, talking to Regulus. "He hasn't gotten any sleep since he got back." 

"Do you realise that I'm still right here and can hear you?" Sirius said, looking up so he could glare at his supposed best friend. 

"Are you really trying to tell me that you're not stressed from this? Your whole world changed, and you're, what, fine?" 

"I'm not fine because you're acting like a berk," Sirius said. "I'm not a stranger, and I'm not one of your son's friends. You can talk to me like a sodding equal, or I'm going to keep acting like a stressed out little prick." 

James sighed and clapped a hand on Regulus's shoulder. "Yeah, come back tomorrow." 

Regulus looked between them, then nodded. "Believe it or not, Sirius, I am happy to see you again." 

I'm happy to see you too, Sirius thought, but didn't say. 

Regulus left, but not before him and James shared a look. A comfortable, practiced look, like they were mates. "So that's what you've been doing while I was dead?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow at James. "Getting friendly with my little brother?" 

"There's no need to be defensive," James said, which was probably the most honest reply he'd had to something Sirius said since he stopped being dead. 

"On the contrary, I feel like there's a great need to be defensive." 

James didn't say anything. He was quiet for so long that Sirius half-expected for him to leave, but there was no sound of his footsteps retreating. Sirius was almost done frosting the cake when he finally said something. "We can talk tonight. About whatever you want."

Sirius glanced over at him. "You mean that? Or is this a misguided attempt to get me to stop brooding?" 

"Can't it be a little of both?" James said with a grin. He finally looked like the James Sirius knew. 

"Fine," Sirius said, but he was smiling too. "Tonight we talk, and for now, you don't get cake." 

"Aw, c'mon." 

"No cake for people that didn't bother to tell me my brother is good now, apparently." 

"So you're going to eat that entire cake by yourself?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius said, smile widening. "Harry and his friends told me that Regulus was in the Order. I admit, I didn't quite believe them. I mean, Regulus? The last time he did the right thing he was, like, six years old and poured porridge on our mother's head." 

The door closed, James cast a few privacy charms, and he turned to Sirius expectantly. That made sense; there were about a hundred and one questions that Sirius had for him about what had happened since his death, but now that he could ask them, they evaporated from his mind. He wanted to know about Fabian and Gideon and what had happened to them; he wanted to know about Peter and whatever the fuck was going on there. Hell, he didn't even know what had happened to Lily. Not how she'd died, much less how her and James had gotten together, and he certainly had no idea what was going on with Harry. Sirius had been able to figure out that Voldemort had some sort of interest in the kid, but that didn't make much sense. 

All of those questions left him when he finally had the chance to get answers. The only thing his mind could come up with was, "How did I die? Regulus said it was Bellatrix, and Moony said it was pretty nasty, but- I mean, that doesn't tell me much." 

James was quiet for a long moment. He probably didn't want to talk about it, but Sirius felt he had a right to know. He walked over and leaned against the desk. They were in Mr. Potter's office-- now James's office, he guessed. It was mostly the same as Sirius remembered from the handful of times he'd been in this room. The same dark finish on the desk, hell, all of the furniture was probably the same. It's not like James would've ever needed to redecorate. Sirius followed him over to the desk, but he didn't get too close to him, knowing that it wouldn't go over well. He thought about sitting in one of the armchairs, but that felt too casual. They were talking about his death and James's life afterwards. It wasn't a light topic of conversation that he could lounge around for.

"You got called back to the Auror's office after work one night," James finally said. "They said you'd forgotten to sign off on some form, so you went back in. We looked into it after you were taken, but we're not sure if the message was faked or not. They might've faked it themselves, or they could've paid or threatened someone in the Ministry to send the letter so that they knew where you'd be when most everyone else was gone. Or maybe none of it was faked and it was just really shite timing when they happened to be around. We never found out. Point is, you headed back to the Ministry after hours, and that was the last time any of us saw you alive." James swallowed thickly. "You were gone for two days, and then your body was found by Muggle authorities outside Epping Forest. I think they blamed it on wild animals. We blamed it on werewolves at first." 

"Then how did you know it was Bellatrix?" 

"About a week after your body was found, Regulus came to me. Apparently, it had been a rather public execution among the Death Eaters and people who supported them." 

"He stood there and watched?" 

"You were already as good as dead, and he was sixteen . Not to mention he was surrounded by a hundred different wizards that wanted you dead." 

"I had no idea I was so popular," Sirius quipped numbly. That wasn't really what he'd imagined. He'd kind of thought that him and Bellatrix ran into each other and the resulting fight hadn't been pretty. Bellatrix had always been the better dueler-- the best, really; he wouldn't have stood a chance if she'd had any backup, which had made the fight at the Ministry rather surprising to him. She'd been off last night, and while he didn't know the reason for it, he knew it was true. 

"I think they considered you to be the highest class of blood traitor. She erm, cut your throat with a knife and let you bleed out. After that, your body was given to Greyback. I mean, I think. Regulus wasn't exactly emotionally stable when he showed up. He might've had his hands on you before that, I don't really know." 

"Moony said I was mangled when my body was found." 

"There were bits of you missing," James said tonelessly. "You were barely recognizable." 

"Ah." That kind of mangled. Literally torn to bits. That better explained why no one had wanted to tell him about it. "How'd you and Lily get together?" 

"Really? I tell you that you were horribly murdered, and the next thing you want to know is about me and Lily?" 

"I seem to remember you telling me that you'd love me forever. The rest of your life, at the very least. You promised me." 

"We were kids," James said brokenly. "We weren't thinking about the future or how the rest of the world wouldn't have let us be together." 

"Sod the rest of the world, James! We always knew that we were going to have to hide it, and you still made those promises. You loved me, once, whether you're willing to admit it now or not. You didn't fall out of love with me that quickly. Something happened. Lily got pregnant, so you got married. Maybe she even knew you were bent afterwards so it's not like it was a real relationship, but something happened to make you sleep together in the first place." 

"If you're hoping to hear about some life changing event, you're going to be disappointed. She learned that her parents were dead, she was upset, and it... just happened." 

"That doesn't explain anything." 

"Haven't you ever heard of comfort sex?" 

"Yeah, it explains her side of it; it doesn't explain yours." 

"I was messed up from losing you; it wasn't exactly a secret."

"So that's your grand excuse? You were sad that I was dead?"

"I wasn't just sad , Sirius. I was completely..." he trailed off, not finishing his sentence. "I wished I was dead too. I didn't know how to live without you. I was reckless and stupid, and I thought that if I was reckless and stupid enough I'd get killed so I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. I tried being normal for a spell, and that’s how it happened. Lily was upset, and I was giving it a try. And then," he shrugged helplessly. "Then Lily told me she was pregnant, and I couldn't leave her alone to raise Harry so that I could try and die, and if we were going to be raising a kid together, there was no reason for us not to give marriage a try."

Sirius didn't have anything good to say to that, because what the hell do you say to someone when they tell you your death made them suicidal? He reached out to touch James, and James moved away. "You say you were so broken up about losing me, but now that we're getting a second chance, you can't even look at me."

"You're a fucking kid," James said bluntly. "You're not a second chance; you're a reminder of how badly I buggered up my life."

Sirius didn't think of himself as crying easily, but damn if that didn't make tears start to well in his eyes. It was worse than his father telling him that he wished he'd only had Regulus as a son. It was worse than Moony telling him that he hated him after Sirius told Snape about the Whomping Willow. James had never wished for him to be gone, before. He'd never asked for space or said that he regretted, for a single second, letting Sirius live with him.

And now...

Now James was telling him that Sirius had had an instrumental hand in messing up his life. If it weren't for him, James could've done normal and been decently happy with it. It was what Sirius had always been afraid he'd feel but would be too reserved to say aloud.

"If that's how you feel, then why did you let me stay here?" Sirius asked.

"You didn't have anywhere else to go."

"I didn't have anywhere else to go?" he repeated incredulously. "You dragged my brother here and tried to convince me that he's a good person now. You could've foisted me off on him if you hated me so much."

"I don't hate you."

"You've got a funny way of showing it." He paused, giving James ample opportunity to elaborate. Or add something. Say anything, really, and he didn't. "I'm done, I don't have anymore questions. Let me out."

"I thought you wanted to know everything?"

"That was when I thought you still liked me. I'm not going to spend hours talking to someone that looks down on me."

"I don't- I don't look down on you."

"The hell you don't."

James didn't argue further. He waved his wand, and the wards came down. He didn't bother to leave the room at the same time that Sirius did.

They were little more than strangers. Or perhaps, they were more like rivals that used to be close and all that was left was bad blood.

He hated it. He wanted to march back in there and demand that James tell him exactly when he stopped caring about Sirius. He paused, turned on his heel and went back to the office. What was the worst that could happen? If James kicked him out, he could just go to Regulus. Regulus, at least, was nostalgic and yearning for what their relationship could've been. He hadn't grown to hate Sirius, like James had done.

Sirius walked into the office and slammed the door shut.

James jolted. He was sitting in an armchair, and he'd had his head in his hands when Sirius walked in. His glasses were sitting on the desk, like he'd ripped them off and put them there so he wouldn't break them. Now, he was looking over at him, eyes wide.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Do you think I'm a kid or not? Because if you do, then you shouldn't be treating me like rubbish. And if you don't think of me like a kid, then I'm your long lost boyfriend and you still shouldn't be treating me like rubbish. You're pushing me away, and you're being a prick. You want me to leave you alone? You tell me what the hell you're on about with this. Somewhere in your life, you started to hate me, and I want to know when and why."

"I don't hate you!" James screamed, getting to his feet. His eyes were slightly unfocused without his glasses. "You don't know what it was like! Wanting to be with you every day and wishing that it could happen. All I wanted was to have you back-- to get my life back! I was alive, but it wasn't mine . The life I wanted was with you! All of it, every stupid detail, surviving the war to find our way into this one, wolfsbane, figuring out what to do about Peter- I- Sirius, I wanted you. I kept thinking you'd walk through the door, exactly like you were when I last saw you, and everything would be perfect. Then you show up, looking exactly like that, and I've outgrown you. I'm twice your age! I can't be with you even though it's all I want. I'm raising Harry by myself, and I'm failing. I'm horrible at being a parent; I never buggering wanted it. You're here and it should be everything I ever dreamed of, but I'm old and you're practically Harry's age and nothing is fixed! Voldemort's still alive and Peter's on his side like our friendship never meant anything, and Moony's doing okay, I guess, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do!"

This was the first time since Sirius had gotten here that he'd seen James emotional-- truly emotional, not just annoyed or a little worked up. James had completely lost his hold on his emotions. He was screaming, flushed, and a few tears had slipped out of his eyes as he spoke, making his cheeks shine.

Part of Sirius was tempted to scream back and tell him that he didn't get to take out all of his uncertainty on Sirius. Mostly though, Sirius wanted to hug James. Who had been there to do it, in all this time?

"You're supposed to look at me," Sirius said, "and know that I want the same things you do."

"How am I supposed to do that?" James asked.

Sirius walked up to him, grabbed his face in his hands, and tilted James's face so that he was looking at him straight in the eyes. "All you have to do is look. "

James swallowed thickly, but he didn't try to move away from Sirius, which was a good sign. He was looking at Sirius, as requested. He still looked lost.

"You know me," Sirius whispered. "Sod how hard it is. I would do anything for you, and you know it. Maybe it's not the perfect second chance you dreamed of, but it is a second chance and we're not going to throw it away. You hear me?"

"We can't," James said, voice broken, and more tears fell from his eyes.

"We can."

"I don't know how to-"

"You don't have to figure it out on your own. I am right here , and I'm not leaving you again."

"Don't promise me that. You can't promise me that something won't happen to you."

"I promise," Sirius said firmly. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to James's mouth. It was wet from his tears, and he was quivering because he was crying still. "I promise," he said again, giving him another quick kiss. "You won't be able to get rid of me if you try."

This time, James was the one who leaned in to kiss him.

Sirius moved his arms so he was hugging James, and they leaned on each other as James continued crying, face pressed into Sirius's shoulder for so long that his cheek would be sore when he moved.

He spent the entire time thinking of what he could say to make this better, but the simple fact was that there was nothing. He couldn’t say anything to make this better, because words alone wouldn’t be enough. 

He couldn’t say that everything would be fine, because they had Harry to think about, and even though Sirius finally knew why Peter was alive but not around, he didn’t know why Harry seemed to be at the forefront of this war. He still hardly knew anything, and he was fine promising James one impossible thing but he wasn’t going to try for another.

He wanted to think of something to say that would at least make it seem not as hopeless, but he’d never been able to plan what he said. He usually said whatever first came to mind, and with James, planning something beforehand would feel ingenuine. 

"I know I haven't made this easy for you," Sirius said eventually. "I felt betrayed over you having Harry and being with Lily, and it wasn't fair. I was dead. I never wanted for you to be miserable over me forever. I should be happy that you moved on."

"I didn't move on though," James said. "I gave it my best shot, but it never worked. I just... tried to raise Harry and didn't think about it."

"Yeah." He didn't know what else to say to that. He couldn’t even let his mouth run itself this time. "C'mon," he said, pressing a kiss to James's hair, "let's go get some sleep."

"Does that mean you're staying in my room with me?"

"Try to keep me out and see what happens to you, love.” 

"Merlin, you haven't changed a bit. I know it's stupid to say that, but you're the same." James gave a small laugh. "I don't know how to deal with that."

"Every time you think it's weird, you kiss me. That's how you deal with it."

"I don't think that's going to work," James said, but he looked amused, not crushed.

"Not with that attitude it won't."

James kissed him then, but it wasn't any of the quick pecks that they'd done before. He sunk into it, one hand curled in Sirius's hair, and the other fisted in his shirt. When he pulled back, lips shiny with spit, he asked, "Have you been smoking?"

"That's what you're thinking about right now?" Sirius replied, raising an eyebrow. "We could be in your room, not the study, and we could be having sex instead of you wondering if I found some cigarettes."

"Found?"

"Made Moony buy me," Sirius said with a shrug, "whatever."

"Of course you did," James muttered, smiling softly. He kissed him again.

"Where's the pickled newt?" James asked, looking in the cupboard where it used to be with a bewildered expression on his face.

"It's sure as hell not with the spices we use for things we eat," Sirius said. "They're next to the ice box."

"Why is it over there?"

"Why would it be with the spices?"

"All the small jars went over there."

"And that didn't strike you as stupid?" Sirius asked.

"I'm so glad you two are back to normal," Remus said dryly. "I missed hearing James bicker with someone nonstop. Ten years of quiet was too much for me to bear."

"Shut it, Moony," Sirius said. "Unless you want us to team up against you, which we all know is what the alternative is."

"It doesn't have to be the alternative."

"Beggars can't be choosers. Really mate," Sirius said, turning his attention back to James, "why do you keep this many potion ingredients up here anyways? There's a perfectly good potions lab downstairs."

"I couldn't watch Harry up here if I was down there."

"He only needed watching for like six years. Seven, at the most."

"The way your parents raised you scares me," James said.

"It's not like I died from it, and we had cursed objects lying around."

"Again, your parents were horrible."

Sirius rolled his eyes. Yeah, he already knew that, but he still didn't think that Harry at ten would've needed someone constantly watching him. "Why're you looking for pickled newt anyways?"

"Need it to strengthen the wards on the house."

"And you're using pickled newt for that?" Sirius asked, wrinkling his nose.

"It works," James said defensively.

"Not half as good as hippogriff feathers."

"That's illegal."

"What's illegal?" Harry asked, walking into the kitchen with a few of his friends with him.

"Buying hippogriff feathers," Moony answered.

James finally found the jar he was looking for, but Sirius snatched it out of his hands before he could open it or start to walk away.

"It's only a minor offense, and it's two sickles for five dozen feathers. If the Ministry really minded, it would be harder to get. Besides, it's like, cruelty free since they shed them on their own, which can't be said for all of the legal magical ingredients on the market."

"Why do you know that?" Ron asked.

"Because I made it my business to know," Sirius said, putting the jar back in the cupboard and closing it. "If the legality bothers you so much, I'll go and get them myself."

"That's not safe," James said immediately.

"Fine, Moony will come with me."

"Moony's doing nothing of the kind," Remus said.

"Fine, then I'll call up Regulus. It'll be fun to get to know my younger brother that's older than me."

"What makes you think he'll want to go to Knockturn Alley with you?" James asked.

"Because I asked," Sirius said with a wide grin. "This whole coming back from the dead thing is only going to work to my advantage for a short while, and then everyone's going to remember how annoying I can be. I have to use his guilt now, while I still can."

"That... doesn't sound nice at all," Hermione said, frowning at him like she didn't really know what to make of him.

"I've never been accused of being nice. You know, now that I think about it, there's probably hippogriff feathers in the Black Manor. I doubt Regulus would've used them all up. Really though, Prongs, I'm not letting you reinforce your wards with pickled newt. Have some self-respect."

"Pickled newt has been working fine for years," James said, rolling his eyes.

"Er, Dad?"

"Yeah sprog?"

"Why'd he call you 'Prongs'?"

James froze. "Ah. Erm."

Sirius cracked up laughing.

"You're not helping," James said, elbowing him.

"Was I supposed to be?"

"I hate you."

"Sure you do," Sirius said, still laughing. "As much as I hate you."

"Sod off."

"Is watching your language not part of being a father?"

"He's fifteen," James said.

"Does that mean he curses around you?" Sirius asked. He tried to raise an eyebrow, but he was smiling too much. When James didn't immediately answer, he said, "Of course not. Nobody does, no matter how well they get on with their parents. We didn't do it to yours, if you recall."

"My parents were like twenty years older than I am now," James argued, but it was weak.

"When Harry starts cursing around you, I'll admit that I'm wrong. Until then, I'm right," Sirius said, still smiling. "And I'm going to go floo Regulus. He's more likely to go with me than you are to let me go off on my own."

"Right you are, mate. Be nice to him, yeah? He's different than when you last saw him."

"Yesterday?"

"You know what I mean. When he was a kid."

"Yeah, yeah, I was listening last night," Sirius said, waving a hand at him as he walked away. "Don't even think about rearranging the kitchen again."

"How would I? I can't bloody find anything."

Sirius only laughed and kept walking to the floo. Thank Merlin that everything was back to normal between the two of them. Everything else, Sirius could deal with. A second war, learning who was dead and who was on their side, finding out what was happening with Harry, all of it. He could deal with it, so long as James was at his side.