The job of a best friend is often rather straightforward. You dedicate yourself to being there for the other, through the tough and the easy times. And, although in some cases the former may be regrettably ever-present, you yourself have chosen to be there for the one you could not see yourself enjoying the latter without. For Sirius Black, however, the matter had never been one of great simplicity. With Remus, the romantic relationship had surpassed their plantonic one and thrown that matter into a different light entirely. Peter had always been one for simpleness, both simplemindedness and simplistic attitudes towards almost everything and everyone in his life. James, why James had never really been much of a friend; he was a brother, through and through. So the idea that Sirius' friendships were the most important things in his life may seem preposterous to an outsider, but anyone who knew him, or knew of him, for any length of time, knew that was anything but true.
To put a very long story into it's shortest form, James had never died. His death was something Sirius hadn't doubted since the night he himself supposedly took the life of Peter, but upon discovering the shape Harry's patronus had taken at the lake, a hole in his past regretfully reopened. It seemed only fit to return and inspect where that stag had appeared, for a glimmer of hope in regards to the possibility of seeing James again was all it took for him to go back against the wishes of everyone else. Discovering James alive at the lake was not something Sirius had actually intended on doing, but alas his friend emerged from the treeline just as the last of the hopes Sirius had drained themselves from his system. These hopes, and his wildest dreams were turned reality when he saw him standing there. Post teary eyed reunion, it had been heartbreaking to learn of what James had gotten up to in those twelve years Sirius spent in Azkaban pondering endlessly. James had sadly, spent his time almost the exact same way; Dumbledore had pulled all the strings behind keeping him alone in none other than Grimmauld place with only his most dangerous thoughts for company, along with a sea of dark Black family artefacts and the memories attached to them. Sirius had found out through Minerva McGonagall, an infrequent visitor during James' imprisonment, that he had slept in Sirius' old room and hardly left it on the best of days, playing Sirius' old records to keep himself sane. James himself guiltily admitted to sneaking out in typical marauder fashion to steal both muggle and wizard newspapers, as Dumbledore had made the seemingly wise decisions to cut him off from civilisation in every way, including denying him his own son and friends and almost all his personal posessions, having only those snuck in at the hands of Minerva to remind him of the life he and his friends had been robbed of.
And as glad as he was to have his brother back in his life, Sirius was forced to admit to himself that James was not the same boy he used to be. He had aged like the rest of them of course, having grown out a badly trimmed beard and his hair, leaving it more untidy than he would have allowed himself to back in their days together, but his general behaviour had changed too. His voice no longer had the spring and life it used to, but rather it seemed to have permanently changed to the voice he used to use whenever he was tired, and he had grown outwards into his height, and was now a man who was doing his best to pretend he hadn't been utterly destroyed in spirit by the years of trauma forced upon him. He was still James; he made milder jokes and laughed less than before but when he did, you knew you had truly earned it. Harry and most of the order had been made aware of his existence since Sirius discovered him as Dumbledore knew that if he didnt tell them, Sirius most definitely would have anyway. He had been informed by order members who were forced to observe, from a distance, the closed off version of James, that he reserved this laugh for those who truly mattered to him, and that list was rather short. This is how people were around him now, no longer was he the energy in the room but rather the ticking time bomb who everyone was afraid to set off through mentioning the wrong thing at the wrong time.
He had done a good job of treating James the way these two brothers were meant to treat eachother, even after these seperate and rough years they had endured. He knew there was still topics even he couldn't speak to James about yet, which upset Sirius more than any other change about his best friend. Still, he knew the relationship they had was never one to be easily damaged beyond repair, and his determination to fix it was strong enough to keep it less tense than it would be if he had failed to acknowledge the clear differences in his friend. He had taken it upon himself to go to Dumbledore, the man who was in charge of almost everything James involved even if he hadn't directly admitted this himself, and suggested that a trip to godric's hollow was in order on which he would accompany his friend. The purpose of the trip was never explicitly outlined but both parties knew that no matter what excuse Sirius came up with the trip was purely mental health based, as James along with every other wizard, had been denied access to his former home since the day a certain wizard changed history in the top floor.
And although Dumbledore had denied this request after much discussion on the matter, Sirius still found himself walking shoulder to shoulder with James down a painfully farmiliar pathway, leading to his home. Had his friend known of the lack of permission for the outing, he mightn't have accepted the offer to visit, but it had been the most obvious choice to leave James in the dark about that too. It would do him some good, Sirius told himself as they paused together outside the dark house. He watched as James' eyes did a slow scan across the exterior of the house from their side of the knee-high wall surrounding it, before he inhaled sharply and unearthed a hand from inside his sea of clothing layers, unlatched the gate and pulled it open towards them. James did not wait for Sirius to trail in after him, for his eyes seemed to have fixated on the gaping hole in the roof. A fleeting moment of doubt infiltrated Sirius' previous confidence in the genius behind this excursion, but he re-invigorated that determination just as quick. This is for James, he thought, shuffling up the gravel pathway after his friend, and leaving dark footprints in the pure white snow that had been prior undisturbed. The overgrown bushes and intertwining vines were an eyesore the family living here wouldn't have tolerated in a past life, but this was the present. This family was far past living here. A dog barked somewhere in the distance as James reached the front door and hesitated to push it open. He instead turned and inspected the rosebush which had been planted parallel to the door frame.
'They held up quite well, they weren't lying when they said longlasting roses.' James regarded, pointing to the unruly bush and raising his eyebrows, and staring back at Sirius with a half-smile. He suppressed the urge to beam back at him.
It was difficult for both to vocalise their feelings upon stepping inside, so both chose to hold the silence, aside from Sirius uttering a spell that lit three candles in the room and surprisingly, started an initially sad looking flame on the charred wood in the fireplace. The sitting room lit up in a flickering orange glow, and for the first time they could both see the room once again. James had gravitated to the left of the room and was staring at the melancholy old muggle halloween decorations on the wall, and eyeing the stairs, making no advances towards them; it was clear that ascending them wasn't on the agenda.
Sirius had moved right and took to examining a dresser. It was positioned at a wide window, facing the front garden they had just trodden through to gain entry. Staring at the street from inside that window again brought on a sense of sour nostalgia within him, and his mind's eye perfectly re-imagined how it had looked back then in contrast to now, and the stark difference caused him to pull his gaze away from the abandoned moonlit version. Although it was all at arm's length away from him, Sirius felt something stopping him from actually picking up any of these old items, as though it would reopen all past wounds he had managed to close with great difficulty. He scanned the tops of the old picture frames, their gold detailings hidden by the thick, undisturbed dust. A perfect layer covered the dark oak dresser top and every article on it's surface. He turned and did a quick scan of the room and saw that this layer extended to the tops of every other furniture piece in the room. If not for this dust, and the peeling wallpaper, someone could almost trick themselves into believing nothing had changed. Untrue of course, as both knew all too well how everything had changed. To come crashing back to reality after convincing oneself of this for even a second was close to unbearable, so Sirius continued his distant inspection frequently reminding himself of the conditions under which he walked these halls again.
James had slowly advanced along in the direction of the kitchen, which was connected to the sitting room through an arch that James had always needed to crouch through. In the past he had gone so far as to mock-claim that it was discrimination towards him and "people of his disabilitating height". How he wished to be in a position to stupidly complain about a life he was happy living, again. This time around he wordlessly stepped through the arch, dipping his head ever so slightly. A quick search through the kitchen proved of no use to him, other than unearthing random baby bottles that had been used far less than originally anticipated, and discoving old bottles of wolfsbane stacked in a back cupboard. Thus far he hadn't found it within himself to collect any items he found. It was difficult enough to pick them up in the first place without regretting moving them out of their original placement. Seeing his posessions dust-covered and aged was also not easy to digest, although it did soothe him knowing that they lay intact and waiting for use. It nearly made him feel that he was once again waiting for others to meet him downstairs, as he sat and read whatever could take him to a world where there wasn't a war raging outside his window.
Back in the sitting room, hung on the wall was a now dirt-flecked mirror, one he had frequented in the past; staring into it again caused him to exhale slowly at the difference in the man who now stared back at him, and the horror in seeing the same eyes he had always seen but seeing the age in them just as clearly. He ripped his gaze from the reflection just as he saw Sirius turn and eye him from the other side of the room. He didn't have to stare back to see the concern shot in his direction, the same concern he had been fed since he had re-established himself as an order member. His insides boiled and he swiftly moved towards the tiny cupboard under the stairs which he opened, and pretended to have an interest in searching, while Sirius did a bad job of acting nonchalant and maneuvered around the couch towards the fireplace to inspect that too. Blowing lightly on the mantle piece of the fire was enough to send dust particles floating through the air around Sirius. He stared at the face of the clock resting on it, a family heirloom which had evidently not told the time in many years. These still clock arms alone sent a wave of grief through Sirius. He almost found it within himself to open the front and manually make them move again, if only to give it this ornate clock another shot at being correct more than twice in a day.
Under the stairs there were boxes, almost overspilling with items thrust inside during hasty spring cleaning sessions, and through these James pointlessly searched. His patience for mindlessly searching his old house was almost up, and the feeling of regret was just beginning to creep up on him. Mixed with anger of course, as much of his emotions were nowadays. The reasons for agreeing to accompany Sirius on this trip, that he had stored in the back of his mind for reminding himself of them whenever he was emotionally overwhelmed, were swiftly going stale which left him torn up inside at almost every turn. He brushed a dangling cobweb out of his face, and kneeling in the frame of this open door he extracted the next small, damp cardboard box, a box filled with near forgotten posessions. The orange light that beamed over his shoulder and into this box gleamed off some metal that would've gone otherwise unnoticed hidden under other items inside. James plucked the gleaming metal piece out and tossed the now uninteresting box to the floor. He turned it over and took in a slow, dust filled breath.
It was an old square picture frame, one of the most decorartive in the house, though it was one small enough to have been forgotten in this aged cardboard box under the stairs. James slowly moved his other hand up to clasp the frame on either side. He couldn't seem to tear his gaze from the face of the woman staring back at him from inside the gilded frame, not that he wanted to. This had always been his favourite picture of Lily anyway.
Sirius had just been scolding himself for getting too comfortable standing by the warmth of the fire when he was reminded of James's presence, through the noise of a box hitting the floor. He looked to his left and saw the other crouched at the cupboard under the stairs, rooting through said boxes. He disengaged himself from the lame heat the fire was projecting, and walked past James, bringing his circling of the sitting room to a close. He felt satisfied in the time they had spent in the house, and just as he was gearing up to suggest their departure, he got a proper look at what James was doing, and from this new side angle he could see what his friend had such a determined grip on. His heart sank, and he felt a dire need to intervene.
He swiped a thumb across the glass, clearing the dust layer that had developed since the last time he picked it up, and examined Lily's face as it moved slowly and joyfully in the tiny, enchanted photograph. A smile of reminiscence found it's way to James, as the radiance of her's and the joy it forever held invoked one on James's own face, despite the deep remorse he felt at seeing it again. He felt his hands begin to tremble lightly, despite the warmth of the room, and the firm grip he held on the frame.
'I loved my Lily flower.'
The words came as a whisper, and his voice broken. Though the words hadn't been spoken in sorrow, they emerged as the most pain filled ones he had ever spoken. It felt foolish to resist choking up at this point, but regardless he bit down on his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, finally forcing his gaze to leave the picture. His stubborn, hot tears insisted on rolling down his cheeks and he released the breath he didn't know he was holding, as he began to choke out his sobs.
'I loved her,' he choked, his voice thick and broken.
He now desperately clutched the ornate frame, and moved it to his chest, holding it there, for this was his only means of being close to her again.
In horror, Sirius watched as this scene unfolded metres away from him, yet he felt so glued to his spot in apprehension that he couldn't quite help. To see James reduced to a shaking mess, the one who had always been there to help him when he came to the Potter house for refuge from his torturous family, to be in the position where their roles were completely reversed for the first time in both of their lives, and to have to stand and watch it unfold, to stand there more helpless than he ever anticipated feeling in his adult life, was perhaps the most undesirable situation he could have placed himself in. Sirius took another moment to compose himself before crouching to James's side, and used a lot of strength to help him to his feet, as James struggled for composure and slid the framed picture into an inside pocket of his coat. He used an arm to grip James tight around the shoulder, and to begin walking them towards the front door.
'I... really loved her.' James uttered, a tear or two meandering down the trail on his cheek that every tear before had followed.
'I know you did, mate,' Sirius replied, feeling his own heart shattered in his chest, at the lost future that hung in the air, taunting them all. 'I know you did.'
He pulled open the front door with his free hand. Whatever heat that had been generated inside escaped and the house was once again filled with cold and lifeless air, and with a final swish of Sirius's wand, it was plunged back into darkness.