"You're going, Sirius." Remus gave up trying to locate his dress robes in a pile of clothing and instead settled for robes of the darkest purple. He held them up to a frowning Sirius, who pushed them away, and Remus sighed. "I suppose you're right, they're sort of funeral-y…"
Sullenly, Sirius flopped on the bed as Remus resumed going through their closet. "I'm not going."
Remus clucked in disapproval, tossing a pale mauve robe back into the dark recesses of the closet. "And how do you think James will feel when you don't show up?"
"I don't know."
"And don't you want to see Harry?"
He'd struck a nerve, and Sirius's brow creased. "Yesss…"
"You're going. Ah!" Remus held up a deep blue robe with silver embroidery on the hem. "Well?"
Sirius sat up. "I suppose." He accepted the robes and wriggled out of the shirt he was wearing as Remus attempted to put the closet back in order. "I just don't understand why James didn't invite you."
"He didn't ask Peter either," Remus pointed out, scooping up a pair of boots. "From what I heard, it's just immediate family, a small sort of affair."
"I'm not – " Sirius cut himself off as he slipped the robes over his head.
"You're Harry's godfather, of course you're considered family."
He finished struggling with the robes and stood up, examining the way they fell over him. They were a little snug in the shoulders, but otherwise fit fine. Gathering up what he had been previously wearing and tossing it haphazardly in the direction of the laundry, he went over to the mirror, remarking carelessly, "I still think you should come."
"Sirius, I could never impose on James' and Lily's hospitality that way."
He shrugged. "Say you couldn't bear to be away from me."
Remus's tousled ginger head emerged from underneath the bed, smirking. "As much as that's true…"
"Say you can't abide the thought of a second without me." Sirius watched him in the mirror.
"Sirius…"
He caught Remus's gaze briefly in the mirror and then looked back to his own. His face was forlorn and ridiculous, and when he transferred his eyes back to where Remus had been there was only a pile of clothes.
Remus wrapped his arms around him, pushed his face into Sirius's neck and sighed deeply, so that the fragile inhalation shuddered through his entire body.
"Besides, I'm worried about leaving you alone here. James'll understand that; it's a valid concern, it was only last week when Peter – "
"Are you honestly concerned about me?" The words were agitated, but the voice was not, and his hands started to rub small ellipses over Sirius's stomach, watching the two of them in the mirror.
Sirius hesitated before he replied. "Yes."
"Then," Remus said, "you go and tell James you're worried. After the ceremony. I'm not coming along, however, because of some fancy you have about the Dark Lord desperately wanting me dead. I know you think I'm irresistible," roguish smile "but not everyone is Sirius Black."
"Pity."
"Indeed." Remus rubbed his cheek against Sirius's in a wolfish display of affection and Sirius growled in his throat.
"Bed?"
Remus shook his head and detached himself, smiling. "You'll ruin your robes, and besides, there isn't time. The ceremony starts in an hour. Now, if you'd Apparate like the rest of us…"
Sirius considered. Sex, and sacrificing his usual mode of transportation, or no sex, and his motorbike.
He chose the motorbike, but not without a lingering regret.
The ceremony consisted of a long and tiring speech given by a sour-looking warlock that oddly resembled the one that had married the Potters. Sirius rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying not to look bored or worse yet, fall asleep. When the warlock finished and reached out to take baby Harry from Lily's arms, he started screaming.
Jerked out of his stupor, Sirius grinned broadly. Atta boy… he thought, resisting the impulse to laugh as the infant Harry waved his chubby fists in sheer rage, turning an interesting shade of plum.
In the end James cast a nifty Soothing Spell over the baby and his yells subsided. James, however, had gone a sickly yellow colour and he whispered to Sirius as Lily patted his arm comfortingly,
"I don't like to use magic on him more than necessary. It makes me feel odd."
Sirius nodded. Magical control over another person – let alone a baby – was enough to give anyone the chills.
"And his parents have gifted him the name of Harry James Potter," the warlock was saying. "Born in the year of – "
Sirius leaned back over. "Are you sure he's not going to botch this?"
"There's plenty of precautions," James whispered back, shaking his head. "He'll be fine." But still his hands shook, and Lily took his arm to steady it. Following her cue, Sirius gently grasped his other hand and offered a comforting grin.
"It's going smashingly, mate, relax."
The warlock had finally shut up and now, with careful withered hands, summoned a fire in the bronze bowl before them. The flames leapt up in brilliant shades of red and gold.
"Ah," said the warlock. "Your son will be brave and live long."
"Get it over with," Sirius heard James grit from between clenched teeth.
The Soothing Spell must have worn off, because as the warlock passed Harry over the fire, the infant felt the heat of the flames and cried, causing James to start. But then he was out, not even charred by the smoke, and the warlock placed him in Lily's arms with a sour smile. He started to say something else, but at that moment the doors of the cathedral were flung open and a roaring filled the high, lonely room.
Squinting into the biting wind, Sirius could just make out a half dozen dark shapes. As they neared he recognized the robes and masks and shouted over the howling:
"JAMES, DEATH EATERS!"
The warlock's wrinkled face went white and he bolted for the back of the cathedral, flinging a door open that lead to the catacombs beneath. Wild-eyed, James turned on Lily, who was clutching her son to her chest, and she Disapparated with a hollow pop. Sirius pulled out his wand, trying to count the Death Eaters, but the conjured wind blew grit into his eyes and he swore impotently.
"There's at least five of them," he bellowed to James. "We can't stand and fight!"
"We have to!" James looked vaguely insane. "We can't let them find Lily!"
"Listen to me, James," Sirius cried hoarsely, thinking of the nasty sore throat he was going to develop, "we can slow them down, but we don't need to fight them. All we need to do is get back to your house. The wards Dumbledore put on it are strong enough to resist them even if they do track us."
James still appeared to be thinking, his glasses knocked askew, his wand up and quivering slightly as the Death Eaters neared.
"JAMES!"
"Alright!"
Sirius whirled, pointed his wand at the swirling winds that separated themselves and the Death Eaters and screamed, "MARE NECTARIS!"
Instantly the air transfigured into a sticky, sweet substance that trapped the Death Eaters firmly within its transparent prison. Sirius motioned to James. "They're immobilized, at least for now. Let's go."
They Apparated simultaneously, with two resounding cracks.
At the Potter residence, they were greeted by a shaking Lily, who looked about ready to hex them until they fully appeared.
James crushed her to himself while she cried, her wand clattering to the floor.
"What were you doing, James, I thought they'd killed you…" her words faded into racking sobs. Sirius stood nearby, watching uncomfortably.
"James," he ventured after awhile.
Still visibly upset, James met his questing gaze but did not release his wife.
"We need to owl the Ministry and Dumbledore."
"Yes yes, of course," Lily hiccupped, immediately pulling herself away from her husband. "But you don't think they'd follow – ?"
Sirius avoided her red, distraught eyes. "I don't know."
"I'll go," said James shortly, and left.
Lily took a moment to recover herself, and retrieving her wand with a deep breath, motioned to Sirius. "I've got some Nerve Potion in the kitchen."
He followed her and they each had a glassful of the frothy pink liquid to calm and ground themselves.
"You'll be staying for the night, Sirius? It's much too dangerous to be traveling," Lily finally said as she rinsed the glasses in the Muggle sink.
Uncomfortably he shifted in his chair. The Nerve Potion had taken away the shock of what had just happened, but his anxiety over Remus had, if anything, increased. He fought the urge to tear out his hair and tried to sound calm as he replied,
"Actually, I'm a bit worried over Remus. I don't want him staying the night alone – especially not after what just happened – "
"My goodness, I hadn't thought of that." Lily looked thoughtful. "Nor should Peter be alone. But he's still sharing his flat with that odd Russian man, yes?"
"Bulgarian, and I think so." Sirius stood. "I suppose I'll go ask James…"
"No need, I'm here." Looking haggard and far older than his twenty-odd years, James came in and slumped into a kitchen chair. "Owls are off and I put Concealment Charms on them. What were we saying?"
"Sirius wants to go home," Lily told him.
"I'm worried about Remus," he repeated for James' sake.
James' eyes still looked vacant, shell-shocked, as he replied, "Then let Remus come here. I don't mind having all the extra protection I can get, at least until I receive word from Dumbledore. And you two haven't had a proper stay here since the wedding."
"Ah yes," Sirius said. The whole of the wedding party had stayed at the Potters for a week, until an enraged James and an apologetic Lily had been forced to kick them out. "Yet that was nearly two years ago…can we have the guest bedroom again?" he joked weakly, and to his surprise a smile broke on James' face.
"I'd let you have it, but I don't quite think Harry's ready to learn how some of us don't make babies."
"I didn't know you put Harry in there."
James rose and motioned for Sirius to follow. "You can have the study. Come on."
Sirius followed him upstairs, past the former guest bedroom (now Harry's nursery – "Shh, he's sleeping," James whispered, "and I wish I were too,") and then into James' study, a roomy sort of place with a couch, desk, blazing fire, and wall-to-wall bookshelves.
"Here, I have your flat connected – " James tossed a handful of silvery powder into the fire and they both watched as Remus's face appeared.
"Hello, love," he greeted Sirius warmly. Then he saw James' expression and he sobered. "What's going on?"
"Remus, we need you to come to our house as quickly as possible."
Remus's face shuddered and nearly went out, his voice rippling as he replied, "Why? What happened?"
James shook his head. "Just go, Remus, we haven't time to explain."
"Well, I – " and abruptly the fire sputtered and died.
Alarmed, Sirius looked to James, who seemed equally astonished. "The connection must have been interrupted," he said tensely. "But he'll come, won't he?"
Sirius stared into the dead grate, his mind curiously whirling with the effects of the Nerve Potion. "Of course." But his voice was hollow.
There was a pause that hung heavily over the bookshelves and then slipped under the ornate carpet before James stepped forward and took Sirius into a crushing embrace.
"Thank you," he said feelingly. "And I'm glad you're here with us."
He allowed himself to hug James back and find comfort in the arms of someone other than his lover. "So am I."
James had suggested that Sirius take a shower, and he had, followed by Lily and then James. Little Harry had woken up after that and squalled to be fed, so that while Lily nursed him it was left to the freshly showered young men to take care of preparing dinner.
Anxious, Sirius continued to glance at the Muggle clock as he conjured and basted a tender duck in a sort of mint paste. It was one of Remus's recipes, and as he gently swept the basting brush over the crackling skin of the duck he thought of his lover's deft hands, and then pictured them whitish blue and drained of life, sticking out from under the ruins of their flat. It was not so ridiculous, he knew. Plenty of wizards and witches had been killed in their own homes, crumpled under their decimated houses.
But what, Sirius knew, was more likely was a ploy to appeal to Remus's wilder nature. A werewolf was nothing to snort at – they were notoriously hard to slay, savage and brutal and perfect killing machines could they be controlled. If Voldemort could somehow overcome Remus, trap him in his wolf form (and it had been done before) and use him as a puppet to do his bidding…Sirius knew he would never forgive himself, nor James, nor Lily, though they had absolutely no control over the situation.
James looked over his best friend with a gaze of concern, about to say something comforting, when the front door rattled as if the wind itself were trying to knock it down. Following it in quick succession were a series of loud, firm taps.
Sirius and James glanced at each other, both thinking the same thing while Lily, reclining in a kitchen chair with Harry at her breast, voiced it:
"They wouldn't bother knocking."
Nevertheless, James and Sirius approached the front door cautiously, with wands drawn. James muttered something at the door and it glowed a fire-red, then turned transparent to reveal a shivering Remus, wearing nothing but a shabby pair of his old robes and clutching in his right hand what appeared to be the handlebars of…
Sirius's motorbike. Dear Merlin, he'd forgotten his motorbike.
Forgetting all caution, he threw open the front door on the two of the things he loved best in the world and buried Remus's head in his chest.
Abashed and with chattering teeth, Remus grinned and attempted to pry Sirius off. "Shouldn't we at least get inside first?"
"Of course, of course…" Sirius reluctantly let go and instead took the handlebars of his beloved bike, inspecting it for damage. It was lightly dusted with flurries, but otherwise unharmed, and he quickly witched it to pocket-size and stuck it within his robes.
Inside, James and Lily hugged Remus and welcomed him warmly, chided him for coming so late, and ordered him to take a warm shower while Lily hunted up "some of James' old things." James flushed furiously – he was far larger than Remus, though in boyhood they'd been approximately the same size – and stammered something about Sirius needing to see that Remus ate properly.
When Remus finally excused himself to go shower, Sirius followed him, intent on giving his lover an earful.
"Why were you so late?" he demanded in the study, careful to keep his voice low as Lily had just put Harry down again.
"You broke up, Sirius, and I had no idea what happened. I was just about to change into something a bit more presentable when I received your owl, and then of course I had to go over to the cathedral to retrieve your bike. I'm sorry, I got here as fast as possible." Remus stopped shaking snow out of his boots into the fire, frowning at the expression on Sirius's face.
"We didn't send an owl," he said very carefully.
Remus scowled deeper. "Come off it. If you didn't owl, then who did? I mean, it wasn't signed, but – "
"James only oweled the Ministry and Dumbledore…no one else. What did it say? Where is it?" Sirius interrupted hastily.
"Just the details of the altercation at the cathedral. I burnt it as soon as I was through, just as you said." Remus watched his pacing lover carefully. "You really didn't owl me, did you."
"No. What did the owl look like?"
Remus shrugged, as always having the presence of mind not to panic in tight situations, and slipped his robe over his head before he answered. "It was just a common Screech owl, a little dark behind the ears, clipped beak. The warlock who performed the ceremony could have sent it."
"That's true." Sirius calmed a bit. Gnawing on his lower lip, he perched on the edge of James' desk to think, barely noticing a half-naked Remus crouch before the fire and begin to fastidiously scrub at his boots. "Should we tell them?"
"No need to alarm them when there mightn't be anything to be alarmed about. We'll let Dumbledore know and he can sort it out."
Sirius nodded, still immersed in thought, and shoved himself off of the desk. "I guess I'll go help set the table, then." He cast a glance back at Remus, whose tongue was clenched between his teeth as he beat at the stubborn boot.
"Alright. Sirius – ?"
"Hm?"
"Please tell Lily I'll wear whatever's lying around, as long as it isn't anything James was fond of wearing to the discotheque."
Sirius grinned, remembering the glittering gold robes. "Of course."
When dinner was finished, the dishes done, and Lily retired upstairs to feed Harry again, James led them to the living room to relax before bed, bringing with him mugs of cocoa and his pipe, which he packed with cherry tobacco and then lit. Remus accepted a mug and sipped at it cautiously, and Sirius, politely refusing smoke and drink, slouched next to Remus, brooding.
"I only wish…" James trailed off, staring into the fire.
"What?" Sirius's voice was uncharacteristically soft.
"I only wish we'd waited to have Harry. It's not right for him to be brought up in the midst of so much strife; never mind the danger to his own life. Lily's practically a wreck and even Dumbledore is disapproving, though he'd never say it."
Remus shifted in his seat slightly. "James, you have the right to bear children, time of darkness or no."
"I'm just worried he'll grow up to hate me for it," James said gloomily, staring into the fire. He pushed his wire-rimmed spectacles back from the end of his nose and for a minute again he was Prongs, messy-haired, sitting in the Gryffindor common room and worrying over some test he'd failed or some prank that was botched. "If he grows up," he added in a different tone.
Sirius almost rebuked him for it – almost – but the truth was hard enough to face, let alone accept. The truth was that each of them were likely to die under the Dark Lord's iron regime, and Harry, only a baby, what chance had he?
"We know nothing now but each of our own happiness," Remus said gently into the fire's cracking embers. "Harry is your happiness, James, whether he lives or dies; whether Lily or you or both die. Sirius may die, I may die, we may die together and let us hope for the last…but while we are alive we may do nothing about it, but clutch each second all the more close."
There was silence, and then Remus excused himself to bed.
Sirius and James sat in silence until Lily came down, holding Harry in her arms. She seemed about to give him to James to hold, but Sirius interrupted, saying, "Lily, may I please hold him for a minute?"
She seemed mildly surprised, but pleased. "Of course. He's still a little sleepy, but maybe he'll open his eyes for you."
James shifted, seeming to come alive. "He's got Lily's eyes, Sirius, green as emeralds."
Lily showed him how to hold the infant, with an arm firmly under the sleeping head and the other cradling the tiny body. It was warm and Sirius felt himself grinning goofily at it as it yawned, showing a pink little mouth, and stretched tiny bowed legs.
Then Harry's eyes opened. He did indeed have Lily's eyes, green as colored glass. They traveled over the room and then landed on Sirius, whereupon the baby's face stretched itself into a smile. A sympathetic expression, crafted by mirroring Sirius's grin, but it dissolved his limbs and made his eyes water. Gently he handed Harry back to Lily and stumbled upstairs, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.
Lily had thoughtfully laid out bedclothes for him and he changed quietly, noting that Remus was already asleep in a tangle of blankets and pillows in front of the fire, a book opened on its face in front of him and his reading glasses folded beside it. Self-sacrificing idiot, won't even take the couch…
Gently, so as not to disturb him, Sirius lifted Remus and carried him over to James' couch, which was squishy and crimson and just big enough for the both of them. An eerie sense of déjà vu swept over him as he softly lay Remus's sleeping form down and then covered him with the blankets.
Two years ago. Same house, same people, different room, no baby. Now that he thought about it, perhaps they weren't the same people after all. Sirius snatched up another blanket, threw it around himself and eased onto the couch next to Remus as bodily as he dared.
Remus rolled over and Sirius groaned. "I tried not to wake you," he said apologetically.
"I wasn't sleeping," Remus shot back, smiling slightly, and then reached over to take Sirius closer to him.
Close, incredibly close, chest to chest in the kitchen, the milk running around their bare feet, cold liquid making them gasp.
Sirius sighed now as they pressed against each other in intimate and familiar knowledge; Remus's cool hands beneath his thin shirt, two pairs of lips nestled just close enough so that they did not need to move to touch.
"James' couch," Remus said into his cheek, and slipped a hand down further, their breath twining in the close space.
"I know," Sirius said, and in a way what followed was lighthearted and perhaps even better than it might have been otherwise, as concern over the couch forced them to be creative and not hasty nor urgent as they usually were.
Later they drifted into sleep, Sirius turning his back to Remus so that the latter could hook a leg over both of Sirius's and hold him impossibly close.
They both awakened to the sound of a child's crying: high, lonely, and sounding as if it had been put on a scratchy loop. Remus was tense, his fingers tightening into Sirius's stomach, and finally, when the crying did not cease, Sirius swung his feet off the couch and stood, motioning to Remus.
"Let's see if we can't quiet him. Lily and James need to sleep."
They crept into the corridor, Remus; with his characteristic modesty, tying a bathrobe around his pyjamas, but as they neared the nursery door the crying abruptly stopped and was replaced by an unsure tenor voice, singing:
Hush, child,
let your mommy sleep into the night until we rise.
Hush, child,
let me soothe the shining tears that gather in your eyes…
"It's James," Sirius whispered, his eye pressed to the keyhole. A very disheveled looking James was rocking Harry, whose tiny balled fists flailed in frustration.
"What's he singing?" Remus asked, shivering in the cold air of the corridor.
Hush, child,
I won't leave, I'll stay with you to cross this Bridge of Sighs.
Hush, child,
I can't help the look of accusation in your eyes
The world is broken now
all in sorrow
wise men hang their heads…
"I don't know," Sirius said breathlessly. "It's Muggle."
James' head bent over his fretting son's, his face screwed into an expression of utter anguish, and Sirius tore himself away from the keyhole.
Silently as they had come they went back down the corridor and into the study, whereupon Sirius threw himself on the sofa and stared into the dying fire, something odd and heavy moving in his chest.
Remus settled next to him, sensing his distress, and wolfishly rubbing his comforting cheek against Sirius's.
"Moony," Sirius said after awhile to his lover (and he knew Remus, the erudite, would quickly and correctly answer him) "what is the 'Bridge of Sighs'?"
Puzzled, Remus nipped at his ear, but answered anyway: "A bridge in Italy. It connects the Prigioni, prisons, with the inquisitor's rooms in the main palace. It's nicknamed 'Bridge of Sighs' because of a Muggle poet, Lord Byron, who said it was inspired by the sighs of condemned prisoners as they were led through it to the executioner, having seen their last glimpse of the beauty of the river and the world."
Silence in the study. In the nursery, Harry started to squall again.
"Sirius? Sirius? Why are you crying?"
Hush, child,
let your mommy sleep into the night until we rise.
Hush, child,
All the strength I'll need to find I'll find inside your eyes
in your eyes…