Beautiful Day chap. 1

Beautiful Day
By Margot - cherry@time-stranger.net

A/N: This fic is devoted entirely to Sirius. It follows him from just before his Hogwarts graduation to the end of Book 6. This story isn't for the kids; it's got a generous share of cursing, graphic description, and... sad feelings. I'm rating this R just to be safe, although that may be a little excessive. Any romantic pairings you detect should be ignored for the greater good. Thanks to Nicole the Snape-loving beta reader!

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Chapter One - Broken Promise

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"Nobody else here baby
No one else here to blame
No one to point the finger
It's just you and me and the rain"

--- "If God Will Send His Angels," U2

**

"No, the one to the left of that.

"Your other left."

Sirius grinned as James tossed him a quick scowl, then turned his attention back to the midnight sky. It was like a thick, navy blanket, dotted everywhere with tiny glistening spots. The crescent moon lit the earth below it with a glare that contrasted violently with the darkness of the sky in which it was suspended, but it caused few shadows on the ground. The sweet, fresh scent of a late spring night filled the air and swept itself around the Hogwarts building, allowing itself to be a faint reminder of Sirius and James' present situation and feelings: calm, peaceful, enjoyable, but perhaps even too pleasant to be enjoyed for long.

Sirius pushed his stuffy black cloak off his shoulders and allowed the gentle June's breeze to swarm him. James leaned on his knees and stretched up, squinting, as if the few inches' difference somehow made the map of the night sky miles closer.

"Oh, there it is," James announced, sounding relieved. He pulled back off his knees into a more comfortable seating position. "Part of Canis Major. Brightest star in the sky."

"Right. Otherwise known as yours truly."

"It's beautiful. So much better looking than you."

James flashed his typical kilowatt grin as it became Sirius' turn to scowl disdainfully. Perched atop the tallest turret Hogwarts had to offer, the two could see the entire night sky as well as the dark ground below for miles. South of them, the small village of Hogsmeade offered up dozens of clusters of small white and yellow lights, like tiny stars that had been grounded. North was the Forbidden Forest, its trees rustling silently as the breeze swept through it; now, strangely, owning up to its name more than ever in the pitch black that engulfed it. It was a magnificent view, one that Hogwarts students enjoyed on rare occasions. The fact that it was out of bounds to all students at night hadn't particularly bothered Sirius and James; a week away from graduation, what could possibly happen if they were caught? Detention?

Unlikely.

A long silence was exchanged between the two as they both watched the sky. A chance, presumably, to reflect on their last seven years, on the path that lay before them, and on each other. The silence was finally broken by James.

"This is boring."

"Yeah."

Another, much briefer silence endured. Once again, it was James who broke it. His face lit up with another wild grin.

"I've got a brilliant idea."

Sirius coughed lightly. James always had "brilliant ideas," closely resembling science experiments, such as "Let's put a Knut on the Hogsmeade station train tracks and see what happens," "Let's fly our broomsticks, only facing the tail end," "Let's see if we can't help Nearly Headless Nick get the rest of his head off," and "Let's become Animagi."

Not that Sirius didn't enjoy conducting James' many mad science experiments; he always enjoyed the delighted responses they elicited from the other Gryffindors. Always a sucker for a laugh, he'd even allowed James to conduct an experimental charm on his hair in sixth year, knowing full well that his friends would be delighted to see his once-black hair flash various shades of red, yellow, and blue throughout the day's classes. He'd gotten a full week's detention, but never regretted a moment of it.

"Well, want to hear it?" James pestered.

"Yeah."

"Okay, listen. I'll ask you any question I want and you have to answer me. Then you can ask me a question and I have to answer you." Putting heavy emphasis on each "I," "me," and "you" he said, James sounded like a delighted four-year old explaining the rules of Tag or Hide-and-Seek. In truth, Sirius didn't doubt that that was exactly how James felt, but he snorted derisively anyway.

"That's Truth or Dare, only without the Dare part."

"Thank you for clarifying that. Come oooon," James whined, "I want to plaaaaaaay the gaaaaaame-"

"All right, all right already," Sirius laughed. "But I'm going to ask first."

"Fine." The two sat in silence for a moment, side by side, facing the Forbidden Forest. "Well? Ask!"

"All right! I'm just trying to come up with a good one. Okay... er... fine." James grinned in anticipation. "Do you... er... are you in love with Lily?"

There was a pause, and James rolled his eyes, grinning. "Oh yes, that was a great question. Really got me revealing my deepest, darkest secrets."

Sirius narrowed his eyes but held back a grin of his own. "Just answer the question."

"Yes, of course!" James cried, surprised that Sirius even had to question him. "It's not exactly something I try to hide! I mean, it's impossible to miss my proclamations of undying love in the Great Hall every morning. They're pretty hard to miss, what with the other students singing them along with me and all."

"No, not the showy crap you do every morning. I mean real love, like the kind in books. That sort."

James nodded in understanding. "Oh, the cheesy kind, you mean."

"That's what I mean."

There was a hesitation, albeit much longer than the previous. Sirius sat quietly, back hunched, legs crossed, and dug faint scars into the stony ground with his fingernails while he waited for James' response. After a moment, James stretched out his legs and put his hands behind him, leaning his weight onto them and looking up into the sky.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"And she knows."

"Yeah." James smiled a little. "I don't just belt it out at the top of my lungs every morning before breakfast. I tell her in private, too. Not in song, though. Serious. Honest-like. I tell her that I love her."

Sirius didn't reply.

"Can you imagine someone like me having a steady girlfriend for two years?" James scoffed loudly. "But it's weird. Everyone says that teenagers don't fall in love, that they don't really know what love is. But they don't know what they're talking about. I think in a little while... like a few months down the line, maybe..." he drummed his fingers on the ground, obviously skirting the issue, "I'll ask her to marry me."

Sirius stared. "What- you're serious?"

James turned his head to face Sirius. All previous traces of a smile or a laugh were gone from his face. "Never been more serious in my life."

"But you're only eighteen!"

"Hey! I said in a few months!"

Sirius continued to stare, openmouthed, at James. James simply stared back. The stares were intense, challenging, like one was daring the other to speak first. Then, breaking the silence, Sirius chuckled quietly. Then louder. Finally, he was laughing, laughing at the top of his lungs; laughing at the ridiculousness of his best friend, who had always been the best at his studies, the best at Quidditch, the loudest and nicest and funniest person of any of Hogwarts' students, but for all his fact-quoting and Quaffle-catching abilities, he seemed to have very little intelligence and even less sense.

Sirius finally stopped laughing but his grin remained on his face. "So you're going to get married the moment you hit nineteen?"

James looked insulted. "Maybe. If she wants."

"Probably not, she's got more sense than you."

James snorted in response. "That's true." He cocked his head at Sirius. "Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life? Want a piece of me to yourself?"

Sirius pulled a face. "I'm no puff. Who do I look like, Remus Lupin?"

"Hey," a voice suddenly came from behind them, making them jump, "I'm not a puff. Even if I was, James is hardly my type."

Sirius laughed again, craning his neck around towards the source of the voice. "Remus, what the hell are you doing here? We thought you were asleep!"

"Obviously." Remus grinned jovially, hoisting himself up the ladder and onto the turret's top to join his friends. The edges of his patched-up cloak were considerably frayed and his dusty blond hair hung raggedly around his face, leaving him to be much shabbier-looking than his two friends but no less mischievous and fun-loving. His dark brown eyes sparkled, especially noticeable against his pale skin, as he scooted over to James and Sirius like a master card-counter joining a group of amateur Blackjack players. "What are we playing?"

"Truth or Truth."

"Cool," Remus nodded knowledgeably, settling himself behind James and Sirius, "count me in."

Sirius looked him over. "You've played before?"

"No, but I know how to play. Someone asks you a question and you answer it, right? Not exactly rocket science."

"Okay, join the fun," James smiled. "Sirius, it's your turn."

"All right, let's have a go."

"Okay, er... all right, here's one: why do you live with your aunt?"

The grin from Sirius' face quickly dissolved, his face turning stoic. He turned from his two friends to look out over the Forbidden Forest, his eyes clouding over. "My mum died when I was nine, I thought you knew that," he replied quietly.

Remus shook his head, picking up on the obvious signal that this was not a topic Sirius enjoyed discussing, but James seemed to miss it and continued on. "What about your dad, though?"

There was a long and enduring silence. Too many of these damn things tonight, Sirius thought to himself in slight frustration. He drew his long legs up towards his chest and rested his chin on his knees, hugging them close to the rest of his body. His jet-black hair fringe hung forward in front of his eyes, hiding them from his friends. He was silent as he stared ahead, as were the other two while they waited for Sirius' answer.

"Dad's... I mean, Father's..." Sirius drew his head up, carrying on a sarcastic tone. "Father's a Death Eater, so my aunt took me in."

Sirius could feel Remus' eyes boring into his back. "... don't joke about that sort of thing," he started cautiously. Sirius sneered in reply.

"I wouldn't."

"He's really...?"

"That's what I said," Sirius stated, putting on a nonchalant tone that the others couldn't decipher. "Father joined up with You-Know-Who after mum died, that's when my aunt came and took me away from... Father."

It was James who spoke first. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Just not the sort of thing you tell your friends, I suppose."

"But you tell your friends everything!"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Well, obviously not."

James through a side glance at Remus and tapped his knuckles against the ground. His intense brown eyes glittered earnestly, as they usually did when faced with a serious situation. "Okay, I'm sorry I asked. But I thought we established, a long time ago, that all of us could tell the rest of us our secrets and not be ashamed of them. Right, Moony?"

Remus nodded in agreement, although clearly he was a little resented that James had used his "lycanthropic predicament," as he preferred it, to get his own ass out of trouble.

"Yeah, I know," Sirius replied, "but it just didn't seem that important."

"I'd say it's important, you prat! Your dad's a Death Eater? Jeez. Remind me to stay away from you."

"What-"

James laughed. "I was just joking, Sirius. Padfoot." He grinned stupidly again, causing Remus to snort into his hand. "Look, let's make a promise: we tell each other important secrets." He coughed gingerly for a moment and glanced away. "Er, except when it comes to our girlfriends. My girlfriend." His friends snorted. "We'll keep each other's secrets. We'll help each other out. And we'll look out for each other. All right?"

"How poignant," Remus grinned, but nodded in agreement all the same. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed reluctant. He smiled warily.

"Promises were meant to be broken, James."

"Rules were meant to be broken," James smiled, "we established that a long time ago, too. Promises were meant to be kept."

Sirius looked James over. No sense in his head, none at all. He smiled back.

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Promise it!" James demanded.

"Okay, okay! I promise."

"Me too," Remus interjected, scooting himself closer to his friends.

"Me three," James said finally. "Too bad Peter isn't here," he added as an afterthought, but shrugged simply. "Eh, doesn't matter anyway. So, it's a promise between the three of us, then. We'll look out for each other."

"That's a promise," Sirius stated. The three friends all exchanged anxious glances, then suddenly broke out into laughter... perhaps partly to relieve the tension between them, but mostly because of their complete inability to take each other seriously. Their laughter rang out, spilling over the turret and over the trees of the Forbidden Forest. It was surprising, looking back, that the sound of their laughter woke no one. But they couldn't help themselves; despite the utter seriousness of their conversation, its true impact, the ripples it had left behind, they had to laugh. There was nothing else to do but sit and enjoy each other's company as much as they could. It might have been the last time that the three of them would be together, able to enjoy themselves as they were now.

The bittersweet laughter dissolved and all three turned their eyes upward, refocusing themselves on the starry map of the sky. They sat in silence for a period of time none of them could later be sure of, listening to the silence that surrounded them on all sides and watching, waiting... for nothing.

*******

"James, don't let it be me."

"We need you-"

"No. It's... it's not a good idea. It's so obvious, he'll think of it immediately. He'll know for sure it's me. He'll kill me. And when he does, he'll extract the secret and come for you. I've got an idea, though: make me the decoy Secret-Keeper. Tell everyone that I'm the real Secret-Keeper, but use someone else. When You-Know... I mean, Volde... whatever, he'll come for me and torture all he wants, but I won't be able to tell him anything. I won't be under the charm, he won't be able to use the counter-spell on me when I'm dead."

"Sirius, don't say that! You make it sound so hopeless!"

"I'm sorry, Lily. I just... there's nothing else to say."

"If not you, then who?"

"What about Remus Lupin?"

"He... I think he's a spy."

"Remus? Moony? He wouldn't... he wouldn't do that to us!"

"I heard it, though. Maybe it's just a rumour. I didn't believe it at first, but... I don't even know anymore. I don't know what to believe."

"But if not him..."

"Two words: Peter Pettigrew."

"Peter?"

"Are you serious?"

"Just think about it for a minute. He's not very strong, not exactly known for his magic skills, is he? No one would suspect him, not a soul. Trust me, the two of you and Harry are safe."

Sirius went over his two day-old conversation with James and Lily for what felt like the millionth time as he traipsed back and forth across the living room in his small London flat. He ignored the smoky smell trailing from the fireplace and the faint, almost inaudible sound of the radio from the next room. An overwhelming sense of impatience rushed through his blood and into his head. His legs were starting to ache from walking and standing for so long, and he finally collapsed into a cushy armchair.

There's no reason for you to be so anxious. Voldemort won't come for Peter.

Sirius got back to his feet, then fell into the chair again, then stood up once more. He made a fist, then relaxed it. He paced on the spot in frustration, eager to get his mind off his anxiousness. His eyes darted about the room, desperate for something on which they could focus rather than allow his brain to pester him with endless worrying. He brushed his black hair out of his wide, brown eyes, allowing for an unobstructed view of...

The bookshelf. He nearly sprinted across the room to get over to it. His eyes skimmed across the shelves, searching for a title of interest. They finally came to rest on an ancient-looking, slightly beaten book with a thick spine, bound with worn red leather. A small golden ribbon was visible coming out of the spine, placed randomly within the pages of the book. Its title was printed in regal, golden letters along the spine:

Hogwarts Yearbook: 1978.

He stared at the book for a moment, then, letting out a small sigh, yanked it from the shelf and held it in both his hands. He flipped it open to the page with the small golden ribbon. The picture that met his eyes almost cut off his air. He read the title: Graduating Class of 1978: Gryffindor. About twenty students were crowded together in the black and white photograph, all grinning and waving up at Sirius. He nearly laughed as Photo-Peter tried to clamour up Photo-James and Photo-Remus in order to be seen, then finally pushed his head between their two bodies and grinned sheepishly. And there, with his arms draped around Photo-James to his left and a pretty, blushing girl whose name Sirius had long forgotten to his right, was Photo-Sirius, only seventeen years old. He looked up at the real Sirius and began to wave maniacally, occasionally throwing surreptitious glances at the girl to his right, who continued to blush a dark gray.

There they were... all his friends, exactly as they were as seventh years. Not a worry in the world. Sure, there had been Voldemort, but they hadn't been afraid of him. They hadn't been afraid of anything. The fearless Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

Now they were afraid of everything. Everything and everyone. Even each other.

He continued to watch the picture for a few more moments. God dammit. There's no reason to be so afraid.

He slammed the book shut, thrust it back into the shelf, and, grabbing his cloak, flew out the door.

*******

"Peter? Peter, are you home?" Sirius shouted at the door of Peter Pettigrew's tiny house. There was no response from inside and no light shining out of the windows, despite the darkness from outside. Sirius pounded on the door with his fist, still to no avail.

"Screw this," he muttered in frustration, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the door. "Alohomora!" The doorknob quickly twisted itself in response to Sirius' command and the door sprang open, all too easily. Sirius stared at the door for a moment, wondering why it had succumbed so easily to his spell, a slight sense of alarm growing inside him. He cautiously stepped into the house, barely noticing Peter's missing cloak and shoes. The lights in the corridor and all the rooms were off. "Peter? Peter! This isn't a joke!" He shouted again into the noiseless house. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath. "Wormtail, this isn't bloody funny!"

He stepped into the first of only three rooms in the house, the living room. It was unusually clean for someone like Peter to have maintained; the pillows were neatly arranged on the couch, which looked surprisingly unused. Pictures of Peter's family, his mother, his friends, and a Hogwarts diploma were displayed above the mantel of the fireplace. Sirius stepped towards it, unsure of where else to go. He placed his hand on the mantelpiece, squinting questioningly at the fireplace itself.

Suddenly, he froze. As his hand touched the mantel, a chill suddenly flowed through his veins. His eyes widened... something happened here. He glanced at his feet; black ashes were scattered all around the floor, with slight depressions made in the pile closest to the fireplace, as if someone had stepped in them. Sirius looked, with growing horror, along the length of the carpet and noticed light, ashy footprints every few feet.

The most overwhelming and horrible realization hit him like a freight train.

Voldemort hadn't come for Peter. Peter had gone to Voldemort.

Just as quickly as he had entered, Sirius left.

*******

Faster.

FASTER.

Sirius urged his motorcycle onwards, pleading with it to fly faster through the sky en route to Godric's Hollow.

Before Peter can...

Before Voldemort...

He couldn't even bring himself to think the words. Aggravated with his own weak will, he swiped at his eyes.

There. The first lights of Godric's Hollow. The Potters' house would be just beyond the hill...

At least, it would have been. If it had still been standing.

Sirius, horrified, nearly fell off his motorcycle at the sight of it. He regained his tight grip on the cycle's handles and turned it downwards, its wheels skimming the tall grass as it sped down the hill. He had barely reached its foot when he gave up; the motorcycle's wheels touched the ground and it rapidly decelerated, stumbling and sputtering before toppling onto its side. Sirius leapt off it and half-stumbled, half-ran the rest of the hill's length to the ruins of the Potters' house.

He stared at it, numb to his core. The house had been utterly devastated; not a single foundation was left standing. It was almost as if the house had collapsed on itself. Boards and bricks had been hurled about the property as if a bomb had set off. Pieces of white wood and paint chips lay everywhere and a fine layer of dust and ash had settled over everything.

The motorcycle had magically turned itself off behind him, but Sirius took no notice. He couldn't hear a single sound, couldn't see a single thing except the ruins of the house before him. He took one cautious step into the planks, followed by another, and stopped, staring at the destruction beneath his feet.

The seconds were bitter cold and passed like hours, like he was floating in a sea of ice. James...?

"James?" Sirius had meant to shout it, cry it out, scream it, but it had come out in a meek, disbelieving whisper. "James?" He repeated, intending it to be louder, but it had only come out quieter. His eyes desperately searched the ruins for some sort of sign of his friend, but when it met his eyes, he felt his stomach contract as if to vomit.

A hand, limply grasping a thin, broken wand, was lying on a plank of wood. The arm on which it was presumably attached was buried beneath the white rubble. Sirius stumbled towards it and, falling to his knees, furiously dug the rubble away. A white-sleeved arm, then a shoulder... Sirius continued to dig frantically and when he finished, he collapsed forward onto his hands, breathing deeply and blinking the disbelief out of his eyes.

James' body was lying, chest down, in the rubble. He showed no signs of consciousness. His head was twisted as if he was looking up at his outstretched hand. His pale cheek bore a deep cut and small spots of blood dotted his dirty white shirt. His eyes were, mercifully, closed. White dust covered his black hair, now matted with sweat against his scalp and caked with blood.

Sirius stared at the body, his mouth hanging slightly open. The frantic numbness that had been growing in the pit of his stomach suddenly exploded and consumed his entire body. He moved a trembling hand, two fingers loosely extended, towards James' throat and searched for a pulse. There was none.

"James..." he started quietly, gently nudging his best friend's limp body. "James, wake up... look what they did to your house... James..."

James did not move.

"JAMES!!" Sirius screamed. "Wake up, you bastard!!" Breathing hard, he glared in horror at the unmoving body before him. "James!! James..." his desperate cries soon dissolved into chest-convulsing sobs and he bit his lip, unable to stop his tears from flowing. His hair fell over his eyes, covering them from the world, but he didn't care. He lifted one hand off the rubble to cover his eyes, and it soon became drenched with tears as a frightening and unfamiliar despair took control of his body.

He wasn't sure how long he had been kneeling there, crying thoughtlessly into his hand, but all he knew was, when he finally opened his eyes, James had still not moved. He watched the lifeless body for another moment, then got to his feet and, wiping his eyes in frustration, continued stepping through the ruins.

A flash of dark red. Lily.

Sirius was too numb with horror, shock, confusion, he barely batted an eyelash as he trudged his way over to her. He dug through the rubble once more to uncover her body. She was lying crouched in a fetal position, her hair strewn everywhere and her eyes closed, covering something wrapped in a blanket. Sirius touched her face gently, a new feeling of painful loss swelling inside him, and moved his fingers down to her throat. No pulse. She was dead, too.

One more... one more to find...

He suddenly spotted the bundle of blankets half-covered by Lily's arm. He gently moved her arm aside and lifted the bundle into his arms... he'd found the last one.

He pushed aside some of the blankets and uncovered the face of a baby, no more than ten months old. The baby's black hair was matted against its head and its eyes were shut, just like the eyes of its parents. There was an etched line of red on its forehead in a jagged shape, a few spots of dried blood trailing from the tiny scar.

Sirius hopelessly pressed his fingers against the baby's neck and felt an almost insignificant thumping against them. His own heart began to beat rapidly and he frantically fished his wand out of his pocket. With a trembling hand, he held the wand's tip close to the baby's eyes. "Enervate," he whispered in a shaking voice. The baby's eyes wavered open uncertainly and after a mere second, it began to whimper quietly.

Jesus...

Sirius hugged the baby close to his chest and closed his eyes. "It's over," he whispered to whimpering child, "everything. All of it. It's over."

He continued to hold the baby, afraid to let go, afraid to look away and have the sight of his friends' dead bodies meet his eyes again, afraid to acknowledge what it was that had truly ended.