Objects in the Rear View Mirror

by El Leon Y La Oveja

SONGFIC. TITLE FROM THE MEAT LOAF SONG. Set towards the end of OOTP, Sirius Black finds himself fighting another war. But this time, he doesn't have his best friend and brother by his side and he misses him. SB/JP friendship fic. Sirius POV.

Author's note:

OK, so I'm clearly failing at the songfic concept. They're supposed to be short! There's just always so much that I want to say! Anyway, this is a songfic I've had brewing ;) for a long time and I've finally written it. (Using the Meat Loaf song 'Objects in the Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are' ) It's Sirius POV, written towards the end of OOTP, reflecting on James and how much he misses his old friend. Mostly a Sirius/James friendship fic with some Lily/James and a tiny mention of Sirius/Marlene. NON-SLASH. Enjoy and please review if you've got any comments!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this song. Also, I did not write Harry Potter. If I had done, there would be MANY more scenes with Remus and Sirius and Sirius would not have died ;)

OBJECTS IN THE REAR VIEW MIRROR MAY APPEAR CLOSER THAN THEY ARE

The skies were pure and the fields were green

And the sun was brighter than it's ever been

We were young, arrogant and brilliant. The war was never meant to change everything. We planned to win and step into the shoes of the glorious heroes of the future. When we left Hogwarts and started living in the real world, the Marauders were changed forever.

When I grew up with my best friend Kenny

We were close as any brothers that you ever knew

You died. Pettigrew betrayed you, something I had honestly believed that he'd never do. For the rest of the world, the war was over but for me, it carried on until I escaped Azkaban and managed to convince your son of my innocence. Less than a year later, a second war began. This time, it was entirely different because I didn't have my brother fighting by my side. I didn't have you. Every single time I looked at your son, it hurt. And it made me feel better, both at the same time. I knew that part of you had survived.

It was always summer and the future called

We were ready for adventures and we wanted them all

You and I were the first two in our year to join the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore called us to his study late on night, shortly after your parents' deaths. I was devastated too. They'd practically adopted me. Dumbledore told us about the organisation that he'd formed and we recognised the names of some of our older friends. They'd joined up. We were so ready to fight Voldemort and to put our talents to good use. Before we knew what we were getting into, we were eager to fight.

And there was so much left to dream and so much time to make it real

You wanted to marry Lily Evans. I bought my own flat in London, close to Diagon Alley. We were living our lives like we'd always dreamed, for that final summer at least. In the September, we joined the Order and saw the reality of the war. We lost two people in our first battle. It got worse from that point but we never stopped fighting.

But I can still recall the sting of all the tears when he was gone

You were murdered on 31st October 1981. I went cold as I sank down beside your body in the ruins of Godric's Hollow. I must have cried and screamed and howled for an hour until Hagrid interrupted me. He took your son. I was numb with grief and anger and hate and guilt so I let him take Harry. I ran after Peter Pettigrew instead and he framed me for your murder. At first, I didn't care. I laughed. You knew the truth. You would come to clear my name. I still hadn't realised that you were gone.

They said he crashed and burned

When I escaped from Azkaban, Remus told me exactly what had happened to you and Lily. Strangely enough, I'd been the last to know. Even Harry, when faced with the Dementors, could hear screaming. I didn't know anything for twelve years, except that you were dead. And that it had been my fault.

I know I'll never learn why any boy should die so young

Merlin, you'd just had a kid. Your son was only a year old. There was so much that you wanted to do with him. You and Lily were twenty-one. I hated myself for rotting in Azkaban, for sitting behind bars but being alive whilst you were dead. It killed me that Pettigrew was roaming free when you couldn't. When he was responsible for your death. It wasn't fair but then again, I'd always known how unfair life could be. I just hadn't realised that I'd be reminded of that in the worst way imaginable.

We were racing, we were soldiers of fortune

We always found a way out of trouble, you and I. Whether it was avoiding detention or avoiding a stray Stunning Spell, we were always able to make it through alive. We spent full moons with a werewolf and we only laughed and joked about our near misses afterwards. There was too much that we didn't fear but should have.

We got in trouble but we sure got around

We took risks. You always told me that they made it more fun. Your son isn't like you, not in that way. I've often wished that he was but sometimes, I wonder if he's got the vigilance that we lacked. Either way, we always loved most of what we did. Up until you went into hiding. I'm fully beginning to understand how much you must have hated those days locked away in Godric's Hollow. Now that I'm stuck in Grimmauld Place, unable to fight, unable to contribute, I know how frustrated you must have been. Our friends were dying everyday and there was nothing that you could do.

There are times I think I see him peeling out of the dark

Sometimes, I used to wake up in Azkaban and see you sitting next to me. I'd grin and delight in seeing my best friend again after so many years. Then, a Dementor would feel my sudden happiness. Your grinning face would be replaced by a pale, cold and lifeless corpse. Wide hazel eyes, unblinking. They stared into mine until I was convinced that I had as good as murdered you myself. You haunted me for years.

I think he's right behind me now and he's gaining ground

Even now, I catch a glimpse of Harry out of the corner of my eye and have to stop myself from shouting 'Prongs!' across the room. Everyday I wish that you were here again. I imagine you in our meetings. I'd have someone to side with me. Remus thinks my ideas are too risky and dangerous and the rest of the Order think I'm slightly unbalanced. I know that you'd understand me.

But it was long ago and it was far away,

Oh God, it seems so very far

Fourteen years? Has it really been that long since I last saw you, Prongs? I keep a picture of the four of us on my bedroom wall, just to remind myself that the Marauders were happy once. I could have covered it over but those memories are the happiest I have of us. Now, one is dead, one's turned traitor and betrayed us and the final two are attempting to put the world back together again.

And if life is just a highway,

Then the soul is just a car

Life hasn't been particularly kind to either of us, not since we left school. I almost lost my soul to the Dementors- the one thing that I couldn't bear to lose. Take my youth, take my happiness, take twelve years of my life. I want to keep my memories, my ability to love, my loyalty, my courage and even now, I feel as though part of me has beaten the Dementors. They never managed to remove my humanity.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

It's hard to remember that everything happened so long ago. My life follows a different pattern to everyone else's. Remus had twelve years to grieve normally and to come to terms with the death of his two best friends. Azkaban isn't exactly the best environment for grieving naturally so when I escaped, I was still feeling hurt and agony and fear and loneliness from twelve years ago. The night I swam back to the mainland, I was expecting to find you. I'd never experienced freedom without you. It took me much longer to come to terms with what had happened.

And when the sun descended and the night arose

I heard my father cursing everyone he knows

In Grimmauld Place, I was suddenly confronted with my childhood. My mother's portrait still hangs on the wall to scream and curse and spit insults at me. I could pretend that it doesn't hurt anymore but that wouldn't be entirely true. I'd never wanted to hear her voice again. In every room, I can remember my father pacing, in a furious rage with me. Gryffindor badges cursed into shreds, gold and red scarves hurled into the fire and socks, underwear and dressing gowns charmed green and silver to match the house I hated. We snuck out to Diagon Alley to buy me new clothes after that. I wasn't turning up in our dormitory wearing a Slytherin dressing gown.

He was dangerous and drunk and defeated

And corroded by failure and envy and hate

My father's endless rants about Muggle-borns and house-elves and goblins and giants and werewolves still echo throughout the house. He enchanted pages of various books to scream his ridiculous ideologies whenever they were opened. As soon as I moved back in, the books met the flames of the fireplace even more rapidly than my Gryffindor scarves had done. When he'd been drinking Firewhisky with Uncle Cygnus, he was especially vocal. His prejudices were highlighted more than ever and he hated me for being everything that he disliked.

There were endless winters and the dreams would freeze

Nowhere to hide and no leaves on the trees

I stopped going home for Christmas. I'd either spend the holiday with you or I'd stay at school. The sight of the snow-covered grounds on Christmas morning was always a million miles away from everything that my family wouldn't celebrate at home. I'd get a present from my parents, usually a book on the evils of half-breeds or something equally disgusting. Even when I distanced myself from the Blacks, I couldn't escape them. I couldn't remove my name.

And my father's eyes were blank

As he hit me again and again and again

The night I finally cracked and left, the Cruciatus Curse was being cast mercilessly by my parents. Regulus was hiding upstairs, the coward. I hated them, I really did.

I know I still believe he'd never let me leave,

I had to run away alone

They wanted me to stay so that they could influence me and change my ideas. I slammed the front door on them instead, never once looking back. The Ministry sent me warning letters about the magic I used to summon my possessions out of the window but by that time, I was past caring about breaking the rules. I arrived on your doorstep as Padfoot, seeking refuge from the family who had detested me since I'd been sorted into Gryffindor.

So many threats and fears, so many wasted years

Before my life became my own

It seems like I spent most of my life fighting against Dark wizards. First, my family and then the Death Eaters. There was never a point where I could say that I was free from them. By the time I escaped Azkaban, there was another war to fight. I always wanted the chance to fight that war against the Dark Arts and I got more chances than I'd ever imagined. More than I really wanted.

And though the nightmares should be over

Some of the terrors are still intact

The memories come flooding back at night, when I'm in my old bedroom. It might have Gryffindor banners and old photographs and letters but it's in the same house and I can't forget. The reminder of my father blasting the door open and threatening me with his wand until I show him who I'm writing to. My mother's shrill screech, echoing along the landing. The tapestry on the wall that my family revered. The tapestry that I tried, without success, to remove completely.

I'll hear that ugly coarse and violent voice

And then he grabs me from behind and then he pulls me back

Wherever I go, my name has always followed me and now is no exception. Even Harry, your son, was shocked when he discovered who my ancestors were and what they believed. Kreacher is a living embodiment of everything that they stood for and he is still here, everyday reminding me of the family I hated and the ridiculous prejudices I have always longed to escape.

There was a beauty living on the edge of town

And she always put the top up and the hammer down

It's not just you I miss. All my friends, aside from a handful, were killed in the First War. I remember Marlene McKinnon and how I'd always liked her. We spent the best part of seven years flirting, going on casual dates and nothing was ever serious. When she died, I wished that I'd made the most of having her around when I could. We could have had a real relationship, if we weren't both too young and carefree to realise that time was limited.

And she taught me everything I'll ever know

About the mystery and the muscle of love

I miss Lily. After Hogwarts, she wasn't just your girlfriend anymore, she was another of the few people who I knew that I could trust. When she was worried about you, she came to me and her loving, accepting, unbelievably kind nature never ceased to amaze me. Apart from you, she was one of the only people who could calm me down and get me to think before rushing into something. No wonder I was completely irrational when neither of you were there.

Those were the rights of spring and we did everything

There was salvation every night

Even throughout the First War, we had friends and something to fight for that Voldemort would never have understood. On your wedding day, everyone forgot about Voldemort, about Death Eaters, about the war and we celebrated love and friendship and brotherhood. True, there were gaps where old friends should have stood but it was as perfect as it could have been.

We got our dreams reborn and our upholstery torn

But everything we tried was right

The Prewett twins died shortly after that, along with half of the old Gryffindor Quidditch team, most of the guests from your wedding and a significant proportion of the Order. Not long before Harry's first birthday, the Death Eaters killed the entire McKinnon family and I was becoming desperate for success, for victory. You'd gone into hiding with Lily and Harry. Everything was too unpredictable. We'd never imagined that our lives would turn out like that.

She used her body just like a bandage, she used my body just like a wound

I'll probably never know where she disappeared

I missed Marlene because I missed my chance. I suspected that you'd always known how much I liked her and we did talk about it, a few days after she died. The nights after the worst battles, we used to go for a quiet drink, usually at the Hog's Head because it was safe with Aberforth. He knew who he could serve and who to send away. We sought comfort from each other and when she was gone, there were increasingly fewer people I could turn to. I don't even remember the last time that I saw her. If I'd have realised it was the last time, I would have memorised everything she said, what she was wearing, where we went. I would have told her that I loved her.

But I can see her rising up out of the back seat now

Just like an angel rising up from a tomb

Sometimes, I think that I'm hearing Lily. In the back of my mind, something she once said comes back to me and I recall memories that I believed had been stolen from me in Azkaban. I think of Lily when I see Harry because he is undoubtedly your son but with Lily's bright green eyes.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

We're in the middle of the Second War, Prongs and you're not here.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

Lily's not here to give me advice, although I automatically look for her during meetings, wondering what she's going to say, wondering if she agrees with me. Then I remember.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

Dumbledore doesn't seem to trust me like he once did. He thinks that Azkaban changed me. It didn't. What changed me was your death, the death of my brother at the hand of one of our best friends.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

Even Remus doesn't look at me like he used to. I'm not sure what he's worried about but we can't rebuild the kind of friendship that we once had. Too much has come between us.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

Harry looks like you. Enough that he serves as a constant reminder of his parents, not enough that I confuse the two of you. The rest of the Order believes that I can't tell the difference. I can. Whatever Harry is, however brilliant he may be in his own way, he's not you, Prongs.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are

Fourteen years is such a long time. It doesn't seem to be so long in my mind. I can only grasp how long fourteen years of peace is when I think about where I've been. Azkaban for twelve years that felt like one hundred whilst I was inside and twelve hours as soon as I escaped.

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are.

Either way, you're not here, are you?