Euphemia Potter had always put faith in her instincts. They had seen her through many situations throughout her life and they hadn't failed her yet. When her husband scoffed at the notion of putting stock in such small things, she only had to glance knowingly at the most recent letter sent to them from the exasperated Professor McGonagall to silence his doubts. Her son was a good boy and she loved him very dearly, but she would not have been able to keep up with all of his antics had it not been for her keen instincts and the realization that the house seemed just a little too quiet. James Potter was a force to be reckoned with, but he had to get passed his mother's intuition in order to fully get away with anything he did.
It was because of this intuition that she found herself seated on the couch in their family room long after Fleamont and James had left her with yawned farewells as they headed to bed for the night. Despite the lateness of the hour, she didn't feel the need for sleep. Instead, she was surprisingly awake and alert. It wasn't unusual for her to stay up later than the other members of her family. She usually took a few silent hours to herself to get through a few chapters of a novel or spent some time cleaning the places she couldn't usually get to with two rowdy men running around the house. It was her way of relaxing at the end of the day, and it was far from a strange occurrence.
However, she felt that tonight was different. There was no explanation for the feeling and no hints as to what it might mean, but she couldn't ignore it. It wasn't quite the same as when she knew that James was up to something, but it was somehow similar. She quickly dismissed the notion. It couldn't be James since he was sound asleep in his room. The thought had barely formed in her mind before years of experience had her quietly checking her son's room to make sure he was indeed still there and not causing mischief. She was relieved to see that he was in fact fast asleep in his bed, but it still left her wondering about the nature of her feelings. If it wasn't James, then what could possibly be making her feel like this?
With no answers, she was left to wait it out and see what came of the night. She tried reading the novel that James had gotten for her last Christmas. It did provide a welcome distraction once she became immersed in the plot, but every creak of the house or loud yap of a neighbor's dog had her glancing anxiously at the front door. Something was coming.
A sudden, very loud sound nearly gave her a heart attack and made her jump a fairly impressive distance off of the couch. Once she managed to get her heart rate back within normal parameters, she took a moment to identify the noise. It had almost sounded like something had been shrieking in her front yard. What on Earth could that have been?
She started to get up to investigate, hesitating for a brief moment to wonder if she should wake her husband. She quickly discarded the idea and confidently strode towards the door. If the noise hadn't managed to wake him, then her own efforts would most likely take too long and give whatever had caused the sound a chance to get away. She knew that she would have to do this on her own, and she was ready to face whatever lurked in the night.
With her wand in an easily accessible place just in case anything happened, she threw open the door. What she saw startled her and left her slightly dumbfounded. Of all the things she had expected to find, she had not imagined seeing Sirius Black.
The boy was the spitting image of despair. The warm glow that flowed from the inside of the house onto the front stoop barely seemed to touch him, only reaching far enough to graze his shoes and gently brush away a few of the shadows on his face. The void of night and shadows clung to him like a cloak, almost as if it was warding off any attempts of light or happiness from ever reaching him. His whole bearing, which was that of his usual detached politeness that he fell into so easily when James wasn't around, was obviously held together by his sheer force of will. He looked like he would crumble to pieces at any moment right before her eyes.
She stared with her mouth slightly agape, unsure of what to do. He stared back, equally hesitant and anxious. After a few moments of unmoving silence, Sirius tilted his head slightly and grinned. "Hey, Mrs. Potter."
That grin that she had seen so many times before was an empty imitation that could hardly hold itself together long enough to be believable. It broke her heart to see him pretending to be fine when it was very clear that nothing was okay. The pain doubled when the small change in angle removed the shadows from his face almost completely, revealing the nasty bruise that had formed under his left eye.
The charade, as pitiful as it had been, had gone on long enough. She moved in quickly before he could protest, throwing her arms around the miserable and hurting boy that she considered to be her second son. She felt him stiffen in surprise under her sudden embrace. However, it didn't take long for him to relax. His head fell on her shoulder, and she gently carded her hand through his hair. She shushed him gently as he began to cry. "Don't worry, dear," she whispered, feeling his body tremor with his sobs. "You're home."
She waited for him to calm down a bit before leading him inside, waving her wand distractedly behind her to retrieve the trunk that had been behind him. She had questions, but they could wait. Right now, tea needed to be made, beds needed to be made up, and sleep was to be had. For now, she knew that Sirius Black just needed to realize that he was free.
I know that it's a shitty ending, but I quite honestly just want to be done with this story. I haven't really had any interest in it for a while, but it would have bothered me if I didn't give it some sort of ending, so... yeah.