Hiii! It's been a while. If you've found yourself here because of The Pureblood Pretense and Rigel Black aka the greatest literary character ever created, thanks to Violet, then you've come to the right place! I started this little fic early this year when I reread TPP, but didn't finished it until now (since I'm in the process of rereading it again lol). This takes place before anything that happens in The Pureblood Pretense, and focuses on Sirius after the death of Diana. It's sad. So, if you've read Just Dinner and After Dinner lol this one is going to be a bit different.

If you haven't heard of The Pureblood Pretense and find yourself over here, well first...you need to stop what you're doing and go over and read the best Harry Potter fanfic I have ever read! Trust me, you're doing yourself a favour. Then maybe come back and read this. Though you can read it before.

Obviously, I don't own the characters or world building or anything like that. The characters belong to JK Rowling, Tamora Pierce, and Violet of course (whose added her own twists and made it her own). I'm just satisfying all of you who are patiently waiting for a new chapter :)

3 years ago...

Sirius swirled his glass of Firewhisky, his grey eyes caught for a second in the light refracted from the crystal. A handful of glowing embers gazed up at him miserably from the fireplace, their bright red colour burning with a fierce determination. He stared until his eyes crossed and the room blurred. The old grandfather clock chimed the hour, the sound trickling into the quiet.

He let out a long sigh. It was late. But he couldn't get himself to climb those stairs. Every night he had the same argument with himself; he could sleep in this chair by the dying fire, or sleep in an empty, cold, and dark room. If it hadn't been for Archie finding him asleep in this same position, just a few days earlier, Sirius was almost tempted to stay.

He had woken up that morning, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and the smell of burned coffee drifting in from the kitchen. Archie had smiled when he walked in, bleary-eyed, the blanket still covering his shoulders.

"I made cereal, Dad!" he had said, his grey eyes, so much like Sirius' own, crinkling proudly.

Sirius had smiled back, ruffling Archie's hair fondly. But he didn't miss the flicker of worry that flashed through his son's eyes. He had felt guilty the entire day. And when he suddenly woke up at 3 am the next morning, in the same chair, he had forced himself up and crept up those stairs and into that room.

When Remus came by the following afternoon, a plate of homemade brownies in his hands, Sirius knew that Archie had said something. He didn't blame him. He would have done the same. So, while Archie and Harry devoured the brownies in the kitchen, Remus and Sirius sat in the front drawing room, sipping tea in silence.

"I brought some Sleeping Tonic," Remus had said quietly.

Sirius had stared at his friend for a long minute, saying nothing. He could almost see himself in the reflection from the window on the far side of the room. The dark circles under his eyes were almost as black as his name.

"I'm fine," he had replied, knowing even then that it didn't sound convincing.

"Archie told Harry and Harry told Lily."

"I assumed as much," Sirius had replied after a moment, his voice flat and emotionless.

"Are you sure––"

"Yes."

Remus had sighed then, running a hand through his light brown hair. "You can stay at my place. Or with James and Lily."

Sirius had snorted at that. "Forever?"

"Yes," Remus had said firmly. "If you needed to, forever."

"I can't do that, Moony. You know that."

"For a little while then. Until Lily and I can clean up the room––"

"No!" Sirius had growled, regretting it instantly as the chatter from the kitchen immediately ceased. He buried his face in his hands, focusing on his breathing for a minute. "Just go," he had whispered.

Remus had stood up and walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Sirius. Yes, a part of you is gone forever, but we're still here. And we care. Just let us care, okay?"

And he had left.

Sirius tipped back his head and swallowed the last of the Firewhisky, grimacing as the liquid burned down his throat. He limited himself to two glasses every night, taking small sips and savouring the acrid taste. It didn't help much. That feeling he remembered getting in his youth––of being invincible––wasn't there. But drinking just felt right. It was what people did. Maybe more than he was doing, but Sirius wasn't daft. He had a child to take care of, even though he hadn't done much taking-caring the past month.

He shook his head roughly, trying to ignore the guilt pounding in his heart, and slowly stood up, his back cracking. The last of the embers fell away, the bright red disappearing with a pop, and leaving piles of ash behind. He was left in the dark.

It took less time than Sirius wanted to get to the bedroom. He stood outside, his hand wrapped around the doorknob, hesitating. His heart skipped faster, almost tricking him into hoping she would be there, sitting in bed with a book, her face lighting up when she saw him. Hope. It was just a fancy word for lies. Except these were lies that made you feel better for a second, despite knowing deep down inside that they would never come true.

And the truth was that she was dead.

Moaning, Sirius rested his forehead against the rough wood of the door, clenching his teeth until his jaw hurt. His shoulders shook, but he refused to cry. He couldn't wake up Archie.

Turning the doorknob, he slipped into the room, keeping his eyes downcast. Tiny dust particles puffed up from the carpet under his feet, but Sirius didn't need to see to find his way to the large four-poster bed. The sheets were rumpled on the side closest to him, a dent in the pillow the only proof that this room hadn't been entirely abandoned. But the place had lost all its warmth and laughter months ago. The cold seemed to creep in through the windows, settling into the dark corners, writhing around the curtains and blankets, and sinking into the floor itself. He couldn't remember the last time this place had felt sunlight.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Sirius pulled off his shoes, letting them fall with a soft thud. His head pounded slightly, but he didn't want to lie down just yet. Digging his toes into the soft carpet, he felt something cold and hard against his heel. It took all that he had to not jump and cry out. Reaching down he felt around for a second before his hand closed on a wooden chess piece. It was a knight, carved in a rich mahogany, and a piece from Archie's chess set that had gone missing a while back. Sirius stood up, almost with a sigh of relief. He could put off sleeping for a bit longer.

Trudging back to the door, he crept out of his room, down the hallway and up a landing towards Archie's bedroom.

In the beginning, Archie had had trouble sleeping. And Sirius, who couldn't sleep at all, hadn't known what to do. Every night, he would hear tiny footsteps pacing back and forth, or find Archie in the Black family library, pouring over books that were way too difficult for someone of his age to read. And whenever he would catch Archie awake, Archie would just shrug, the dark circles under his eyes so prominent, and say that he wasn't tired.

Harry had taken it upon herself to do something, showing up in the Floo room, a pillow tucked under one arm, her chin set determinedly, and had pronounced that it wasn't fair that Archie could stay up all night reading when she had to sleep. And before Sirius could ask what her parents would say, she had disappeared into the library. When Sirius went to check in on them around midnight, he found both children curled up in an armchair sleeping. Eventually, Harry managed to coax Archie to his room every night, and as soon as he was asleep, she'd sneak back to the Floo room to go home.

"I can't have him becoming too dependent on me," she would say to Sirius on her way down the stairs. And while Sirius partly agreed, he also worried that Archie would begin to depend on no one, not even his father.

The curtains had been left open, allowing the pale light of the moon to fall onto Archie's sleeping form, turning his dark hair into shades of silver. Sirius watched the rise and fall of Archie's chest, counting each breath in his head. There was so much life still left in the world, but Sirius felt like he walked a fine line between the world of the living and the world of the dead.

Tip-toeing over to the nightstand, Sirius gently placed the chess piece into the empty spot on the board. As he turned to leave, he heard the creak of the bed and the whisper of sheets as Archie turned in his sleep. Freezing––not wanting to be caught in his son's room in the middle of the night––Sirius glanced over at the bed. Archie had curled himself up into a ball on his side, his one hand tucked under his cheek, his tearstained face lit up in the silvery light from the window.

Sirius felt his throat tighten. His eyes stung before the tears came, but he didn't bother brushing them aside. He felt guilt, cold and heavy, settle in his chest, and he couldn't breathe for a second. Had Archie been crying himself to sleep all this time? And Sirius hadn't noticed? Hadn't once ever thought that maybe Archie needed him now more than ever?

He shouldn't have assumed that since Archie was sleeping at night, that everything was fine. She was his mother after all, and though they knew there was no cure for the wasting disease, her death hadn't been easy. Sirius clenched his fist, the guilt quickly turning into disgust at himself. And while Remus' calm, sensible voice echoed in his head, telling him it wasn't his fault and that anyone in his situation would have acted the same way, Sirius couldn't accept that. He needed to do better. What kind of father was he if he closed himself up to the only part of him and Diana that now remained?

Hesitating for only a second, Sirius stepped closer to the bed before sitting down carefully. He brushed away Archie's long hair from his face, then wiped away the tear tracks with his thumb, before bending down to kiss his forehead twice, one from him and one from Diana, just like they used to do every night. He made a promise right there that things would change.

"Mmm…" Archie suddenly mumbled in his sleep, his hand reaching up to touch Sirius' which still cradled his son's face. "Dad?"

"Shhh…" hushed Sirius. "It's alright, pup. I'm here."

Archie grabbed Sirius' hand and pulled it close like he was clutching onto a teddy bear. Sirius grinned, before slipping under the covers and pulling Archie close to his chest, and before long, he was fast asleep.

So...how was that? A little sad right? I'm thinking of doing another Sirius POV fic that takes place after Sirius receives a certain letter from Rigel in TPP! Slowly making my way through the books, so there's the possibility I might be writing more!