Written for Jily AU week on Tumblr but it ended up more Marauder-centric. Ouchies.

Negative Space

He was running towards them. Running, his wand held tightly in his hand, retreating from the brawl. Sirius almost laughed as his friend approached, the relief coursing through him prematurely, feeling so alive; so young; so invincible.

But all too quickly things changed.

A wanton streak of green light struck his friend in the back and he pitched forward, falling face first into the dust in one simple jarring movement. Sirius' face fell, his jaw dropped and he stopped running back, waiting for his friend to recover though all logic, all remaining rationality told him he never would. Sirius cried out. His friend didn't move.

He shouted, he called out loudly, he screamed. He felt arms restraining him, pulling him away and he shouted at them; pushed them; shoved them angrily. He needed to go back; he couldn't leave him. His friend –

He punched someone - friend or foe - and people were calling his name - "SIRIUS! MOVE!" - "BLACK! THERE'S NO-!" -

He fought, in the way that only Sirius could, hard and fiercely but there was no letting up. Spells flew at them, missing them by inches and Sirius still would not flee. Kicking and writhing in the arms of his comrades, he felt a wand at his forehead and in the blink of an eye, before he could stop it, the world disappeared.

The one he woke up to was very different.

He blinks awake, the blinding, artificial light making him squint. He gasps and sits up urgently, one name on his lips, and one face he needs to see.

"James"

Remus Lupin is by his side in an instant, pushing him back down onto the bed, holding his shoulders calmly in his reassuring way, talking over him, strongly and firmly and steadily. Sirius pushes him but Remus is used to him, and he remains standing where he is, strong and steadfast as always.

Sirius doesn't need steadfast; he needs James.

He needs him by his side. As he surely would have been had the circumstances been different.

The dread makes him struggle harder, as if fighting for that tiny sliver of hope that what he saw – what he knows – is a lie.

"Sit back down, lad. We don't want to have to stun you again ."

Moody growls at the end of the bed, his face cut up and yet impassive as always. Sirius gets to his feet, pushing Remus aside and staring at his command leader with fierce burning steel in his eyes.

"You left him!" Sirius' voice is venomous and guttural; meaner than it's ever sounded.

Remus says his name, quietly, warning him, but Sirius doesn't listen and Moody shakes his head.

"You left him there! You didn't even check if-" Sirius' voice withers in his throat and he chokes on it. He's so angry; so very angry.

"You saw the light hit him, Black."

Sirius wants to hit him, hard and fast and stop him from talking about it. It's not a nightmare if it's shared.

"Fuck you, you left him there!" Sirius strides across to him, his finger pointing accusingly as he approaches Moody, standing close to him so he can feel Sirius' pain as acutely as he does. "After all he's done for you! No, Remus, FUCK OFF!"

Lupin lets go of Sirius' shoulder, looking hurt but doing as he is told regardless. He steps back and looks down at the floor and Sirius doesn't have time to think about him.

He jabs his finger at Moody again but the auror interrupts.

"Did you think I was going to risk the lives of more people to save a dead man?"

Sirius erupts.

"You know what they do to dead bodies! AND YOU LEFT HIM! I WOULD HAVE GONE BACK! I WOULD HAVE BROUGHT HIM HOME!" His voice cracks. "And now what? He's just gone? His wife doesn't even have a body to bury, for fucks sake. And they're going to-" He shakes his head, tailing off and Moody puts a hand on his shoulder, in a more comforting way than Sirius has ever been used to.

Peter is whimpering in the corner and Sirius shoots him a glare. Part of him, a sick, disgusting, Black part of him wishes it had been Peter who had died. Snivelling Peter Pettigrew - cowardly and barely there -and not James, his best friend. Not James Potter, the person he'd left behind.

Moody's voice is gentle but awful when he finally speaks. "Potter was a good fighter. A good man. But I wasn't going to lose another to get him back. He wouldn't have wanted that."

Sirius pushes Moody away. "Fuck you," he murmurs, cruelly quiet, and he storms out of the room, not looking back to see if anyone cares.

He distantly hears Moody grunting at Remus, telling him it's okay and that he should follow him, but Sirius doesn't want to be followed. He doesn't want to be okay. It's not okay; nothing is okay.

Nevertheless, Remus finds him some time later, though Sirius doesn't know how long. Sirius is sitting in a corridor, his knees drawn up to his pale, bloodless face as he stares at the wall opposite. Remus sits beside him but nothing is said for a while. Sirius is dreading the moment the words come.

"I kno-"

Sirius cuts off the apology. "Why are you so calm?" he asks, abruptly.

Remus looks at him blankly. "What?"

"Why are you so calm? Why aren't you crying?" He gets to his feet, removing himself from beside his friend. "He was your friend too. Why aren't you upset? Aren't you angry?"

Remus frowns and gets to his feet slowly, clawing himself up the wall. "Of course I am, Sirius."

"No you're not! Look at you!" Sirius is blowing up again, and Remus is trying to stop the coming apocalypse. Both of them wish for James. "Don't you feel anything?"

"Yes," Remus utters sadly, his voice low and quiet and so sad in the way that Remus' voice always tends to be. He sounds defeated. "You know I do. Don't act like you're the only one hurt by this."

Sirius' face reddens and he turns and he growls and emotion builds up inside him like white hot lava. His fist hits the wall and he breathes heavily as his fingers pound and blood smears the cold stone. His throat closes up and the only thing that he thinks is that he can't do whatever he's supposed to do now. He simply can't cope anymore.

James Potter is dead.

What other point is there?

He rests his forehead against the stone and tries hard not to bang it, repeatedly and often. It would do no good to bludgeon himself to death now. Remus' hand finds his shoulder and he tenses. He doesn't want Remus. He doesn't want this – he doesn't want this – this isn't what was supposed to happen next.

He pushes Remus off again and bellows down the corridor – he can't find words, only rage.

Remus rubs his head with his thumb and nibbles at the edge of his lip, looking very much as if he's going to cry, which Sirius has only ever seen him do once. And though that time he had wanted nothing more than to stop the tears, to give his friend the happiness he deserved, Sirius didn't want to stop them now. A vindictive part of him wanted the world to cry for James and wanted others to hurt because Sirius hurt and he had enough of hurting now. He wanted the world to burn, himself with it.

Once, many years ago, Sirius Black had been used to the darkness and unforgiving nature of the world. He had known there was no good in it. Not any real good. Of course, James fucking Potter had changed that outlook the moment he strode purposefully into his life and finally, finally, Sirius could see some redeemable light; he felt as though it was lifting him from the doldrums of hate his family had banished him to and the world was so good. He laughs now to think of it. He was stupid; foolish. James Potter, in the end, had been nothing but proof that the world was as terrible as Sirius had always known it was. The only thing he had ever loved freely had been torn from him in the blink of an eye – what could be more terrible than that?

He laughs loudly, a single hollow bark, and Remus looks at him with terrified eyes. Sirius laughs again, laughing until his voice is hoarse and he bangs his hand on the empty windowsill until his palms ache. What a good old fucking joke this was.

"Sirius, stop." Remus' hand upon his shocks him and he inhales sharply, cold air rushing into his lungs painfully. His lip trembles and the cold of Remus' fingers enclosed around his own makes him forget what he was laughing at. He lowers his head and Remus pulls him towards his chest until the two are embracing, Sirius' forehead resting limply against Remus' shoulder and Remus rubbing Sirius' arms in an effort to comfort. Remus' jumper has grown tight as Sirius pulls it at the back, his hands fisting in it.

"It shouldn't be him," Sirius bites out.

Remus closes his eyes and does not reply. He knows Sirius too well. He can't ignore the pain and the anguish and the guilt in his old friend's voice but there is no way to acknowledge it without hurting someone. Living with the potential to hurt someone, to kill or worse, every month, Remus has long suffered from the belief he's a monster. It could have made him mean but all who know him suspect the opposite. Remus is not the type to let others hurt needlessly and if he can help it, he will certainly not be the cause. Sirius is not hurting needlessly, but today Remus isn't the cause. It's the only time he's wished he was.

In the end, all he can say is "I know."

He understands.

Perhaps that's enough for now, to remind Sirius that all is not lost, though it seems as though it ought to be.

They stand there for some time, pretending the world isn't turning without James, but a thought draws Sirius out of his spiralling torment.

"Lily," he breathes, pulling away from his (second) best friend and pressing the heel of his hand into his eye. "Fuck, I need to tell Lily." The guilt rushes at him and makes his stomach twist in knots again. James has a wife and she needs to know her husband isn't coming home – that his luck finally ran out, no matter how young he was; no matter how much love he held in his heart; no matter how much more he had left to give. He shakes his head and everything threatens to erupt again until Remus speaks to him in his steady voice, the one Sirius hates and yet needs.

"Peter's gone, I think. Moody said someth-"

"What?" Sirius says, interrupting and his voice terribly calm. "Peter? Fuck, no, why would you send him? Fuck!"

He strides away, running a hand through his hair painfully, and Remus follows wordlessly, a sigh shuddering from his entire body as he realises this is it now – James Potter is gone. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and watches Sirius floo away in Dumbledore's fireplace. Remus meets Dumbledore's eye briefly before he leaves, only to see that his usual twinkle has vanished and Remus finds he can't look again.

He stumbles out into the Potters' hallway, dusting himself off and nearly tripping over Sirius whose face is drained of colour. The house is full of crashing noises and shouts and Sirius' fists clench. Once again, the fact that this shouldn't be happening seems to be slapping them both in the face. Sirius glances at Remus quickly before shaking himself and walking briskly into the kitchen where the scene that greets them makes him feel like being sick again.

Shards of porcelain litter the linoleum floor, sharp and scattered, as Lily continues taking plates from the sink where she was washing them and throws them hard on the floor at her feet.

"No," she's saying, shaking her head. "No, don't you dare!" Another plate is thrown. Tears are falling down her face and she's so angry at everything. She was doing the dishes and now, now her husband is dead?

A mug shatters on impact.

She looks up and she spots Sirius, relief adorning her face as she runs to him and throws her arms around his neck.

"It's not true, tell me it's not true, Peter says he's dead but he can't be can he? Peter's always getting it wrong, please," Her face is buried in his neck, "Please tell me where he is."

Sirius has barely moved, but he places an arm around her waist before removing her arms from around his neck. He swallows heavily and he can't look her in the eye. He shakes his head.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, hating that he is choking now, when Lily, poor Lily Potter, love of his best friend's life, is just now hearing the news. This is so much more than a nightmare.

Lily is breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling as she looks at Sirius, for any trace of a sick smile, any clue that this is a sick, twisted, evil joke that the idiots has cooked up and she swears if it is, she'll leave him, she'll fucking do it, but she knows. She knows deep down that James would never do that to her. He's gone. He's dead.

Something heavy settles on her chest and she clutches at her neck, looking around for something or other, whether for distraction or just solace. She knows neither will come. She pushes past Sirius and Remus and walks to the hallway.

Remus' hand rests on Sirius' shoulder but he shrugs it off, and turns to follow Lily.

She's clutching the hat stand, almost doubled over, breathing thick and fast, whimpers breaking out as tears drip from her chin to the floor.

She whips round when she feels the ghost of Sirius' hand on her shoulder.

"No, please, don't," she shakes her head. Her fists are balled and she steps back from the hat stand a little. Her mind is working overtime but the only thing that is going through it is the fact that James isn't stood beside his best friends. She closes her eyes and screams, throwing a hat at Sirius as she sinks to the floor. She doesn't know whose hat it is because James doesn't wear them and nor does she but it hits Sirius in the chest and he flinches even though it can't have hurt. She sobs.

Remus and Peter are stood just behind Sirius and watch as he goes to pick Lily up off the floor. They watch as he helps her to the living room, and sits there, quieter than they or she have ever known him, as he rubs her back and hands her tissues and strokes her hair. She pushes him away and tells him to stop because he has no right to be this kind, James used to do this for her and he's not fucking HERE.

He doesn't say a word, because he understands. He's had his own fight with reality and he knows how it goes. He feels like he's suffocating.

He can't hear Remus and Peter's sad, low whispers from the hallway and he's glad he can't. How anyone can whisper at a time like this is beyond him. If he could speak, if words weren't completely failing him right now, he'd shout; he'd scream the house down and relish the feel of the dust of the rubble as it fell around his shoulders. That James Potter has ceased to exist is completely and utterly beyond comprehension.

Lily screams, her mouth open against his jeans as she rages against everything. Sirius wants to soothe her, to hush her because that's what normal people do when others are sad but she doesn't want to be hushed and nor does he think she should be; it reminds him of James. She has every right to be loud; to be angry. Sirius has no place stopping her apart from the fact that the sound of her screams are tearing at his whole being every time and he can't take it.

Sirius hears the front door open and close quietly and there's a brief pause before he hears Remus knock over the hat stand and growl in his quiet, angry way that is somehow more awful than any loud cries of grief that Sirius could produce. Sirius is reminded forcefully that Remus feels this as acutely as he does. And soon each of them will be crushed under the pressure of it all.

Remus walks in not long after, his eyes red and exhausted, carrying a tray of tea that everyone knows will remain untouched. Neither Sirius or Lily know how long it's been but Lily's tears are dry on her face as she lays still in Sirius lap, her eyes open, blinking tiredly. She's numb now – she's cried so much. Sirius has tear tracks on his own face and he shakes his head at his friends, his jaw set as he tries not to fall apart completely. Remus sits the other side of the redhead and gently prises her away from Sirius and she quietly weeps into his cardigan.

Sirius silently thanks his friend and gets up; the urge to flee takes hold. He can't be in that room right now, he just can't. It's brutal. James is just one person but he's the one person in the world that he wants to see walk through that door and he's the one person that can't. James Potter would make everything okay. James Potter is everything. Sirius slides down the hallway wall and buries his face in his knees.

Peter returns half an hour later and drops his bags in the hallway. He stands in the doorway, looking down, his face pale and tears falling down his cheeks far easier than Sirius' had. Sirius barely acknowledges that he is back. He listens to the slow carpeted footsteps as Remus emerges from the living room and all three of them just exist there for a second in limbo, as if waiting for their fourth friend to complete the picture. The silence is painful.

Together, Remus and Peter pull Sirius up and go upstairs to the Potters' spare room. Sirius sinks onto the bed and Remus sits on the dressing table stool, while Peter pulls up the wicker chair in the corner. James inherited a lot of furniture from his parents. They sit there is silence for a moment, in their little triangle, and it's Remus who breaks it.

"Lily's asleep. I conjured a blanket; I haven't the heart to move her."

Sirius nods slowly. "I can't imagine being in her own bed would help much anyway." He imagined that it was unmade, with James' imprint still visible in the sheets, proof that he had lived just hours ago. Now it was just another reminder of how empty this world was without his best friend.

Both Peter and Remus shake their heads and silence descends upon them all once more, as the world turns to a negative space without their Prongs.

"I can't believe he's actually gone," Peter says quietly and Sirius' fists clench. The word 'gone' makes him want to do something but there's simply nothing he can do. Remus reaches out and pats his knee, an unspoken comfort flowing from his gesture.

"Nor can I, Pete," he replies, sitting back in his chair. "I never thought it'd be him."

Sirius' eyes start to sting again and he wants James more than anything because he would know what to do, he would know how to deal with this. Without him, Sirius is lost, floundering, uncertain. He swears, as he always has done, that James Potter is the one who keeps him sane, knows all his secrets, his triggers and his nuances and Sirius feels like half of him has died with his best friend.

He needs a drink.

As if he knew, Remus pulls out a bottle of firewhiskey from the dressing table drawer, knowing where James kept his emergency stash. There's a label on the bottle in his handwriting and Remus pulls it off, carefully setting it back in the drawer, feeling as if he's been burnt by the tiny bit of parchment and the little shudder that seeing James' scruffy handwriting brings. He conjures three glasses and pours generously.

Sirius downs his whilst Peter takes sips. Remus drinks a bit but like Peter, he realises that Sirius will need help by the end of this and if they are going to even attempt to deal with that, his friends need to be sober. At least, nearly. They all loved James dearly, and they are all suffering but Sirius will fall apart entirely. No amount of drink will take the edge off for him.

At least I might cope, Remus thinks. Sirius will not.

A drink or two later, Sirius starts to talk.

"I let him down," he says, gruffly.

Remus immediately tells him off. "No you didn't, Sirius. It's not your fault."

Sirius rests his head against his glass and his expression is contorted with pain. "He wasn't supposed to die." His voice cracks.

"Nobody ever is." Remus turns to Peter, shocked to hear him say something so haunting. It's a sign of the times that the ongoing cold has crept into the hearts of even the warmest people.

Sirius' shoulders start to shake and he drops his glass. It makes a muffled thudding noise as it hits the floor. Sirius hides his face.

Tears fall down Remus' face as he watches his friend cry, something he had never done before. Not with Sirius. He reaches out to him but Sirius doesn't react. It's James that helps. It's James that he needs. Peter walks out of the room and Remus sincerely doesn't blame him. James Potter is dead; the situation is far more dire than they could have ever conceived.