I'm embarrassed that I ever turned him away. I mean, I could have let him hide out with me, could have saved him from thirteen years of hell. But I, the one whom he had never judged, had misjudged him. That night, that night that Lily and James died, he showed up, raving, at my door. I'm embarrassed to say that while I may have turned him away, I also didn't turn him in.

"Run," I told him. "Don't tell me what you did, I can guess, just leave, NOW!"

I didn't wait for a reply that night. Instead I threw the vase at him. I'd done it once before, but that time the excuse had provoked it, not a desire not to hear it.

Sirius left, like I asked him to, fleeing, that sad look shadowing his grey eyes. I thought that I would likely never see him again, and that couldn't have bothered me more if it tried. Sirius was gone… what was terrible wasn't his leaving, but what he had done, what the Sirius that I knew would NEVER do.

So, I am embarrassed to say that I kicked him out. If I had been there, maybe he wouldn't have gone after Peter on his own. Maybe I could have convinced him to stay away from him. Maybe he could have convinced Dumbledore to see his side of the story.

So now, I'm here, standing in front of him, he's at my door for the first time since then. There had once been time for this embarrassment, this particular issue. Now, there was all the time in the world. All the time to remember throwing that vase, to see the marks from it in the wood of the doorframe. And Sirius is just staring at me, eyes deep and impassive. Silently, our eyes lock, and I can see suddenly what I used to, his soul. If I had only thought to look that night… but I can't think of that now, not with his eyes so forgiving. He looks so different, but the soul is the same, just damaged. I can tell. I could always tell.

Wordlessly, he embraces me. This is so very different than that embrace in the shack, this is a different crime to forgive. But he's hugging me, and I'm hugging him, and we're both crying. Or maybe it's just me. I can't tell anymore. I'm in his arms, where I belong, and I can't imagine being anywhere else! I wouldn't want to be.

There's no need to speak, none. So we head inside without speaking. I don't have a guest room, I've never needed one. Sirius knows it, and knows well enough that he'll sleep in my bed tonight.

"Padfoot…" I say, uncertainly.

"Mooney?" It sounds as if he thinks that I'm about to talk about it, about that night.

"You need a bath."

And we both laughed as if the years had never gone by us.