"Is everything ready, Sirius?" James asked, a somewhat forced smile on his lips, as he brushed a strand of dark hair from his eyes.
If only it hadn't been, Sirius thought, as the wind pressed his robes against him, and fluttered behind. Sirius made his way slowly up an old hill, covered in a blanket of blue-bells and violets. The beautiful, brught colours reminded Sirius of the days before the gray. When everything was still black and white. Good and evil.
"Yeah, Peter's on his way. Where's Lily?" Sirius' smile of mischief was geniune, never forced. His robes were new, and clean, and his eyes held a wholesome warmth that they never would again.
Poor Lily, she need not have died. Then again, no one should have died, Sirius thought to himself. If it hadn't been for that power-driven madman, Voldemort...but it didn't matter anymore. As Sirius reached the top of the hill he came to a single tree. It's bark was, at a glance, white. But upon closer inspection, one could see that it was silver in shade, pure and unblemished. The tree was flowering, beautiful pink blosoms that occasionally caught the wind and sailed down to land upon the cold stone marker beneath it.
"Your sure you'll be alright," Lupin asked, one last time.
"Lupin, you worry to much. Of course he'll be alright. He's a marauder, remember?" Sirius grinned, and Lupin seemed to calm a fraction. Sirius' eyes travelled across the room, Lupin was standing near the doorway, about to leave. James and Lily, holding their son Harry, were seated on a loveseat, looking like a match made in heaven. Peter stood off to the side, silent.
"You okay Peter?" Sirius asked, wondering why he was so quiet. Wormtail started, and fixed his beaty eyes on Sirius. "Yes, yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
Devoted wife, husband, and parents
Everyone else had gone. Lupin and Peter had left together. Lily was upstairs, changing Harry's diaper. Sirius was hesitant in leaving, however.
"Your sure you'll be all right?" He asked for the millionth time.
"Sirius, what has gotten into you? Of course I will. Voldemort will never find me here. And certainly not with Pettigrew as my Secret-Keeper. We're completely safe until this whole thing blows over."
"It was my fault, you know." Sirius said to the silent tomb, "I could have stopped it. I was comming over to your house, to see if everything was okay. I know it was my fifth time that day, but something felt wrong. I didn't know what. I never suspected it was Peter. I was held up, though. Snape and I met on our way out, and that slimy git always has had the worst timing. If it weren't for him, maybe I could have stopped Voldemort.
The moterbike landed in front of ruins. Plaster and bits of wood that remained of Lily and James' house. Sirius felt his heart skip a beat, and then start going at hyperspeed. One word kept repeating in his mind, each time with more hatred towards its bearer. Peter. Peter. Peter.
"I wasn't allowed to go to your funeral. I was in Azkaban by then. I don't know if I would have wanted to go anyways." Sirius sighed deeply, and stared up at the clear blue sky. "People say that history is doomed to repeat itself. Voldemort has returned to power, James. And Harry, well, he's like you. He's going to do whatever he can to help defeat him."
Hogwarts Graduation. The Marauders were celebrating at the Three Broomsticks. Laughing and joking about Severus Snapes latest humiliation, not caring that he was only a table over. Not thinking anything of it when he walked over to their table to tell them off.
"I wouldn't be so cocky Potter. Or you, Black. I'll get my revenge. I always do. Just you wait."
"Harry's going to be graduating in a month, James. He's already got a job playing Quidditch for England. Seeker. Isn't that great? To bad you won't be able to see him. He's as good a flyer as you were." Sirius' voice faded as he ran out of ramblings and got to the point of his visit. "Listen, James. I just wanted to let you know...I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I'm sorry for not saving you. I'm sorry for not getting out of Azkaban sooner." Sirius' voice cracked, "I know it's my fault you didn't live. But it's Peter's fault you died. Did that make sense to you? Don't worry James, Wormtail will die. But in the meantime...just know that I'm sorry, Prongs." And Sirius Black did something he hadn't done since he was six years old and his mum flushed his dead goldfish down the toilet, not even in Azkaban. He sat down on the hard ground, among the blue bells and violets, and he cried.
"Everythings not black and white," Prongs said, his hand around Lily's shoulder as she held Harry. "There are more shades of gray than we know about. If we die, I want to know that we are as light a gray as possible. I want to know that we were good, and did all we could to help. Tell me, Padfoot, tell me I mattered. Tell me I made a difference."
"No one has made more of a difference than you, Prongs. No one."