Hi again, mortals! I've been working on this little thing for an obscene amount of time, and I'm afraid that it's made it . . . awkward? Ah well. You can be judge of that.
This was written for the Challenge and Competition for Hard-core Marauder Fans (which is actually my own), using the prompt "Write a story that somehow compares James' family to Sirius'."
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and the wonderful image used for this one can be found on Google. I didn't draw it.
XXX
"He isn't feeling very well, love," said Mrs. Potter one dreary Saturday afternoon. "You mustn't wake him. He needs his rest."
Isn't feeling well. What a thing to say.
"I won't bother him," said James.
She smiled, and the small wrinkle underneath her left eye appeared. He knew, from years of experience, that that meant she was hoping he was being honest with her. "Good boy. You may talk to him tomorrow, when he feels like it."
And with that she walked away.
James knew that if he opened the door and tried to talk to Sirius his mother would be upset, but it was unlikely he would be in very much trouble. Even if he would have been in a great deal of trouble he would not have listened to her. James, after all, knew Sirius much better than she did. He wasn't entirely confident that he would be able to cheer his friend up at all (whereas, he reflected somewhat distantly, he would have been very confident about such a thing only a few months previously), but he was certain that Sirius would appreciate someone to talk to.
He stood for a few more seconds, waiting to be sure that his mother did not backtrack, and then opened the door slowly so that it would not awaken Sirius if he happened to be sleeping.
At first, James thought he was. Sirius was curled inwardly on the bed in the middle of the room, below the covers and his head did not rest on top of the pillow and was instead on the mattress. He only had a second or two to make such observances, however, before Sirius' head rose up. His body stayed in the fetal position, and James was struck with the remarkable image of a dog - not at all an uncalled for comparison.
"Hey," he said after he closed the door and began walking closer to the bed. There was a wooden chair that was beside Sirius that James could only assume his mother had been using. He gestured to it vaguely. "Can I sit?" he asked as he sat down.
Sirius finally straightened himself out on the bed so that he was still laying on his side, but not curled up. "I s'pose so."
Neither of the boys said anything to one another. Sirius busied himself with staring at the wall across from them, and James studied his friend's face carefully. "You look better," he said.
It was true. When he had first seen Sirius he had looked down-right horrible. His skin was unnaturally pale, his hair and clothes disheveled, and he was shaking and looked very much like he wanted to be sick: symptoms of someone who had just been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.
Symptoms of someone who had just been disowned by their family.
White-hot indignation filled him just as it had when Sirius had appeared on the Potters' doorstep. That damn family of his - how dare they do something like this? I don't care if they die, he thought fiercely. It almost surprised him that he was being honest with himself.
When the silence finally became too oppressive, James said, "Are you alright?" It was the only thing he could think of.
"I s'pose so," said Sirius again.
James clenched the bottom of his chair. "But you aren't, are you?"
His words seemed to ignite fire back into his friend's body. "What d'you care, Potter?" he snapped.
James set his jaw and forced himself not to get mad. He reminded himself that Sirius was in a very . . . delicate . . . state of mind, and as such he wasn't thinking rationally. When he was sure that there was no anger in his voice he said, "Because I'm your friend."
"You know," said Sirius after another moment of silence, "I always wanted my family to be like yours."
James swallowed.
"I mean," Sirius continued, "your life is sodding perfect! You've got a wonderful mum who loves you and a great father who actually wants to spend time with you. You don't have any stupid old codgers following you around and hitting you with canes that they only pretend they need, and you haven't any hateful house-elves who'll do damn near anything to get you in trouble, and you get practically whatever you want. If you told your parents you wanted to buy out Quality Quidditch Supplies, I'd bet they'd do it, or they'd go down trying."
Everything Sirius said was true. James was never one to feel very depressed, but as he sat there and listened to Sirius rant he felt nothing but cold despair. He remembered, all the way back in second year, when the subject of Sirius' home life had first come up, that Remus had told them, in that hopeless little voice he had used to use before they all found out about his furry little problem, that he felt Sirius was not safe with his family. Being so sheltered himself James could never imagine a home that wasn't safe, so he had brushed Remus' concerns off immediately, and Peter, who idolized every word James ever spoke, had agreed.
Now, about four years later, he found himself wishing that his twelve-year-old self hadn't been so foolish. Perhaps if he hadn't have been he could have written to his father and asked him to get someone to investigate. Perhaps if he hadn't have been Sirius would not be quite so miserable.
"I'm sorry, Sirius," said James after what felt like several hours.
"It's alright. We can't help what family we're born into. And anyway, its not as though I'd want your parents to be like mine."
James wasn't sure what to say to that.
XXX
The first couple days were possibly the gloomiest that had ever descended over the home of the Potters, but they remained hopeful and helpful. Mr. Potter visited the Ministry for hours to get certain documents and files passed over from the Blacks to the Potters, which would ensure the custody to be passed over; Mrs. Potter did her absolute best to make Sirius feel at home (though that was difficult to do when he stayed in his designated room); Viloto, the family's house-elf, waited on Sirius' every demand in a way that James had never seen her do for anyone else before; and of course James had tasked himself with the business of cheering Sirius up.
"Would you like to play chess?"
"Not 'specially, no."
"What about some Gobstones?"
"No."
". . . Exploding Snap?"
"Damn you, Potter. Must you be so infuriating? Can't you see I'm trying to mope here?"
It was said in such a bland tone that James almost didn't realize Sirius had made his first joke since he arrived. He still clearly was not happy, but the knowledge of the improvement gave James hope that soon enough he would have Sirius feeling good again in no time.
"It is my solemn duty to be infuriating, you know."
"Of course it is."
And so on then, on the fourth day, they played round after round of Exploding Snap. It lasted at least three hours, because towards the end it wasn't so much that they were playing the game as much as they were playing the cards, and trying to see who could build the better Hogwarts before it exploded.
When evening came around Viloto knocked on Sirius' door, announcing that dinner was ready.
James stood up from his place on the floor and moved to the door. He did not expect Sirius to follow, as the other boy hadn't eaten outside of his bedroom since he had first arrived, but he was surprised when Sirius clumsily scrambled to stand and said, "Wait up, you!"
James couldn't help it: he smiled. Despite his friend's circumstances, he would one day be truly happy again, and he would do it with the help of his real family: the Potters.
Sod the Blacks.