AN: Thank you to any and all who take the time to read this! I write in Google Docs and even though I reread I may have some weird autocorrects when I work on it on my phone or tablet. I don't currently have a beta reader either, and if anyone notices an error in my grammar or in canon, I will not be offended if it's politely pointed out!
My goal with this will be to write a canon account of the Marauders, at least as best as I can with our somewhat limited information about their time. A lot of "facts" are open to interpretation and speculation, but I hope to be as true to JKR's vision as a fanfiction writer can be, so I hope you enjoy!
I'm not sure how long chapters will be in the long run, but I think this one is going to be considered a short one for what I have planned. But I also have little actually planned, so I'm also curious what you all might have ideas about! Please drop reviews! They make me motivated.
Special thanks to The Treadler for pointing out how badly a botched the submission the first time around because the formatting was all messed up. Should behave this time!
Edit: It did not, in fact, behave that time. Serves me right for trying to be productive away from my desktop. Third time's the charm?
The Knight Bus at 2:00 a.m. was not a common sight outside the Potter house, nor any other respectable family's, for that matter. What was made more unusual was the person who stumbled out of it. A tall, sixteen-year-old boy climbed off and began heading up the walk toward the beautiful, old home. He was dragging an ornate trunk behind him, the elegant carvings of snakes entwined with fleur-de-lis obscured by the posters of motorcycles and scarlet-and-gold lions he'd stuck over them. Partial articles of clothing stuck out as though packed in haste and two of the five locks were unfastened. The boy seemed to care not that the trunk was dragging on the pavement, making an alarming noise. It already bore several of those types of marks prior to this night's treatment.
When the boy reached the top of the path, he veered off, dragging the trunk onto the manicured grass in the Potter's front garden. He was heading to a window on the side of the house, but before he could reach it, the front door swung open.
"Who's there?" called a woman's sharp voice.
Cringing, he stepped into her line of sight. "Sorry, Mrs. Potter," he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Surprise lit up her wrinkled features, the light from her wand tip making her silver hair glow. "Sirius, dear boy!" she exclaimed, waving for him to come to the front door. "Merlin's beard, what on earth are you doing out there! And how many times have I told you to call me Effie, hm?"
As Euphemia Potter chided him, Sirius Black dragged the trunk and let himself be ushered in. The lights in the kitchen, as that was where she led him first, came on with a single clap of her hands. In the proper illumination of the lamplight, she gave Sirius a better look at and her expression turned to one of deep concern. Try as he might to hide it, she could see the way his gray eyes were shot through, red from tears he wouldn't want to acknowledge being a proud sixteen-year-old boy. His hands trembled, the grip he had on his trunk with the left hand causing his knuckles to grow white.
"Oh dear…" she murmured, pulling out her wand once more from the long pocket of her floor length, blue-silk-and-white-lace nightdress. She waved it and ingredients sprung from canisters within the kitchen cabinets and the icebox in the corner of the room. A dollop of cream and a floating globule of milk met with two spoonfuls of sugar, while a grater shaved chocolate into a mug. A dash of vanilla finished off the mix, all topped with a half dozen miniature marshmallows.
The steaming mug levitated over to Sirius and he finally released the trunk, letting it rest on the floor with a soft thud. It was summer, but one never turned down "Effie Potter's Famous Sipping Chocolate."
As he sipped it, the temperature just right for drinking, hot but not scalding, he let Euphemia guide him into one of the carved wooden chairs around their beautiful kitchen table. "Would you like to talk about it, dear?" she asked after several quiet moments, having let Sirius drink his chocolate and calm down before prodding.
It was heartbreaking to look at him right now. Euphemia had always been amused by his charm and swagger when she'd seen him, he and James two peas in a pod. Now he looked like a different young man entirely. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his distress. His eyes were puffy and his frown was so deep it almost looked deliberately exaggerated. And Euphemia had not missed the trunk sitting on her kitchen floor.
"I don't…" Sirius started, voice quiet and devoid of his trademark confidence. "I can't go back…"
Effie didn't say anything about his mother, but she was well aware of what kind of people Orion and Walburga Black were. If Sirius was anything like them, Effie knew her son would have had nothing to do with him. They didn't raise James to bigotry. She could only imagine how miserable the poor boy's life must be at home with such stark differences in opinion about the world. Until tonight, however, she had mostly not allowed herself to have those thoughts. It wasn't her place. At least, it wasn't her place until tonight when he'd arrived on her front stoop at two in the morning.
Euphemia was close enough to the boy that she could reach out and touch him, so she placed a hand on his shoulder. Sirius flinched instinctively, which did not go unnoticed, but he didn't pull away. That tiny movement spoke volumes. Had they hurt his body as well as his heart? Effie felt her own heart breaking for him.
"You don't need to go back to that house until you're good and ready, dear boy," she told him, voice firm.
Wrinkled though they were, there was a fire in her hazel eyes. James resembled his father more closely, but just then Sirius saw James's eyes in his mother's. How many times had James had that exact same expression? How many times had his eyes burned with passion like his mother's were now? Perhaps those passions weren't always chosen wisely, according to Remus, but James still felt everything deeply, from happiness to anger and even cruelty. It was an admirable quality and it was striking to see an echo of it in his mother.
"I don't want to be a burden…" Sirius began quietly, averting his weary grey eyes from hers.
"Nonsense!"
"But… Mr. Potter-"
Effie waved her hand dismissively. "Pish! Monty won't have a word to say against it! What's the difference in another young man underfoot? We always wanted a bigger family any-"
At that, at being referred to as family, even vaguely and offhandedly, Sirius seemed to crack, a hard sob hitching his shoulders. He seemed to crumple, turning away in shame as the emotions he desperately wanted to bottle up broke free. Though he could not control the reaction, he was still chiding himself internally. He was not a baby. He was sixteen for Merlin's sake! He was a man!
But Effie barely hesitated before wrapping her silk-and-lace covered arms tightly around Sirius, pulling him to her. She held him tight, the surprise stiffness of his shoulders melting after a second. Effie rocked him very slowly and gently, like she had for James when he was young. Sirius was struck by how odd this was, his teenaged pride demanding he stop and pull himself together. But he couldn't, his tears only growing more pathetic and the noises coming from him only growing less human. His arms went up, tentatively, to wrap around Effie as well, clinging to her.
In many ways, it felt as though time stretched endlessly on as Sirius' facade was shattered and his pain escaped, but it truly wasn't that long at all before he remembered himself and reined it all back in. The shaking of his shoulders ceased, his breathing steadied, and his eyes dried up. He gently pulled back from Euphemia and straightened up, but didn't say a word before a new hand rested on his shoulder from behind, startling him.
He turned to see James, hair wild, eyes tired, expression concerned. James's face was usually lit with cockiness and mirth, a perfect complement to Sirius, but he was capable of genuineness and seriousness on the rare occasion it called for it. Sirius felt embarrassment surge, but James did not mock him. James would never mock him, not for this.
"Hey," Sirius said quietly, standing from the chair. His hot chocolate was forgotten, left two-thirds unfinished and rapidly getting cold.
"Hey, mate," James answered simply, before tossing his arms around his best friend's shoulders and clapping his back affectionately. The hug was brief, but it meant a lot of things that words between teenage boys could simply not portray.
Euphemia did her best to contain her smile at the brief display. The shoulder of her nightdress was wet from tears, but she casually adjusted her long, silver hair to cover it. After the moment between the boys had passed, she cleared her throat gently.
"Sirius, dear, I'll have the second bedroom made up for you." She looked off and called, "Peesy!"
A sleepy house elf popped into the kitchen, bowing immediately in her embroidered pillowcase. It wasn't clothes, but Euphemia and Fleamont were fond of their servant and Effie had decorated the pillowcase with blue, pink, and purple stitched flowers. "Mistress called Peesy?"
"Yes. Please make up the second bedroom for Mr. Black. He'll be staying with us for a while."
"Yes, Mistress!" Peesy disappeared instantly.
"You don't have to…" Sirius began uncertainly.
Saving both of them the trouble, James interrupted. "C'mon, Padfoot. Elf'll be a while. You can bunk with me tonight."
Effie didn't argue, nodding instead. Sirius had done so already when he'd visited before. If he would be staying here for an extended period of time, his own room would be necessary, but for tonight they would be roommates once more.