Closer


Author's Notes: The story's a little (actually, a lot) darker than I originally intended, but once I started, I couldn't stop. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome and very much appreciated.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters and universe are the sole property of J.K. Rowling, et al.


James had never known. Not when he put the ring on her finger or put their baby in her arms or put his body in front of hers at the final moment. Sirius should've been relieved, but the knowledge crushed him like the straw that broke the camel's back because he'd never wanted lies between them and he'd never wanted this. He'd just needed a space to fit—needed to know he could press in beside Prongs, close like blood and breath, needed to know he could be there even when Lily was pale and naked underneath his best friend. Her skin had been an easy place to leave his lips and the brush of his fringe and the damp warmth of his sweat and her arms had cradled him like he was the whole world. It had been hard to believe he'd ruined her. That's why he hadn't stopped. She'd been one thing he couldn't ruin, despite his best attempts, because she had never, ever been his. Between him and James, she'd always have chosen James, but then, so would he. Moony had known it, too, or he might not have kept his mouth shut when he smelled the wrong mark on his best friend's wife. He'd kept his mouth shut, but nothing had been the same and he'd said you're a traitor until he'd believed it, until it had been true. Peter had killed James and Lily, had nearly killed their son, but Sirius had had first blood. He had their blood all over his hands and, though he'd expected to feel close—closer than he'd ever been, in all his years of trying—he'd never felt so far away before, never been so much the traitor as when he lived.