Disclaimer: I'm not J K Rowling, I never have been, never will be and don't
own Harry Potter or anything else in this fic.
Rating: PG-13 for slash
Summary: Sirius' thoughts and worries in the lead up to James and Lily making Peter their Secret Keeper.
A/N: This is something very different to what I usually write, style-wise, but I'm quite proud of it now I've finished. Let me know if you think it works.
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I always did watch you sleeping. I used to enjoy it, seeing you peaceful as you never were awake, and always looking so much younger, too, younger and vulnerable. But now you just look secretive, curled on your side with your back to me as though you are hiding something.
Of course, you always were secretive. We have the werewolf to blame for that; it was a necessity for you, wasn't it? Lies you had to tell, questions you had to avoid... Did it just become a habit? Am I reading too much into it?
I don't want to believe it. I denied it, defended you to James... not you, not my Remus. You would never betray us. But all the evidence is pointing that way. I can't ignore it any more.
And so I lie here awake instead of curling around you as I usually do, watching you sleeping and arguing with myself. There's only one conclusion I can draw, and that's the one I'm trying to avoid. My thoughts run round and round in circles, keeping me awake.
I never used to think of you as a Dark Creature. Oh, I knew you were, knew somewhere in the back of my mind where it didn't bother me, but every time I looked at you I just saw Remus. My friend, then my lover. I know when it changed, when I really realised what it meant that you were a werewolf. No, not Snape, as perhaps you would expect. I know you would have killed him, but I do not blame you for that, I blame myself.
It was a Tuesday evening early in June. I had been at work all day, and you had been busy for the Order. We were relaxing in our living room; the windows open to catch a breeze, you reading and I finishing a report. And then you looked up, looked up so quickly it caught my attention. You stared off to the north as though you could see through the walls of the flat, and you went as pale as bone. I will never forget the look of fear in your eyes.
"What?" I asked, my report forgotten. I had never seen you look so scared, not through all we had done at school and afterwards. "What is it, Re?"
"I... He's calling us. Voldemort. He's... summoning... his Dark Creatures. I can feel... Sirius, help me!"
It happened again, and again, and every time you would cling to me, and I would kiss you and hold you and whisper to you. I would stroke your hair and pray that I could keep you safe from yourself. You even cried, once. I have seen you cry three times in your life, and that was one of them. And I knew then that whatever I could do would not, in the end, be enough. We had known before, that Dark Creatures were flocking to his cause, but I never dreamt that would include you.
And then it stopped. The last time it happened was maybe three months ago.
I did not tell James, not right away. I wonder if you knew that? I used to tell him everything, but this I kept our secret. I justified it by telling myself that James was under enough stress already. He was worried for Lily and Harry; they knew Voldemort was after them. Every time I saw him he looked worse. Tired and strained, dark shadows under his eyes and thinner every time.
Eventually he told us that there was a traitor. Someone close to him and Lily, who had been passing information to Voldemort. They had known this for almost a year, he and Lily and Dumbledore, before they gave in and told us. I remember the look of horror on your face. Peter just looked blank. So naïve; I think he must have believed it was impossible that someone would turn sides. James told us that Dumbledore was looking into ways of keeping them safe. That reassured me.
And after the meeting, while you were talking to Peter – we don't see him often enough any more – James took me to one side. The spy had to be one of us, he said; the sort of information that was being passed to Voldemort just wouldn't be known by anyone else. I did not think he suspected me, or why would he be telling me this? And then his eyes flicked across the room, and I understood. He thought you were the spy. I was horrified. You would never betray us, never. But I remembered the summoning, how you had felt it and how I had been so scared that you would be unable to stop yourself answering.
By then I had told James our secret. He had noticed you acting strangely. You were distracted, vague, always looking almost as tired and ill as after a full moon. I had had to explain it, and I had thought that he would understand.
We had discussed it, and said that maybe Voldemort had stopped calling because there was nothing more to call. He knew that there were no more Dark Creatures that would come. Maybe that was truer than I thought.
But I defended you. How could I not? My brain was telling me that all the clues added up, but you have always told me that I never use it, never listen to it. My heart – because I love you, Re, you know that – was telling me that you were stronger than that, that I would have known if the summoning had been successful.
And James just looked at me. In the end I had to agree that it was possible. Possible that you were passing secrets to our enemies. I supposed that the summoning Voldemort had used must work something like the Imperius curse.
But James shook his head. He looked older than I had ever seen him, and sadder. He spoke quietly, but I heard every word.
"Has it ever occurred to you that he might be doing it willingly?"
You knew there was something wrong when we went home that evening. You kept asking if I was all right, if I wanted to talk about it. I could scarcely endure the concern in your voice; I could not stand to meet your eyes and see the worry there, wondering if it was all an act. I can't remember what excuse I made. Probably I told you that it was to do with this new threat to James. You would have accepted that; you know how close we always were, and you know I love little Harry.
Dumbledore suggested the Fidelius Charm. It took some explaining – only Lily had heard of it, and that only in passing – but we agreed it was the best idea. And of course, James wanted me for Secret-Keeper. Dumbledore offered to do it himself, but James was adamant. Lily agreed with him, which surprised me; I know she never liked me much, or thought me particularly reliable.
We told you and Peter. James was convinced that you were the spy, and I was starting to believe it myself, though I still thought it would be as the result of a spell, never voluntarily. But James said that we should not give you any hint that we were on to you. He sounded so ruthless, so cold. So unlike the James we knew at school. But in his situation I suppose any of us would have changed. It was the only way he could deal with the constant fear.
Peter nodded. He agreed that I was the best choice as Secret-Keeper. The only choice James could have made, really. I looked at you. There was a look of terrible, terrible sadness on your face. It hasn't left you since.
We flew back on my bike, and you didn't say a word. You held onto me as tightly as always – you never did like the bike, did you? – but when we got home you just gave me a tiny smile, nothing like the ones I am used to, and went straight up to bed.
I didn't want to talk to you. Perhaps I should have made an effort, but I didn't want to hear whatever lies you would tell. I waited downstairs, reading – that in itself should have told anyone that all was not right – until I was sure you would be asleep. In the morning, I left for work before you were awake.
I have followed the same pattern for the last three days. We speak briefly in the evenings, but the conversation is strained. I can't bear the sorrow in your eyes, and I can't face the answer to why it is there.
Once the Charm is cast, Voldemort will not be able to find Lily and James unless I tell them. There is no way I would do that, no way I would ever betray them. You know that. Have you already told your master? Do you know what is planned for me? Is that why you can't muster a smile for me any more, why you never laugh?
Will he expect you to be the one to kill me? You know the Charm will break with my death and you are perfectly placed for it, if you are not too scared to show where your allegiance lies. And you never lacked for courage; as true a Gryffindor as James or I.
You see, I have talked myself into believing you a traitor, even into believing you would turn sides willingly. But when I watch you sleeping, I doubt. It is so hard to reconcile my thoughts of the last few months with the Remus I have known and loved for years. When you sleep, there is none of the sorrow or fear that has coloured your face these last few months, and I can almost forget why it was there.
Perhaps if I go to sleep, and pretend none of this ever happened, I will wake up to find it has been a bad dream. I will tell you and you will be horrified, and tell me that you would never, never betray any of us. We can kiss and make up, and I will believe you.
I lay down beside you, letting one arm fall over your waist as I always do. I rest my head half on the pillow and half on your shoulder. It has become almost impossible for me to sleep any other way, did you know that? I kiss the back of your neck, a silent apology for ending up in this situation, for failing to keep you safe. And if you do this willingly? Well... I still can't help but love you. You do not wake up, but I see you smile, and you snuggle against me, one hand hooking itself around mine. There are tears in my eyes, but I will not cry. I will not.
When I wake up in the morning, you are gone. It is still dark outside; I will be the first one in the office as I have been the last three days. People there have been asking what is wrong, but I dodge their questions as I dodge yours.
I dress in the dark, grab my wand from the bedside table and head downstairs. I will eat on my way in, but I have a cup of coffee first. You would marvel at the lengths I go to avoid you, I who have always hated mornings. I need that cup of coffee, or I would scarcely be able to walk in a straight line to get to work.
The living room is dark, but the curtains are open and in the faint starlight I see you sitting in front of the fireplace. You are wearing the old, tatty dressing gown I say should have been replaced years ago, though you are far too attached to it to do so, and you are staring at where the flames should be.
I wonder whether I should say something, but you save me the decision.
"I thought you must be doing this," you say, not looking around at me. Your voice is as hoarse as it gets after a full moon, so quiet that it would not be heard later in the day when the traffic and our neighbours have woken up. "Going into work early to avoid me. What's wrong, Sirius? What have I done?"
And now you do look at me, but I cannot see your face in this darkness. I do not need to. The tone of your voice is enough, the despair in it. Suddenly I have hope. It seems you must be the traitor – I know it is not me, so who else can it be – but if you knew what you were doing, if you had gone over of your own accord, then this is not what you would be asking. You would be asking how I had found you out, or maybe just silencing me before I caused trouble.
"Re, I..." How can I tell you? How can I explain the horrid turn my thoughts have been taking?
"I'm sorry, Re. It's nothing you've done." I'm sure of that now. "I'm just so worried... about James and Lily and Harry... The Fidelius Charm will be done by the end of this week; I'll be much happier when I'm sure they're safe."
"I suppose... I suppose once it's done, you'll have to go into hiding yourself? No point in the Charm if the Secret-Keeper keeps putting himself in danger. I expect it makes sense that you'd want a... a clean break. Dragging it out would be worse, I suppose. I just wish... I wish you could have warned me." Your words are alternatively choked out and stumbling over one another in haste.
My heart is suddenly a hundred times lighter. This is why you have been so miserable. This is why you have been unable to smile at me. Because you think I will have to leave you; that I'm keeping you at arms' length to stop myself from hurting so much. It was true that I had been planning on going into hiding, but that was partly because of what we had thought you were.
I take a hesitant step towards you, and another, and another. When I reach you I find that you are staring into the empty fireplace again, your hands clasped in your lap. You seem to have shrunk in on yourself. Perhaps you are trying to protect yourself from the pain you think I am going to cause.
"Re..." My own throat seems choked now. "I'm sorry. I've been stupid... and cruel."
You look up at me. In this darkness I can't quite make out your expression, but maybe it is hope. I take you in my arms, hold you as tightly as I can. Despite my resolution last night, I am crying now, as I kiss you. Our lips meet; for a moment you seem numb, you do not respond, but then your arms fold themselves around me and you are kissing me back with such hunger. I love you so much... I know I've told you before, but I wonder if you really know just how much you mean to me?
We pull apart. I touch your cheek; it's wet. Are those my tears or yours? Have I hurt you even more, even while I am trying to cure the damage I have done so far?
"Are you all right?"
"As long as you're here, I will be." That's a startling admission from you. You've told me you love me, but I did not know you depended on me so much. The truth of your words is in your voice, and the unspoken truth as well; that if I leave you will not be all right any more.
I cannot lose you. I will not allow it. Even if you are the traitor. What does that make me, that I would put my love for you ahead of the safety of my best friend, my one-year-old godson? That I would risk their lives because I cannot give you up? But I know what I must do.
I get to my feet. You make a tiny noise, involuntary. You don't want me to leave you again. "I have to go," I tell you. "But I'll be back. I promise."
You wipe my – our – tears from my face with a sleeve of that ridiculous dressing gown, and kiss me, very briefly. "Don't work too late," you say, your voice almost normal again. And tonight I won't.
I Disapparate, but I do not go to work. I let myself into James' house; I know my way through the wards. It is still very early, but the light is on in their downstairs window. James always leaves early for work so that he can be home early to spend time with his son.
He cries out in alarm to see me at this hour. Lily rushes in from the kitchen; the jug she is holding slips out of her hand when she sees me.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"I can't be your Secret-Keeper."
They both cry out again.
"Why not?" asks James.
"Sirius, we're relying on you."
I know they are, but I cannot help this. I feel terrible, but there is no going back now.
"You can use someone else; the spell will work just as well. I'd suggest Peter; no one would ever suspect him. It's the perfect bluff. They're bound to come straight after me. We won't tell anyone about the change of plan, not even Dumbledore..."
"But, Sirius, why?" James is persistent. He still looks scared.
"I... can't guarantee that I won't give you away." It is so much effort to force each word out. James looks like he can't believe what he is hearing. "I wouldn't mean to, of course I wouldn't, but... if... if Remus is the spy..." Lily gives James such a sudden, startled look that I know he has not told her of his suspicions.
"I can't leave him, James. I'm sorry, so sorry, but I... I can't do it." The disbelief is still plain on his face. I have never let him down before.
"Could you walk out of this house," I ask, the words falling into place as if I had planned them, "knowing that you could never come back? Could you say goodbye to Lily as if everything is normal, knowing that you can never see her again?" He looks stricken. In his suspicion of you, he has forgotten what you mean to me.
"And if Remus asks... I can't... I can't guarantee..." I wonder if he knows how much this admission is costing me. To tell him that I would betray him for my love for you. The look on his face tells me that he suspects how hard it is for me to say this. We sit in silence, James staring at me, Lily staring at him.
"I think," he says eventually, speaking very slowly and carefully, "that you're not giving yourself enough credit, Sirius." He does understand. He understands that I would never choose to give him away but that I fear I would be unable to help it. "But I won't make you do this if you feel you can't."
It feels as though a huge weight has lifted from my shoulders. I have let everyone down, this last week or so, but I will do better in the future. I will be what help I can to James, even if I cannot do this one thing for him, and I will never turn against you again, Remus.
"Thank you."
Rating: PG-13 for slash
Summary: Sirius' thoughts and worries in the lead up to James and Lily making Peter their Secret Keeper.
A/N: This is something very different to what I usually write, style-wise, but I'm quite proud of it now I've finished. Let me know if you think it works.
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I always did watch you sleeping. I used to enjoy it, seeing you peaceful as you never were awake, and always looking so much younger, too, younger and vulnerable. But now you just look secretive, curled on your side with your back to me as though you are hiding something.
Of course, you always were secretive. We have the werewolf to blame for that; it was a necessity for you, wasn't it? Lies you had to tell, questions you had to avoid... Did it just become a habit? Am I reading too much into it?
I don't want to believe it. I denied it, defended you to James... not you, not my Remus. You would never betray us. But all the evidence is pointing that way. I can't ignore it any more.
And so I lie here awake instead of curling around you as I usually do, watching you sleeping and arguing with myself. There's only one conclusion I can draw, and that's the one I'm trying to avoid. My thoughts run round and round in circles, keeping me awake.
I never used to think of you as a Dark Creature. Oh, I knew you were, knew somewhere in the back of my mind where it didn't bother me, but every time I looked at you I just saw Remus. My friend, then my lover. I know when it changed, when I really realised what it meant that you were a werewolf. No, not Snape, as perhaps you would expect. I know you would have killed him, but I do not blame you for that, I blame myself.
It was a Tuesday evening early in June. I had been at work all day, and you had been busy for the Order. We were relaxing in our living room; the windows open to catch a breeze, you reading and I finishing a report. And then you looked up, looked up so quickly it caught my attention. You stared off to the north as though you could see through the walls of the flat, and you went as pale as bone. I will never forget the look of fear in your eyes.
"What?" I asked, my report forgotten. I had never seen you look so scared, not through all we had done at school and afterwards. "What is it, Re?"
"I... He's calling us. Voldemort. He's... summoning... his Dark Creatures. I can feel... Sirius, help me!"
It happened again, and again, and every time you would cling to me, and I would kiss you and hold you and whisper to you. I would stroke your hair and pray that I could keep you safe from yourself. You even cried, once. I have seen you cry three times in your life, and that was one of them. And I knew then that whatever I could do would not, in the end, be enough. We had known before, that Dark Creatures were flocking to his cause, but I never dreamt that would include you.
And then it stopped. The last time it happened was maybe three months ago.
I did not tell James, not right away. I wonder if you knew that? I used to tell him everything, but this I kept our secret. I justified it by telling myself that James was under enough stress already. He was worried for Lily and Harry; they knew Voldemort was after them. Every time I saw him he looked worse. Tired and strained, dark shadows under his eyes and thinner every time.
Eventually he told us that there was a traitor. Someone close to him and Lily, who had been passing information to Voldemort. They had known this for almost a year, he and Lily and Dumbledore, before they gave in and told us. I remember the look of horror on your face. Peter just looked blank. So naïve; I think he must have believed it was impossible that someone would turn sides. James told us that Dumbledore was looking into ways of keeping them safe. That reassured me.
And after the meeting, while you were talking to Peter – we don't see him often enough any more – James took me to one side. The spy had to be one of us, he said; the sort of information that was being passed to Voldemort just wouldn't be known by anyone else. I did not think he suspected me, or why would he be telling me this? And then his eyes flicked across the room, and I understood. He thought you were the spy. I was horrified. You would never betray us, never. But I remembered the summoning, how you had felt it and how I had been so scared that you would be unable to stop yourself answering.
By then I had told James our secret. He had noticed you acting strangely. You were distracted, vague, always looking almost as tired and ill as after a full moon. I had had to explain it, and I had thought that he would understand.
We had discussed it, and said that maybe Voldemort had stopped calling because there was nothing more to call. He knew that there were no more Dark Creatures that would come. Maybe that was truer than I thought.
But I defended you. How could I not? My brain was telling me that all the clues added up, but you have always told me that I never use it, never listen to it. My heart – because I love you, Re, you know that – was telling me that you were stronger than that, that I would have known if the summoning had been successful.
And James just looked at me. In the end I had to agree that it was possible. Possible that you were passing secrets to our enemies. I supposed that the summoning Voldemort had used must work something like the Imperius curse.
But James shook his head. He looked older than I had ever seen him, and sadder. He spoke quietly, but I heard every word.
"Has it ever occurred to you that he might be doing it willingly?"
You knew there was something wrong when we went home that evening. You kept asking if I was all right, if I wanted to talk about it. I could scarcely endure the concern in your voice; I could not stand to meet your eyes and see the worry there, wondering if it was all an act. I can't remember what excuse I made. Probably I told you that it was to do with this new threat to James. You would have accepted that; you know how close we always were, and you know I love little Harry.
Dumbledore suggested the Fidelius Charm. It took some explaining – only Lily had heard of it, and that only in passing – but we agreed it was the best idea. And of course, James wanted me for Secret-Keeper. Dumbledore offered to do it himself, but James was adamant. Lily agreed with him, which surprised me; I know she never liked me much, or thought me particularly reliable.
We told you and Peter. James was convinced that you were the spy, and I was starting to believe it myself, though I still thought it would be as the result of a spell, never voluntarily. But James said that we should not give you any hint that we were on to you. He sounded so ruthless, so cold. So unlike the James we knew at school. But in his situation I suppose any of us would have changed. It was the only way he could deal with the constant fear.
Peter nodded. He agreed that I was the best choice as Secret-Keeper. The only choice James could have made, really. I looked at you. There was a look of terrible, terrible sadness on your face. It hasn't left you since.
We flew back on my bike, and you didn't say a word. You held onto me as tightly as always – you never did like the bike, did you? – but when we got home you just gave me a tiny smile, nothing like the ones I am used to, and went straight up to bed.
I didn't want to talk to you. Perhaps I should have made an effort, but I didn't want to hear whatever lies you would tell. I waited downstairs, reading – that in itself should have told anyone that all was not right – until I was sure you would be asleep. In the morning, I left for work before you were awake.
I have followed the same pattern for the last three days. We speak briefly in the evenings, but the conversation is strained. I can't bear the sorrow in your eyes, and I can't face the answer to why it is there.
Once the Charm is cast, Voldemort will not be able to find Lily and James unless I tell them. There is no way I would do that, no way I would ever betray them. You know that. Have you already told your master? Do you know what is planned for me? Is that why you can't muster a smile for me any more, why you never laugh?
Will he expect you to be the one to kill me? You know the Charm will break with my death and you are perfectly placed for it, if you are not too scared to show where your allegiance lies. And you never lacked for courage; as true a Gryffindor as James or I.
You see, I have talked myself into believing you a traitor, even into believing you would turn sides willingly. But when I watch you sleeping, I doubt. It is so hard to reconcile my thoughts of the last few months with the Remus I have known and loved for years. When you sleep, there is none of the sorrow or fear that has coloured your face these last few months, and I can almost forget why it was there.
Perhaps if I go to sleep, and pretend none of this ever happened, I will wake up to find it has been a bad dream. I will tell you and you will be horrified, and tell me that you would never, never betray any of us. We can kiss and make up, and I will believe you.
I lay down beside you, letting one arm fall over your waist as I always do. I rest my head half on the pillow and half on your shoulder. It has become almost impossible for me to sleep any other way, did you know that? I kiss the back of your neck, a silent apology for ending up in this situation, for failing to keep you safe. And if you do this willingly? Well... I still can't help but love you. You do not wake up, but I see you smile, and you snuggle against me, one hand hooking itself around mine. There are tears in my eyes, but I will not cry. I will not.
When I wake up in the morning, you are gone. It is still dark outside; I will be the first one in the office as I have been the last three days. People there have been asking what is wrong, but I dodge their questions as I dodge yours.
I dress in the dark, grab my wand from the bedside table and head downstairs. I will eat on my way in, but I have a cup of coffee first. You would marvel at the lengths I go to avoid you, I who have always hated mornings. I need that cup of coffee, or I would scarcely be able to walk in a straight line to get to work.
The living room is dark, but the curtains are open and in the faint starlight I see you sitting in front of the fireplace. You are wearing the old, tatty dressing gown I say should have been replaced years ago, though you are far too attached to it to do so, and you are staring at where the flames should be.
I wonder whether I should say something, but you save me the decision.
"I thought you must be doing this," you say, not looking around at me. Your voice is as hoarse as it gets after a full moon, so quiet that it would not be heard later in the day when the traffic and our neighbours have woken up. "Going into work early to avoid me. What's wrong, Sirius? What have I done?"
And now you do look at me, but I cannot see your face in this darkness. I do not need to. The tone of your voice is enough, the despair in it. Suddenly I have hope. It seems you must be the traitor – I know it is not me, so who else can it be – but if you knew what you were doing, if you had gone over of your own accord, then this is not what you would be asking. You would be asking how I had found you out, or maybe just silencing me before I caused trouble.
"Re, I..." How can I tell you? How can I explain the horrid turn my thoughts have been taking?
"I'm sorry, Re. It's nothing you've done." I'm sure of that now. "I'm just so worried... about James and Lily and Harry... The Fidelius Charm will be done by the end of this week; I'll be much happier when I'm sure they're safe."
"I suppose... I suppose once it's done, you'll have to go into hiding yourself? No point in the Charm if the Secret-Keeper keeps putting himself in danger. I expect it makes sense that you'd want a... a clean break. Dragging it out would be worse, I suppose. I just wish... I wish you could have warned me." Your words are alternatively choked out and stumbling over one another in haste.
My heart is suddenly a hundred times lighter. This is why you have been so miserable. This is why you have been unable to smile at me. Because you think I will have to leave you; that I'm keeping you at arms' length to stop myself from hurting so much. It was true that I had been planning on going into hiding, but that was partly because of what we had thought you were.
I take a hesitant step towards you, and another, and another. When I reach you I find that you are staring into the empty fireplace again, your hands clasped in your lap. You seem to have shrunk in on yourself. Perhaps you are trying to protect yourself from the pain you think I am going to cause.
"Re..." My own throat seems choked now. "I'm sorry. I've been stupid... and cruel."
You look up at me. In this darkness I can't quite make out your expression, but maybe it is hope. I take you in my arms, hold you as tightly as I can. Despite my resolution last night, I am crying now, as I kiss you. Our lips meet; for a moment you seem numb, you do not respond, but then your arms fold themselves around me and you are kissing me back with such hunger. I love you so much... I know I've told you before, but I wonder if you really know just how much you mean to me?
We pull apart. I touch your cheek; it's wet. Are those my tears or yours? Have I hurt you even more, even while I am trying to cure the damage I have done so far?
"Are you all right?"
"As long as you're here, I will be." That's a startling admission from you. You've told me you love me, but I did not know you depended on me so much. The truth of your words is in your voice, and the unspoken truth as well; that if I leave you will not be all right any more.
I cannot lose you. I will not allow it. Even if you are the traitor. What does that make me, that I would put my love for you ahead of the safety of my best friend, my one-year-old godson? That I would risk their lives because I cannot give you up? But I know what I must do.
I get to my feet. You make a tiny noise, involuntary. You don't want me to leave you again. "I have to go," I tell you. "But I'll be back. I promise."
You wipe my – our – tears from my face with a sleeve of that ridiculous dressing gown, and kiss me, very briefly. "Don't work too late," you say, your voice almost normal again. And tonight I won't.
I Disapparate, but I do not go to work. I let myself into James' house; I know my way through the wards. It is still very early, but the light is on in their downstairs window. James always leaves early for work so that he can be home early to spend time with his son.
He cries out in alarm to see me at this hour. Lily rushes in from the kitchen; the jug she is holding slips out of her hand when she sees me.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"I can't be your Secret-Keeper."
They both cry out again.
"Why not?" asks James.
"Sirius, we're relying on you."
I know they are, but I cannot help this. I feel terrible, but there is no going back now.
"You can use someone else; the spell will work just as well. I'd suggest Peter; no one would ever suspect him. It's the perfect bluff. They're bound to come straight after me. We won't tell anyone about the change of plan, not even Dumbledore..."
"But, Sirius, why?" James is persistent. He still looks scared.
"I... can't guarantee that I won't give you away." It is so much effort to force each word out. James looks like he can't believe what he is hearing. "I wouldn't mean to, of course I wouldn't, but... if... if Remus is the spy..." Lily gives James such a sudden, startled look that I know he has not told her of his suspicions.
"I can't leave him, James. I'm sorry, so sorry, but I... I can't do it." The disbelief is still plain on his face. I have never let him down before.
"Could you walk out of this house," I ask, the words falling into place as if I had planned them, "knowing that you could never come back? Could you say goodbye to Lily as if everything is normal, knowing that you can never see her again?" He looks stricken. In his suspicion of you, he has forgotten what you mean to me.
"And if Remus asks... I can't... I can't guarantee..." I wonder if he knows how much this admission is costing me. To tell him that I would betray him for my love for you. The look on his face tells me that he suspects how hard it is for me to say this. We sit in silence, James staring at me, Lily staring at him.
"I think," he says eventually, speaking very slowly and carefully, "that you're not giving yourself enough credit, Sirius." He does understand. He understands that I would never choose to give him away but that I fear I would be unable to help it. "But I won't make you do this if you feel you can't."
It feels as though a huge weight has lifted from my shoulders. I have let everyone down, this last week or so, but I will do better in the future. I will be what help I can to James, even if I cannot do this one thing for him, and I will never turn against you again, Remus.
"Thank you."