Sirius Black
It took a boy with messy black hair, the cry of 'Gryffindor!' and a howler in which he could almost feel the hand across his face to realize that nothing would ever be the same.
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He couldn't quite remember when he stopped being 'Lupin' and became 'Remus,' or when he stopped being 'Remus' and became 'Rem,' or when he stopped being 'Rem' and became 'Werewolf,' but he remembers it was a boiling hot night in the kitchens with a game of exploding snap when he stopped being 'Werewolf,' and became 'Moony.'
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Happiness was the sound of a wolf howling and laughter so wild it belonged in St Mungo's.
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All he could hear was (getoutgetout GET OUT!) anger and regret and his blood pounding in his ears and the clip of his trunk and the scream of (CRUCIO!) his mother as he finally decided that enough was enough and slammed the door so hard he thought it would have broken had it not been so fucking heavy.
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The first thing he noticed was that the hand was so fucking tiny that it couldn't have been James, and it was too soft to be Remus, and the fact that it was there in a comforting manor at all meant it sure as fuck wasn't Peter, so he turned around to tell her (Anna? Emma? Sarah?) that he wasn't-in-the-mood (to be a human) but a shock of bright red hair and a pair of lips on the top of his head and absolutely no judgment was the last thing he expected.
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He had no idea how to react to Lily Evans because he wanted to hold her hand and beat up the tosser who made her cry and he felt strange when he saw her, but the thought of Lily Evans being Lily Evans to him instead of just 'Lils' made his skin crawl, and it took him one butterbeer too many and a game of truth or dare to realize that she was his friend.
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He didn't know how to react to this, because he had never been friends with a girl before. He did broomclosetbuddies and girlfriendsuntilhegotbored and I'mdrunkandyou'relookinghot but he was Sirius Black, and Sirius Black didn't fucking do 'friendship.'
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He settled for treating her like a marauder, but with more inclination to beat people up for her.
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He liked that she didn't seem to mind.
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He never really wanted her and James to get together at first. He wasn't jealous, though Moony thought he was, but he was just worried because James was his best friend, and he loved him, but fuck's sake he could be a wanker, and he knew that he'd end up making Lily cry. He didn't want to have to beat James up.
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When he sent Snape down the tunnel, he wasn't thinking about Moony or Prongs or Wormy, but he was thinking about himself. And he was thinking that Snape would finally get what was coming to him (slimy git) and that he would have finally done something to contribute to the group because really, all he did was stand around looking dark and broody.
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He wouldn't have blamed Remus if he had never forgiven him again.
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He was astounded that he did.
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He couldn't remember when he stopped being an empty space in the hallway and became 'Black,' and then 'Sirius,' then 'Siri,' then 'Padfoot,' then 'So what time are you coming round, Pads?' but he thanked the God he didn't believe in every day that he did, because he knew he didn't deserve it.
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"Got a name?"
"Sirius."
"Sirius who?"
"Sirius Black."
"Like the old family?"
"Nah. The colour."
"Cool."
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He knew and it was (PeterPeternotPeter) terrible and he didn't want to believe it and he shouted and swore (solemnly) that he would get him back because Lily's eyes were open and so was her chest, and he'd already lost one brother and that kid (HarryHarrywherethefuckisHarry) was so fucking brilliant and how the hell could Peter do this.
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He had trusted him. They all had.
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They thought he was laughing because they were dead. He was laughing because he had been the one to tell Peter that he could blend in with sewer rats if needed, and growing up in a place like The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, you needed to appreciate irony to make it through.
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