Chapter 1 - The Cockroaches, the Overdue Promise and the Married Couple

It was a nice flat, Sirius thought affectionately. It had served him well. He didn't mind the mold or the damp because it was more than that – it had been the Marauder's first real taste of freedom. At only seventeen, Sirius had a motorbike and a home (thanks to Uncle Alphard) and with these possessions came undisputed manhood. Whilst living with the Potters had been brilliant, there was nothing quite like having a place to oneself. Or not to oneself, he begrudgingly corrected, peering through the doorway to look at Lily, who was sat on the bed – his bed! – and reading. After she and Prongs had married, Sirius had been promised that it would only be for a couple of weeks before they found their own place. Six months on, he was sure that his back would never be the same from sleeping on the sofa. It wouldn't be quite so bad, he thought, if only the couple were a less affectionate. Quieter. You know. His symbol of freedom and boyish lack of responsibility was somewhat tarnished by the domestication that the married couple had brought in. Lily had insisted on cleaning once a week. It always smelled nice. There was a patterned rug and flowers on the windowsill. Essentially, it was hardly the flat – the resting place of reckless and rugged charm! – that should belong to Sirius Black. He glowered. The lack of Muggle band or Busty Witches Weekly posters deeply bothered him.

"Can I help you, Sirius?" Lily inquired, and looked up from the leather-bound book on her lap.

"No," he replied, loftily, assuming an innocent expression. "No."

"Good," Lily replied and returned to her task. The book was exceedingly dull, and if it weren't for the research task she'd been burdened with by the Order, she wouldn't be reading it at all. Perhaps it was due to this restlessness that she couldn't help but see him loitering in the doorway. "What is it you want?" she sighed, exasperated with her assignment rather than him.

"Nothing, I was just... thinking," he said, and entered the room. His room. He looked around.

"Must be strange. I can see why you have such a bemused look on your face."

"Very funny, Evans," he snapped, not unkindly. She smiled, and tucked a flyaway rope of copper behind her ear. He picked up a potted plant from the bedside table. "It's just... well, this is my bedroom. And there's a flowering plant in it. It's just not very... me, is it?"

"I was just trying to add an element of charm to the place," she explained, defensively. He raised his eyebrows.

"It has charm! Loads of it! An abundance of charm! Look at it!" He threw open his arms, gesturing at the peeling paint and the hairline cracks in the ceiling, still holding the little geranium whose petals shook violently. "Charming! Absolutely. Indisputably."

"Padfoot, I think you're getting charming and pitiful mixed up," she laughed and shut the book. He frowned.

"It's all well and good getting a plant," he told her, "but it least needs to be one that eats things. Or released a poisonous gas to intruders. Not something that has pink flowers. Pink!" He looked revolted.

"Don't you think we have enough violence in our lives without the plant life become murderous, too?"

"I just to live somewhere without patterned lampshades and boxes of James' mopey journals," he grumbled and placed the plant aggressively back onto a stable surface. Lily looked a little more sympathetic.

"We'll be out soon," she soothed, "it's just difficult, you know? We have been looking for a place, but with all the precautions at the moment..." Sirius nodded in response, tight lipped. It was moments like those that he couldn't quite realise how high the stakes were, what with the war and the Order and... marriage. Whilst most of that day he had been ceremoniously and impressively intoxicated, he retained clear memories of the actual ceremony, and he wouldn't be able to forget the feeling of betrayal as James Potter married Lily Evans. Yes, it was joyful and wonderful and a celebration of love between two people, but those two people were only eighteen years old and one of them was his best friend. Sirius –stupidly, he admitted – felt as if he'd lost Prongs that day, and to a vivacious red head who harboured a obvious dislike for his flat but stayed in it anyway.

XXX

Across London, James was also thinking of his wedding, although with a very different attitude. He crossed the entrance hall in the Ministry towards the floo network beside a short, ruddy wizard with spectacular eyebrows. He was slightly disconnected from the high-speed jargon about protective spells, and simply nodded thinking about how pleased Lily would be when he told her that they were moving. How pleased Padfoot would be, too, come to think of it. He couldn't understand why Sirius hadn't just temporarily (or not so temporarily, as it had turned out through none the couple's own fault) stayed with Remus. When he had suggested it, he had received a mumble about "werewolf" and "war" but Lily mused in the private of the night that the friends had had some form of quarrel. The phrase she'd used was "a lover's tiff", but James didn't over think it too much.

" – and you'll be moved in within a week!" the little wizard beamed and heartily shook James' hand. He thanked him in return and scooped a handful of Floo powder. He threw it into the fire and stepped into the emerald flames, announced Sirius' address as the destination, which in merely a few days would not be his address, too.

XXX

"Is that James back?" Lily shouted from the bedroom. She had heard a commotion in the living room pushed the books from her lap with unnecessary aggression, rushing out of the room. Sirius was standing in the barren lounge, James beside him in front of the fireplace, where smoke was still curling up the chimney from the floo, an excited grin pulling the corners of his mouth.

"Grab your coat, love," he grinned, "we're leaving".

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