A/N: Um…this is the original version of a story I hope to have posted soon, entitled Not This Time, which as I'm sure you'll be able to see, diverged and turned into something completely different. But I have this story still sitting around on my computer, and I figured there was no harm in posting it, so here it is. I just gave it a new name. Review please! With cherries on top?
Oh! And I'm so sorry to have forgotten, but even though she hasn't actually betaed this story, thanks always to RandomReader90! And thanks for all the help on As Long as You Hold Me as well. I'll be sure to add a note there also.
Pairings: James/Lily. You'll notice with my other stories I've been posting lately that I'm on a distinct Remus/Sirius theme. There is nothing to suggest that here, but that's up to your own interpretation. The only true pairing that you can clearly see will be J/L.
Warnings: A small amount of swearing. Like, teeny tiny. I think you should all just accept that pretty much all my fics are going to have people swearing in them.
Disclaimer: Still not JK Rowling, and therefore still not in ownership of the Harry Potter franchise. Damn it. The title is taken from a line in the song, "There Goes My Life", by Kenny Chesney, because looking back on it, I realized that the song fits the story rather well. And no, the title has nothing to do with the actual goings-on in the fic itself.
Fumbles Up Those Stairs
Sirius Black had never seen much point in a baby. Or in kids in general, really. He just really didn't get why so many people went through all the trouble to get one, or why they cried so many tears over them. He didn't see what was so special about them that they got so many hopes and prayers dedicated to them.
Because what did kids do, really? They cried, ate, pooped, and screamed some more. From what he had heard, they didn't even have the courtesy to sleep all that much.
He knew that Remus thought he was being ridiculous, and he could all but see Remus rolling his eyes and hearing him say, "Padfoot, you do know that you were a baby once. Everyone starts that way."
Well, he knew that. He wasn't completely stupid. And really, it just baffled him that there were so many people in the world, because yes, they did all start out as babies, and he still couldn't see why anyone would want one. After all, babies couldn't talk, nor could they walk, or do much of anything, really. They couldn't even really sit up. They just lay there like some kind of pudgy loaf of bread, one that had limbs that could flail around a little bit and suck its thumb. And cry. Don't forget that. And what they lacked in motor skills they seemed to make up for in lung capacity.
Sirius loved his sleep. He marveled at the way that, within minutes of just closing your eyes, you could drift off to some world of blackness or dreams, that only seem to last for a few minutes, and then the next thing you knew it was morning and the sunlight was poking your eyes, the shafts of yellow light heralding your return to the waking world. He held that refreshed feeling you got when you were fully awake again in awe. Really, he adored his sleep, and he just couldn't see eye to eye with some creature that couldn't appreciate it. And it was clear to him that babies didn't, for it was his understanding that they woke up every few hours and started screaming and, wouldn't you guess it, crying.
That was another thing. He hated crying. Couldn't stand it. Maybe it was just his Black upbringing, but he had been taught practically from the cradle that crying was a weakness, that you should never, ever cry. He was Sirius Black. He was strong, and he hated weak people and had zero patience for them. He could barely stand Peter at times, and he had known him for years and he didn't cry nearly as much as a baby would.
He had met Andy's daughter, Dora, when she was two, and it was then that he had discovered another aspect of babies that he didn't like at all.
Sure, Dora was cute enough, and she could kind of talk, even if most of it seemed to be different kinds of noises and random babbling. And he could see that it was kind of endearing, the way she tried to walk but ended up tripping over everything (although he was pretty sure that that was just a Dora thing, and not a general thing that all kids did). But then lunch for Dora just had to be something that Ted called a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He didn't know what it was, and didn't really care to know. All he did know was that Dora had ended up with a sticky brown paste smeared all over her face, with globs of jelly in dripping in patches. And as if the sight wasn't bad enough, she then just had to try to give him a kiss. Ted and even Andy had laughed themselves silly at the horrified expression on his face. Andy had reprimanded him afterward though about how he could have been a better sport about it.
All Sirius had to say, although he didn't say it out loud, was fuck that. Babies were just disgusting. There was no other way to look at it. They were gross and only deep affection for Andromeda could make Sirius touch Dora with something significantly shorter than a ten-foot broomstick. And the rest of the world could suck it. Babies ended up with more food on themselves than in their mouths, their noses constantly ran and you had to wipe their snot up for them, nor could they bathe themselves or even wash their hands, and they truly had unholy excrements. Sirius could barely stand Peter's table manners, let alone the ones of something that couldn't grasp such a concept.
On the whole, Sirius had concluded that the whole institution was worthless, and he had written it off as something he would never subject himself to. For Andromeda, Sirius would endure Dora until she grew into adulthood. But beyond her, Sirius had sworn off contact with the rest of the infant population.
He should have known that he wouldn't be so lucky.
He knew that so long as Remus had his way there was nothing to worry about from that sector. The Marauders could barely convince him to hold a twenty minute conversation with a female, and Sirius was understandably doubtful that they could ever make Remus come to terms with the idea of having his own baby. Peter…Sirius really doubted that one too, but maybe there were hopes that he would grow into himself.
James, though…He should have known that James would be the enemy and the problem in this equation.
James really was like his brother in so many ways. Remus often laughed and said that it was like the two of them were a single entity and shared the same brain, for one would rarely have a thought that didn't also occur to the other. James had done so much, and been there through so much for him, that he had sworn that he would always be there for James, no matter what. Because that's what family did, and Sirius would be damned if he didn't give back to his family.
So when James had practically kicked down the door to his flat at six in the morning, his face ashen and arms waving in panic, and he had felt the weight of something settle in his heart, he managed to calm James down enough to steer him inside, although nothing could stop his manic pacing.
"Lily's pregnant," James had blurted, hazel eyes wild and crazed. Sirius could practically see his heart leaping out of his chest. "Oh, God, Sirius, she's pregnant, she's fucking pregnant, and I don't know what to do, oh fuck, Padfoot, what do I do—"
Between himself and Remus they had managed to calm James down enough to where he could think and go back to Lily to deal with this like rational adults. But Sirius could sympathize with James. They were only nineteen, still just kids themselves, really. How could they presume to raise one, especially in the middle of a war?
Sirius had felt the truth in Remus's words when he had assured James that we will be beside you every step of the way, we will figure this out together, and we will raise the baby together. For all his own dislike of babies and children, this was James, and this was going to be James's baby. For James's sake, he would endure.
It had reminded him of when James had first started dating Lily. Back then, Sirius himself had had no love for her, and especially not for a girl who had broken James's heart more times than he could count over the last few years. But it had been important to James, so he had tolerated Lily for his sake. And as the months passed, it had turned out that she wasn't really so bad after all. And that hadn't even been two years ago. James had turned out right about Sirius warming up to Lily, so Sirius supposed that he could be right this time around.
He had seen pregnant women before, like Molly Weasley, and he had never given them much thought. Maybe it was just because, this time around, it was actually someone that he knew, but now he found himself almost fascinated by the whole thing. It seemed incredible beyond belief that Lily was growing a person inside of her, like a plant in a green house. At first the baby had been a blob, just a shapeless splotch of black, but as each 'ultrasound' picture came in he watched with growing amazement as it formed into a baby shape. It was like a cartoon flipbook, almost.
But even though he was there throughout her pregnancy, he still couldn't quite make his mind grasp that, very soon, there would be an actual baby in their midst, a living, breathing, person. Even then, the idea had seemed so ludicrous, so mind-boggling.
Remus, because he was smart and had read all the baby books with James, had said that a man never became a father until he saw his child for the first time.
It was funny, how Remus turned out to always be right.
When Harry James Potter had been born, he hadn't seemed to be anything particularly special. He was a crying, pink, flailing thing, just like every other baby.
But then James had carefully placed him into Sirius's arms, and he had gotten a good look at him for the first time. And when the baby Harry's eyes had fluttered open to look at him, Sirius felt his breath catch in his throat, and it was as if all the rest of the world had suddenly faded away.
Harry's face was almost comically shocked as he took in his new surroundings. Sirius supposed that he would be shocked too if he had been in the same place for nine months and suddenly in a matter of minutes he was in this whole, bright new world. Even just born, there was the tiniest tuft of black hair on his head, and those huge eyes were blue with hints of green, suggesting that he would take after his mother.
There was nothing special, and yet it seemed to Sirius as if he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.
His son. He didn't care that this glorious, beautiful creature was going to be in the image of James or that he had come from Lily. James was his father, no doubt about that, and there would be no one to contend that Lily wasn't his mother. Harry was not his biologically. But still. He just knew, somewhere deep inside his heart, that this tiny little person, this miracle, was his son. Some part of his soul seemed to rejoice and sing in recognition. This seemingly insignificant person had struck a chord in him that no one else had, not even the Marauders.
Somehow, on that day, when the pain and grief that made up Sirius's future were so very far away, he had recognized that this was the only son, the only child he would ever have. And he was okay with that. This precious little boy, his Harry, would always be more than enough.
It seemed as if years had passed until James's voice brought him back to that hospital room, and everyone was looking at him and smiling. Lily had tears coursing down her cheeks, and in that moment, with her hair stained an even darker red and matted with sweat and her whole face still flushed from the exertion and her breath still coming in uneven gasps, Sirius had thought that she had never looked more breathtaking.
When they asked him to be godfather, he was shocked at the sudden sting of tears in his eyes that fell before he could stop them. And in that moment, it seemed that they had all come to some understanding, that Harry wasn't just James and Lily's, he was all of theirs. He was their child. The child of the Marauders.
That night when Sirius got back home, he read all of the baby books until he knew them by heart.