A/N; This is something dedicated to the Sirius and James friendship- it was only supposed to be a one shot but somehow went in a completely different direction than I had planned. It will be about three chapters (I think) just about the famous friendship from Sirius' point of view.

Prologue

Sirius sighed and stared around at the room; His childhood room; the room he had sought solace in from his family, the room he had covered in anything and everything that was different from them, the room that in those dark days of his adolescence, allowed him to maintain his identity with the walls that screamed Gryffindor, and the photos that showed that he had another family, a more important family based not on blood bonds but on friendship and love and loyalty.

In short the décor of his room succeeded in proving the one point that kept him sane; he was nothing like them; them beingthe pure blood maniacs that called themselves his family, with whom he had shared nothing with but blood and an occasional place of residence.

Standing there now, he noted how though the room looked very much the same as it had done all those years ago, there were changes; a thin layer of dust lay around room, the Gryffindor banners once bright and dominant, had faded, the gold and red merely shadows of what they had once been. Just like you said a small voice in his head, and it was true, there was no denying it. He was no longer the man he had been, he had changed. Azkaban had changed him; James' death had changed him. He no longer smiled with ease, his face where once handsome, was now skeleton-like, his skin waxy- faded. He was only a shadow of the man he had once been; he could remember the time where laughter flowed from him throughout the day, where he burst with happiness and life. Where he could fight for what he believed in.

Fighting for what he believed in. That was what he wanted to do now more than anything else. He thought of the past; he had been in the thick of the action, someone who others relied on, someone who fought alongside his brothers, and now? Now he was stuck in the house that had haunted him in his childhood. He could not fight for what he believed in, he could not get revenge on those who had killed his loved ones and could not protect those loved one he had now.

He had failed as a man, as a friend, and as a godfather.

Had he not promised James that he would always fight for what he believed in, that he would not cower away in fear, not become like them? Had he not promised that he had known what he was doing when he made them change secret keeper, had he not held Lily's hands in his own and swore to her that her family would be safe? And perhaps most importantly, had he not promised that in the chance anything happened to them he would take responsibility for Harry, that he would love and care for him, that he would protect him at any cost?

But he had not fulfilled any of those promises- instead of fighting, he hid, his decision and their trust in him had led to their deaths, and while he could love Harry, he had not been there to protect, he had not been there when the teen had needed him most. Molly had been right.

The laughter from downstairs seeped through the floor as he paced the room a bottle of Ogdens finest clutched in his hand- sighing Sirius took a swig. He wanted so much to be happy, to join the merriment below, he knew he would regret standing here drinking himself into intoxication later, when they would all go back to Hogwarts, back to living, leaving him alone in a house cold and dark and full of haunting memories.

He was dreading that; them leaving and him staying in the house that he hated more than anything. He thought about how it would be, the same way it had been in the months leading up to Christmas; lonely, dark, suffocating.

And quite suddenly Sirius felt himself gripped by fear, he could feel it his chest, suffocating him and he hated it. He could not remember a fear like this, a fear that made him want to collapse on the ground. How would he survive? Locked in this prison, he would end up losing himself, no doubt. He would become mad. He would, he would… what would he do? Would he be able to stand the taunts of Snape, the fear for his godson, the lack of action- of anything?

He stared around the room; this place was in some ways worse than Azkaban; while there he might have had to listen animalistic cries, and relive his worst memories at least he had hope; hope that his innocence would be proved someday. Now however, there was no hope, there was nothing and although he was no longer forced to listen to the blood curling scream of Bellatrix Black, he had to endure the dark whisperings of his childhood; the ghosts of his past surrounding him, the scream of his mother, piercing his heart, and the door of his brothers room drawing his eyes.

He was five and was pushed into a corner, his father's hand coming hard on to his face; it stung, he did not cry. Crying meant more pain, he knew that by now. He was seven and his father's footsteps were a death march as they neared his room. Nine now, and he watched his mother raise her hand on Reg, he stepped forward and with a feeling of bravery stopped her hand- he had paid for that. Reg closing the door on his face. He was twelve and he had just returned from his first year at Hogwarts, his mother's screams, his father's thundering voice, the push, the fall, the pain…

He jumped; the sound of Molly Weasley screaming at one of the kids broke had broken his reverie and Sirius glanced down, surprised to see the bottle of Ogdens in his hand. Perhaps he would drink himself to sleep every night when they all went, maybe if he was drunk enough he would be able to forget. Maybe he would be able to delve into dreams and visit old friends, long gone but still alive in his memories rather than memories that were filled with horror.

Because he needed an escape, needed it as desperately as he needed air-he closed his eyes tight at that moment, praying to a God he did not believe in that he would be able to stay sane, stay whole for Harry. Just for Harry.

So go downstairs said a voice Go and be with him- live, make him believe everything's OK

But he could not go back down there now and put on a smile and laugh and act as everything was ok when it wasn't, nothing was ok, nothing had been ok for nearly fifteen years, in short nothing had been OK since the day his best friend, his brother had been murdered. Nothing had been ok since that October and nothing would ever been ok for Sirius again.

He would be able to smile now and again, gain joy from watching Harry grow into a man. The fact that he was able to be part of his life was in itself more than he could have asked for but he would never regain true happiness, he would never be able to go back or bring back James and with James only lay his true happiness; before they had met his life had been suffocating, dark and filled with misery- he had been allowed to breath but not live, James had changed that, he had broken the cage and allowed Sirius to once and for all live; he had brought happiness, No, he had been happiness.

He smiled even now just at the mention of his name; James Potter; Prongs- he had been more than just a friend and more than a brother, they had known each other better than they known themselves, in one's happiness lay the others and whilst they were not exactly the same, they still fit, they made up for each other's flaws, Lily had once gone as far to joke that Sirius was James real soul mate.

He looked at the picture on the wall of the four of them, and his eyes lingered on his best friends face, he smiled at the look of absolute bliss, there was no worries back then, it had taken him a while to get to this stage, to be able to look at picture of Prongs and smile, instead of turning away because of the unbearable pain- it was still there of course; the pain, the guilt but he was able to see past it now, to reach out for past memories and smile at the thought of the friend who had done so much for him.

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