What Hurts The Most, a harry potter fanfic

Author's Note: Yo, peeps. I only did the first half of the song + the second verse. Most of the stories were written and then matched to the lyrics, rather than the lyrics prompting the stories, so if they don't quite add up, you now know why.

I'd love to hear what you think. Good bits, bad bits? Review, I'll give you love.

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I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house

That don't bother me

"Potter, you wanker, get over here! The game's starting… NOW!"

Sirius Black stands in his gold and crimson Quidditch robes, calling to his friend while the other members of his team prepare to fly out into the waiting crowd. He is soaked through; his raven hair, usually held perfectly in place without so much as a simple holding charm to keep it there, is plastered against his forehead, sticking uncomfortably to his neck.

His best friend, James Potter… well, not even a torrent downpour of mid-November rain could keep his hair down; it seemed to be shooting off in all directions despite the multiple holding charms cast upon it. And James himself seemed to be against holding it in place today, running his hand through it every thirty seconds, mussing it up to achieve that elegantly windswept look that Sirius seems able to pull off so well-- James, not so much.

"Just wait Padfoot. Can't you see that I'm busy?"

And so he was. Busy trying to engage the attentions of the lovely young Miss Lily Evans, who was the only girl in the school that could even dream of distracting Gryffindor Quidditch captain James Potter mere moments before a game began.

"I swear to all things magical, James, if you don't get your captained arse over here and mount your broom now, we're going to have to do it for you."

Sirius motioned to the small crowd of people standing behind him; he was no longer the only one waiting for James. It was a small tradition at Hogwarts School that the captain of any Quidditch team flew out before the rest of his team-mates; and seeing as they weren't about to break that tradition, their only other option was to get James on the field either by threats, or if it came to it-- force.

James swung round, and glared at the team, who were all looking impatient, angry-- and soaked to the core. The rain was pummelling down harder than ever, thudding resoundingly on the wooden stands of the stadium, so that all the commentators could hear as they awaited the players was the repeated dull thunk of water on wood.

"James, come on. Everybody's waiting."

This time, it was a slight, chocolate-coloured girl that had addressed the captain. She looked slightly less bedraggled than the rest, though that may simply have been because he hair was twirled into a multitude of tiny braids, and was refusing to stick to her forehead. She played Chaser for the team, and though James was technically the captain, she believed herself to be in a superior role to the rest of the team, as she was a year above him.

However, James just stared at the girl, and gave a flick of his messy head. It wasn't so much about flirting with Evans any more; it was the fact that his own team was trying to boss him around.

"I'll bloody come when I feel like it!"

This set Sirius off. Growling in his throat, the handsome boy strode up to his best friend, and jabbed a finger in his face.

"Look, Prongs; just because you've gotten yourself a girlfriend doesn't give you the right to blow the rest of us off. Especially not right before the first game of the season!"

He glared, and for a moment, it looked like James was going to cave. Of course, why wouldn't he? He always ended up listening to Sirius in the end, even if it took a little bit of persuading on behalf of the dog Animagus first.

But not this time. Nobody was quite sure why he was being such a stubborn oaf, but everybody was shocked when he said what he said next:

"Oh, who gives a stuff about the game anyway?! You all seem absolutely roaring to go, so by all means, go ahead!"

He turned on Padfoot.

"Look, mate I don't know what your problem is, but get off my back, alright? If it's the fact that you're jealous because I'm captain-"

Everybody gasped-

"-then you have some serious growing up to do. Who the hell are you to be bossing me around anyway?"

Sirius froze. His eyes moved from James, red in the face, to Lily Evans, standing beside him. He wasn't sure what it was about Lily-- she was friendly, funny, kind, pretty… everything James had wanted and needed for the past five years. But Sirius just didn't like her. Maybe, he'd tell himself at night, maybe it's because she doesn't like him spending time with you.

But there was always that little voice inside his head, the one that needled him constantly. "Yeah," it would say, "yeah, or maybe you're just jealous." Jealous of what though? The fact that she was spending so much time with him?

Or the fact that he looked at her in a way that he had never even dreamed of looking at Sirius?

He blinked, and then turned around. If James wanted to miss out on the first game of the year for his new bloody girlfriend, then whatever. That was his choice.

"Fine, Potter. Do whatever you want."

Really, what did Sirius care anyway? It was just a stupid Quidditch match. And he and James would laugh this off in less than an hour, he was sure; they always did.

So why did he get a painful pang in his belly when Lily laid her hand on James' arm, and whispered in his ear? And why, why did it hurt so goddamned much to see James finally join his team, after only a few quick words from Lily Evans working in a way that even Padfoot couldn't make them?

Because he cares about her more, said that obnoxious voice in Padfoot's head, and for the first time, Sirius didn't brush it off, and for the first time, it wasn't only the deepest part of his subconscious that believed him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I'm not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me

Sirius Black's fingers trembled as he held the picture, and silent tears streamed their way down his cheeks, streaking trails in the dust and grime that had settled there over the years. Not that he noticed; he was totally focused on a face, a smiling, thin, bespectacled face, framed by unnaturally messy hair.

"Sirius, I have a favour to ask."

Sirius had known, of course, that something was wrong. He always knew, didn't he, when something was bothering James? But he'd had no idea how serious it was, no idea just how deep he was getting himself in; not that he'd have had any trouble if he had known-- anything for James.

"Now, I don't expect you to say yes; Hell, I'm not even sure if I would, if it was you asking me."

Now, they'd both known that that was a lie. James was simply offering Sirius a way out, and simultaneously letting him know that if he did need to say no, James understood.

But Sirius wouldn't ever had said no, not for fear for his own life. He would have been happy to lie it down at James' feet, for the boy to do as he pleased with it; after all, hadn't he already done that with his heart? Given it to James, and expected him to hold it as gently as possibly, only for it to be wrenched into two?

"What is it, Prongs? You can ask me anything, you know that."

Sirius could still remember the day that they'd had that conversation; could still remember the passion and intensity that he could feel shooting out of his grey eyes as he made it clear to James that even though his heart had been broken, he'd still love his friend with all the little pieces.

And James had looked back at him calmly, blatantly ignoring the fact that, once again, Sirius was holding the softest part of himself out on a platter.

"You know that I'm in danger; me and Lily. Dumbledore doesn't trust all the ordinary stuff to keep us safe anymore."

All the ordinary stuff. James had made it sound as though the protections laid around him, his wife and his one year old son were normal, even though they were an advanced sort of magic; he even thought that they used some of them here… not that they needed them. They had Dementors for that.

Sirius gave an involuntary retch as he was jerked violently back to the present by the thought of Dementors. The picture, the one of him, James, Moony and Peter, was still clutched fast in his hand.

"We want you to be our secret-keeper."

He'd been crying. That was a mistake. They could sense when he was sad. And sure enough, they were swarming. They flocked around his cell, their rattling breaths resonating off the dull grey walls.

He felt his head start to swim. They reeked, but he didn't notice. Nor did he realise that he was still crying, or that he'd outstretched his hands, reaching for the image of a boy barely twenty-one, an image that had long-since dropped to the floor, but lay blazoned in his mind forever.

"Of course, James. I'll do it. Anything. But what about Dumbledore?"

He started to shake, the cold closing in around him, the smiling face of James twisting in his head, the eyes losing all life and colour.

"I mean, I'm honoured, and I'd keep your secret come hell or high water. But… well, don't you think you'd be better off going for somebody less obvious?"

He could hear James crying, screaming-- screaming for Lily, and for Harry. Crying for Lily, and not for him.

"James, I only want you to be safe. Maybe… maybe you should choose Peter?"

Sirius could remember that day, clear as anything. He'd been awarded an honour, and he'd given it up. He'd offered up his heart, only to have it torn down. He'd thrown away his best friend's life, with a suggestion.

He'd cried in the middle of the night, silently so that no one could hear him, because Blacks didn't cry, ever.

Sometimes he wondered, if James knew. If James knew how much it would injure him, to ask him to keep Lily and Harry safe at the expense of his own safety. He wondered if James knew that it would injure him more than anything, and he would accept anyway.

Sometimes, Sirius really had to wonder.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I'm ok
But that's not what gets me

For Sirius Black, it's all really just a game. See how long he can hold up a conversation with Remus, the only person left that he can really talk to anymore. See how long he can listen to the honking and fussing of Molly Weasley, before it gets too much and he goes up to bed.

See how long he can look Harry in the eye, before turning away, too afraid of the shadow of the man that he sees in the face; too afraid to face the woman that lurks behind those eyes.

For Sirius, life's just one big game, because he really doesn't see any point in taking it seriously anymore. He has no reason laugh-- but he does. He has nothing left to cry for anymore-- he cries anyway. And most of all, he has absolutely no reason to keep on pretending that he was alright, when in reality he was about to break down at any given moment.

He kept pretending, though.

He'd have his conversations with Moony, talk, laugh, and sometimes even cry. Cry, because this shouldn't have been how it is. But it's sort of how it always had been. Moony and Padfoot. Padfoot and Prongs. Prongs and Padfoot. James and Sirius…

It was at that point he'd break, apologise to Remus, and go lie in his bed, wishing away the memories, and the fact that it would never, ever be Padfoot and Prongs again.

It hadn't been Padfoot and Prongs for a long, long time. Not since Lily.

And though Sirius would never, ever admit it…

He kind of resented Harry.

What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away

When your best friend gets married, it's your job to be the best man. As the best man, it's your job to be there as a pillar of support when they're having second doubts, and it's your job to hold them up when they think they might go crashing down.

James running, laughing screaming, falling fighting, glowing shining...

Sirius closed his eyes against the images threatening to form in his head. This wasn't the time to be thinking about James; for one thing, the boy-- no, the man, Sirius had to keep reminding himself-- was standing right next to him; for another, he was getting married in approximately twelve minutes.

And he was pacing. Nervously pacing up and down the small back room of the church, angsting about some small thing or another, wanting everything to be perfect.

James, easygoing, smiling, shaking it off, doesn't care, couldn't care, nothing big, let it go...

Sirius really didn't like to see James stressed. it didn't suit him, to have his forehead all creased up, and to have that fantastic grin banished from his face. It was almost as if uneasiness didn't fit James's features, which were meant for eternal laughter and fun.

"Padfoot!"

Sirius jumped. "Huh?" He hadn't even realised that James had been talking to him. Too busy daydreaming. Hopeless wishing. Stupid.

James rolled his eyes. "Look, mate, if you're going to ignore me, you might as well leave. You're doing a great job of helping absolutely not at all, so if you'd like to begin to listen, I'd appreciate it." He crossed his arms, and for a moment Sirius realised that he looked scarily like his soon-to-be wife had looked when she had been a fifth-year prefect, yelling at them for some sort of unorderly prank. It took all of his self-restraint to stop himself laughing and telling James that he looked 'just like Evans.' He wasn't allowed to do that anymore, and anyway, in about ten minutes she wouldn't even be Evans. She'd be Lily Potter. Wife to James Potter…

Sirius sighed, and his brow darkened. "Well sorry, Your Highness, forgive me if listening to your endless complaints about that same little things wore a bit thin. Next time you start prattling on about the placemats, I'll try to be more attentive."

James started, surprised. "I thought you weren't listening?" he said, a smirk beginning to show on his features.

"I didn't have to," Sirius replied with a grin, and for no reason at all, started to laugh.

It took James a mere half second to join it. "Alright, I'm being a prat. But can you blame me? I'm getting married, mate! To Evans!" He gave Sirius a delighted grin, and the other boy was pained to see those hazel eyes glowing with happiness.

"To Evans no less," said Sirius, attempting a grin of his own. James wasn't buying though, and he sighed and slumped down on the ground, leaning against the wall.

"You can't do this, Sirius," he said quietly, frowning, exasperated. "You really can't."

Sirius stayed standing, avoiding James' gaze and looking instead at his own feet. "Do what?" he asked with a smile and forced cheer. "I don't know what you're on about." He raised his shaky smile to James' face, and it melted like water. "Oh, don't look at me like that," he said irritably, his eyes falling to the ground again.

James gave a tired smile. "It's getting old Sirius, and Lily knows that you don't like her. Hell, everybody knows that you don't like her. You don't exactly try to hide it, do you?"

Sirius let his shoulders droop and tried to look ashamed, though inside he was practically singing. He knew how much effort Lily had been making with him, and it gave him a sick sort of joy that she'd finally caught on.

"Stupid know-it-all," he mumbled, just loud enough for James to hear.

"Don't," the bespectacled boy replied flatly, not bothering to rise to the bait. He didn't want a fight with Sirius; not now.

Sirius let out a breath, and sank to the ground, back flat against the wall. "I really am sorry," he said quietly, and for a moment, James thought he sounded defeated. He was proven wrong though, when Sirius raised his gaze to meet his defiantly. "It isn't my fault though," he said a little louder. "Don't pretend like you haven't known all along. Don't pretend like it's never been there."

James didn't know what to say. He'd expected a little yelling, and quite a bit of denying… not blatant admitting, and he most certainly did not expect to be blamed.

"Uh…" was his reply, and Sirius knew he was on the road to winning.

"And don't pretend that you haven't been politely ignoring it. I'm not blind, and I'm not stupid, James. I have eyes, just like you." He was glaring now, convincing himself that it was all James' fault that he had come to church today with no intention of letting James get married.

James stood, and for a second he looked about to faint. Then he composed himself, and his look was one of utter loathing. "Don't you dare," he hissed, his eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare tell me that I've been pretending. You have no right Sirius, you have no fucking right. You don't know me; you can't even pretend to know what's going on inside my head."

At this Sirius started. "Don't know you?" He blinked, and then he shot up straight like a rod, coming face to face with James instead of slumped against the wall. "I don't know you? And I suppose pretty little Evans does, does she? Knows all your precious little secrets? Knows where you keep the spare key?" He gave a little growl, and stepped forwards, so that he and James were nose-to-nose. "I bet she knows everything, doesn't she? She knows that you're scared of heights, and she knows that you're filthy rich. She knows that when you got an A in Divination in year five you started crying, because the rest of us got an E?" His eyes glinted with something; perhaps hatred, but more likely fear-- fear that he was going too far. "And I bet she knows that you made out with Lisa O'Reilly on her birthday in fifth year just to spite her, and I bet she knows that you made out with her for the first time in seventh just to spite me."He took a deep breath and would have continued, had James not hit him with a sharp uppercut to the jaw. The impact sent him slamming back into the wall, though it likely had less to do with the actual force of the punch and more to do with the adrenalin that was rushing through his veins in the form of red-hot anger.

James was panting, and he looked ready to hit Sirius again. "Shut up," he said quietly, dangerously. "Shut up. That's all rubbish. It doesn't matter. She knows how to make me laugh, and she knows how to make me feel good, and she knows when enough is enough."He glowered, and then his voice took on a sort of desperate hint. " And she's beautiful, Sirius! She's beautiful, and sweet, and funny, and smart, and she's everything I've ever wanted, and everything I've ever needed, and everything. She's night and day Sirius. She's the earth and the moon and the stars. She's my star." His eyes were shining behind the round-lenses that he'd be removing for the ceremony, opting instead for a short spell to help his vision.

Sirius glared into them. Tears were welling up, in James' eyes, in his own? He didn't know, and suddenly, so quickly, he didn't even care.

"I love you." His voice was flat, broken, and he ached from the shock of the punch. He could see his reflection in Prongs's bespectacled eyes.

After all the years, the worry and pain, the love and the elation of having James be his, this is what it came down to. A pathetic confession in the small back room of a chapel, made to a man that cared, sympathised, even maybe… reciprocated? Made to a man that he knew, beyond all reasonable doubt, loved him back, and was going to go marry somebody else anyway.

"I know." James' voice was soft, a great contrast to the ferocity of his hazel eyes as he stepped forwards.

"I know,"he said again, more urgency, getting closer. They were nose to nose. Eye to eye. Palm to palm, and out of nowhere, lip to lip, fumbling, heated, passionate, melting over each other for the best, for the last, for the only time, the only time that mattered. To end it all, the goodbye, the urgent, desperate clinging and the fear that soon one would have to let go.

To both their surprise, it was Sirius.

- - -

"Do you, James Potter, take Lily Rose Evans to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health til death do you part?"

He looked right. There was the priest. He looked left. There were his friends and family, his peers, everyone that mattered to him. He looked straight ahead at the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. She was beautiful, smiling, perfect.

He didn't turn around. He didn't look behind him, because the temptation would be too much, and anyway, he knew Sirius was there, out of sight but never out of mind.

He always would be.

And never knowing

What could have been

And not seeing that loving you

Is what I was trying to do

Sirius wasn't sure how he got there. Looking back, he supposed he just ran, though thirty miles is a long, long way to run… he had motivation, and by that time he was too numb to feel tired anyway.

At first, he was terrified-- what if James' family didn't want him, imposing on their privacy for the next month? What if they didn't really like him, what if they were only pretending every time he came to visit?

What if they kicked him out, and he had no where left to go?

When James had come to the window, still half-asleep, Sirius had been shaking, shivering, because unbeknownst to him, he had been being pelted with ice-cold rain, hail and sleet for the last night and day. His lips and fingers were blue, and his face as pale as anything; but what scared James the most, what absolutely terrified him out of his wits, was the fact that Sirius didn't seem to notice.

His eyes were dull, and his head was bleeding. James pulled him inside, and sat him down on the bed, not caring that Sirius was soaking the blankets through.

"I'm so sorry," jabbered his friend, shaking his hair away from his face frantically. "I'm so sorry, I don't know how I got here, I'll be gone in the morning, I promise, and…" James shut him up, simply by wrapping his arms around him. "Don't worry," he whispered, feeling slightly corny. "You can stay as long as you want; you know Mum won't mind."

Sirius was still shivering, and James realised that he really was as cold as a block of ice. "I'll get you some clothes," he mumbled, more for his sake than Sirius'; he didn't even know if his friend was listening.

Sirius just sat there on the bed, shaking and staring at the wall, actively blocking out the memories that threatened to break him down. When James returned, he found Sirius curled into a ball, whispering to himself. "I couldn't do it," he said, over and over again. "I just couldn't do it."

James wanted to ask what was wrong, and more than anything, he wanted to know who had dared hurt Padfoot-- his Padfoot… but he got the feeling he already knew.

How could somebody do this? How could somebody take something so beautiful, so delicate, and snap it? James didn't know. But he did know that he would do whatever it took to make Sirius feel warm again-- and feel loved again.

Sirius looked up at James, his normally smoky-grey eyes turned a dull black. "I couldn't take it anymore, James," he whispered, his handsome, aristocratic features twisted in agony. "They didn't want me." James sat down beside him, took him in his arms, and rested a head on his friend's shoulder, his voice a soft breath against Sirius' ear, speaking the words he needed to hear.

"I still want you, Siri. And I always will."

It's hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I'm doing it

When Sirius Black was in Azkaban, he could sometimes picture himself somewhere else; somewhere that it was easier to be.

It never worked for long, though, because everywhere and anywhere that Sirius wanted to be was with James, and as soon as the image of that scruffy-haired boy conjured into his head, he began to cry and scream. And then he would remember, and the screaming would stop, because you cannot hate and scream at the same time, not when the pure intensity of the hate envelopes your body in a bubble of almost religious solemnity that needs to be maintained through silence and stillness, lest the bubble burst and every ounce of loathing, anger and extreme, extreme despair be sent shooting forth into the world, so that the protections built round yourself melt away and you give in to the insanity at last.

His innocence did not matter. Revenge did not matter. James was what mattered, and if he was insane, Sirius knew that he could not remember.

So he would remember. He would cry and scream. And then he would stop, lest he forget.

It's hard to force that smile when I see our old friends

And I'm alone

Moony was a kind man, generous, a good listener, an old friend. His best friend.

Sirius hated him. In a perverse, twisted way, he hated Remus Lupin with all his heart and soul for what was, in his mind, theft. Theft of the title he owned, Padfoot's best friend, theft of the love that had, at one point in Sirius' life, been given to only one.

James Potter had not always been kind. He had been selfish, so selfish, demanding, insensitive to the breaking of his friend's heart in the most awfully cruel way; he had been perfect, so perfect, and he fit.

Moony was wonderful. He was perfect too, Sirius supposed, in an even more perfect way. But it was the imperfection of James, the lopsided smile, the gangly swagger, his glasses, his messy black hair, his himness, that made him so perfect for Sirius.

And he knew that when people he knew saw him, they were sad. He knew he didn't look right. He knew he didn't fit. Wherever Sirius was, there was a gaping hole beside him, more noticeable than the long, matted hair, the gaunt, shallow face, the almost-lifeless grey eyes. People didn't see Sirius for what he was anymore; they saw him for what he wasn't.

He wasn't with James.

And he supposed he should be grateful for Moony, who was, after all, the only friend he had left at all. But he was a triangle trying to fit through a James-shaped hole, and it wasn't working quite right.

But he'd smile at Remus. He'd joke around with the man, be his friend, be grateful.

He'd try to pretend as though he didn't resent Moony for being everything that James was not: alive.