Hello, this chapter is a little bit longer than my others. I couldn't find a place to cut it without breaking the flow of the story. Any feedback or comments would be lovely. hope you enjoy. BlackReaver, xox


Brother, hail and farewell.

The following week passed in a sickening blur. Merely two hours after Dumbledore left Alastor Moody had arrived to take Sirius in for questioning. It had taken him twenty-seven hours to convince Moody that he was telling the truth, of which five were spent explaining how he had come to be an illegal animagus. That had been rather tedious, apparently it was just that hard to believe three fifth year boys could actually manage it.

Sirius honestly didn't know why.

After all, they had managed to map more of Hogwarts than the original architects of the school had. And they had also managed to receive more detentions than any other students had in its thousand or so year history.

Though that may have been because the punishments became slightly more lax when Dumbledore became Headmaster. Sirius couldn't really imagine breaking the rules so often or with such reckless abandon if the punishment for transfiguring Snivellus' school robes (into an outfit he had seen one mother wear on September 1st at the train station; a stuffed vulture hat, stiff green robes and pink high-heeled shoes) had involved being hung upside-down in the dungeons by his toes.

Merely having to clean the bedpans of the hospital wing for an entire month was just dandy after seeing Snape in drag.

Ah, those were the good old days.

When everyone was not dead.

When Pete wasn't actually a rat.

Moody had not been impressed when he shared this with him.

Fair enough.

Sirius didn't think Moody had ever laughed in his entire laugh. He decided it might be better to wait to share his reminiscing about Hogwarts with Frank Longbottom. That bloke would get a kick out of it. Frank was only a couple of years older than Sirius and they got along rather well. Alice, his wife and fellow Auror, was ace too, but she was yet to return to work after having her baby, Neville.

He wondered whether the Longbottom's would be celebrating or mourning. They were in the Order too. They had been really great friend's to the Potter's. They had feared for the life of their child as James and Lily had done for theirs.

Their fear had united them.

Parents. Fighting for the freedom and life of their child.

All Sirius' mother had ever fought for was to make him a pureblooded monster. He wondered if she had ever loved him. Probably not. Lily would never scream and rage and hex if Harry accidentally tripped up the stairs and dirtied his clothes. Or had a nightmare.

No, she certainly wouldn't.

Not even if she wanted to.

She was dead.

Sirius kept forgetting that.

Forgetting that he would never get to laugh at James when he had baby vomit or piss running down the front of his shirt. That was going to be his shirt from now on. Harry was his responsibility.

He wanted to go back to the Lupin's. He was worried about how Remus was coping with an exceedingly clingy Harry, with a still distraught mother and with arranging the funeral. It made him nervous.

Eventually Moody let him go.

After being informed that was suspended for a month for being an unregistered animagus, Sirius was unceremoniously thrown out into the Auror department to be met with the nosy faces of his co-workers. It was rather humiliating. Especially when Dawlish started to bark at him. Stupid wanker. Had he not known Moody would be watching he would have turned into Padfoot and given Dawlish a proper bark. With teeth. And some biting. Possibly blood. Merlin knows he had wanted to see that arrogant bastard bleed.

He left quickly.

By the time Sirius had returned to the Lupin's, he had fallen into an undeniably miserable funk. He had been up for thirty-nine hours straight and was about to lose it completely. To remedy this, he locked himself in the bloodied basement and sobbed like a child for a good hour.

He had never felt so alone and lost.

So overwhelmed by grief and terrified of the numbness that had settled in his chest as he recounted his discovery of James and Lily's bodies. It made him think of the Dementors he had seen only once, on a visit to Azkaban. They had sucked out all of the happiness in the air and left Sirius feeling numb and tormented at the same time. It had been awful.

Mrs Lupin had found him and helped him calm down. She had held him tightly and told him that it wouldn't just get better, but he would learn to cope. He would find reasons to feel again.

She left him briefly to get a scrapbook from her bedroom. When she returned she sat down next to him and opened to book. It was filled with pictures of a young and lovely Mrs Lupin, her proud looking husband and a little girl with Mr Lupin's eyes and Moony's smile. She had blonde hair, bouncy and curly and not at all like Remus'. Sirius looked to Mrs Lupin and watched as she gazed down lovingly at the little girl in the muggle photographs. Her little girl.

"I miss her everyday, Sirius," she began quietly, "and I will never forget about her. She was only five when she passed. I had only just found out I was carrying another child."

"Moony?"

Mrs Lupin chuckled, "Yes. I was carrying Moony. Evangeline was so excited that she was going to be a big sister. She talked about the baby incessantly, if it was a girl she wanted it to be named Artemis and if it was a boy, Remus. John had been reading her his Mythology books, you see. But she had developed a cough and it didn't get any better. She got very sick very quickly. She died when I was four months along with Remus."

"I'm sorry," Sirius told her, still mesmerised by the little girl who had never met her little brother, though he shared her smile. He was struck by the fact that she had named her brother, yet not been privileged enough to meet him. How unfair that Remus had been denied such a companion in his lonely childhood.

"I didn't tell you to that you feel bad for me, I told you to let you know you are not alone."

Sirius had no idea how much he needed to hear that until he actually did. That seemed to happen to him a lot.

"Thank you."

"You're most welcome. Now why don't you go upstairs and have a rest, Remus and Harry are out in the garden," Mrs Lupin said to him, helping him up and guiding him out of the room. He was grateful for her kindness towards him still, despite everything. She really was awesome.

Sirius had laid down on Remus' bed and been surprised to note the gentle tone of Remus' voice wafting through the open window, as he read a muggle novel to Harry.

Sirius also noted, that it was The Hobbit, one of Sirius' favourite books. His uncle Alphard had given it to him the Christmas of his first year at Hogwarts. He hadn't really cared about it until he got back to school and mentioned he got a book to Remus, knowing enough about his mysterious new friend to know he was a bit bookish. Remus had light up and started to jabber on excitedly about his favourite parts of the book and Sirius had to stop him after several minutes to admit he hadn't read it yet.

Remus' face had fallen and he had muttered an embarrassed, "Oh. Sorry. I-I got a bit carried away." It made Sirius feel kind of bad so he resolved to read it so Remus could talk about it again.

What were friends for?

As it turned out, he became rather obsessed with it and read the entire thing inside a week and nearly had kitten's when Remus told him there was more books after it. He had also forced James to read them too, so naturally Peter did as well, and they had spent many a night in their school years performing sections of the The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings in the dormitory, in the common room and that one memorable time in the Great Hall to celebrate Snape's seventeenth birthday (he had been cast as Gollum by James).

Good choice, Moony.

He approved. Harry would grow up and know all about hobbits and friendship and the dragon Smaug. Harry would learn to love the magic the muggles had created for themselves. Those muggles knew more than most wizards gave them credit for. They really did.

For at least and hour Sirius listened to Remus read to his godson. However, Sirius was unaware that Harry had fallen asleep in the crook of Remus arm long before Remus stopped reading, as was he unaware that Remus had been sitting directly beneath the window sill, hidden by the planter box, so that Sirius could hear him clearly.

Sirius also had no idea Remus had picked that book for a reason.

Picked it for Sirius.

All of these things evaded him as he drifted off into a short but mercifully dreamless sleep.

Then came the Potter's funeral.

It was one of the hardest days of Sirius' life. Certainly the saddest. The shock and disbelief had vanished overnight and were replaced by unimaginable sadness. Grief. Sirius had scarce got a minutes sleep since Halloween, excepting the few hours in which Remus read to him (unbeknownst to Sirius of course). Wracked with guilt and nightmares, it was easier to stay awake. To watch Harry sleep, watch as his tiny chest rose and fell with every breath. He had spent most of his nights that way, usually accompanied by Remus, sometimes a chess set and some strong whiskey, sometimes Mrs Lupin, too.

It seemed all to surreal to stand only a few metre's away from James and Lily, ethereal looking and dead in their coffins.

He and Remus had been placed right at the front, standing right next to the Minister of Magic.

The pompous idiot.

Sirius could see how uncomfortable the man had been standing so close to Remus, dressed in borrowed robes of Sirius' that were slightly too big for his emaciated form, Harry asleep in his arms. The bastard acted as though Remus was nothing more than an abomination and Sirius knew Remus saw it. He had cringed when Remus had held out his hand when he greeted the Minister and Sirius watched as the man had wiped his hand on his attendant's robes after he shook Remus' proffered one. It make Sirius so angry. That the Minister of Magic was as prejudiced a moron as his family had been. That anyone would treat Remus like that.

But that wasn't was hurt the most.

The worst part was looking on as Remus fussed over Harry. He was dressed in a pale blue baby suit and jumper (Remus had blatantly refused when Sirius had suggested they buy him proper black robes for the occasion, he had said, "it isn't right for a child so young to mourn, Padfoot.") and wrapped up snuggly in a god-awful woollen blanket that Lily had painstakingly knitted herself. It was cream, with dropped stitches and lose threads and small holes all over the bloody thing. It had been the butt of many of James and Sirius' jokes, but it hadn't deterred the stubborn girl. Though when she finally finished it, even after several lengthy consultations with Mrs Lupin, she had laughed, admitted it was a total disaster and had tossed it aside. So naturally, it was one of the only personal possessions that survived that fateful Halloween night.

Sirius was so tempted to chuck the thing out when he pulled it out of the single cardboard box of salvaged items from the Potter's home because it reminded him of the fact that he was a total bastard.

But Lily had made it.

Lily had awkwardly looped the wool around the knitting needles, listening intently as Remus read a little too patiently from a do-it-yourself knitting book (he had literally drawn the short straw) and poked herself in the eye on multiple occasions and chased her hideous boot-faced cat around the lounge room to get the by-now knobbly wool back at least twice a day until she had made something for her precious baby.

For Harry.

It was one of only a handful of possessions he could ever have in connection to his mother, so even though everything about burying the Potter's felt wrong, Sirius felt it was right that Harry should be in Remus' arms, being kept warm by the blanket his mummy made for him.

The aged wizard conducting the funeral spoke for a long while. A long, long while. Sirius had no idea what he was saying.

He didn't care.

In less than an hour he would never see James or Lily in the flesh ever again. They were going to be buried.

It was...weird.

So ridiculously surreal, almost like the time he and James had snuck out of the Potter's home during the summer before their seventh year and managed to obtain some sort of muggle drug, he couldn't exactly remember, and Sirius had sworn he had seen a rabbit in a tutu riding a thestral in the Potter's back garden.

But this was weirder, because this was real.

They were really gone and it was snowing.

It looked beautiful.

Sirius heard his own name spoken.

It was time for him to speak the eulogy. Dumbledore had offered to do so, but that didn't sit right with Sirius. He knew them best. He'd called James his brother. They were his family. He had to do it.

He looked to his left, where the Minister stood, looking serious and bored at the same time. Sirius was sure he had been to too many of these to count. Then he glanced over his shoulder, to see a sea of black dress robes, pointed witches hats and teary faces. Then lastly, he looked to his right. To Remus and Harry. Harry was asleep still, and Sirius was glad, the little tyke had been struggling to settle at nights and as a result was a very grumbly little fellow during the day. Even Padfoot hadn't cheered him up this morning (not that it had made Sirius change back any sooner, it was easy to escape into the dog, hide from reality for a while). Remus had been virtually mute the entire morning.

Sirius understood. Stoicism and Remus went together like English and tea. Remus was trying to be the strong one. For his mother. For the baby in his arms. For Sirius. Even and perhaps most especially, for himself. But it made Sirius nervous. Remus had refused to talk about anything remotely personal the past few days. Their conversations had revolved around Harry, whose turn it was to change Harry and if Sirius would like some more tea. He knew Remus trusted him. He did. But sometimes it felt like he didn't. It hurt. Sometimes.

Remus looked at him seriously and mouthed a "Good luck."

Sirius nodded and before he had anytime to stop himself, leaned in towards Remus and kissed him on the cheek. Sirius was so horrified at himself he didn't notice the pink tinge of Remus' cheeks.

Bloody hell Black! What did you do that for? It's Moony, not some stupid bird. Honestly.

"Thanks mate," he muttered before walking out in front of what seemed to be the entire wizarding population of Britain and told them about the first time he had ever been on the receiving end of one of Lily Potter's hexes. That earned a chorus of slightly subdued laughter and genuine smile from Remus. The first he had seen in well over four months. The rest of his speech was bearable, knowing that the broken friendship between he and Remus could be healed, that maybe they had a chance at looking after the kid that had been thrown upon them. Not that Sirius didn't want Harry.

He did. He loved that little boy like his own child.

But he had expected to be the cool uncle, not the parent.

That was Lily and James.

Always them.

But they were gone now. They had left the mortal world having never even heard their son call them mum or dad. Harry was not talking yet. He was a late bloomer, according to Mrs Lupin. It would be Sirius who would teach Harry how to talk, how to walk, how to tie his shoe laces. He would be the one who would take Harry to his first Quidditch match, he would be the one who would beam proudly as his godson opened his Hogwarts letter. When Harry had a nightmare or scraped his knee, it would be his responsibility. It terrified him.

But then as he was walking back from the podium, after having farewelled his brother and the most incredible witch he had ever known, he realised that Remus was still standing there, holding his godson. He wasn't alone. No matter what, Remus was as utterly devoted to Harry as Sirius was. And maybe to their friendship too.

Sirius hardly noticed as the crowd waited expectantly for Sirius to place the first flower over the newest gravestones. Instead he focused on how Remus gently roused a dozy Harry and placed in his tiny hand a flower. A lily. Bright green eyes danced as they watched snow falling from the sky and on to the flower in his hand. Remus had looked up at Sirius and nodded.

They had discussed this.

Remus wordlessly handed Harry over to Sirius and watched on as Sirius took his godson over to his parents and helped Harry to place the single flower in front of the graves. Kneeling in the snow, Sirius was vaguely aware of the photograph flashes and the sniffling behind him, but he didn't really care. He wanted to pay his respects and leave. To go mourn properly in peace.

"Wave bye-bye, Harry," Sirius murmured into his godson's ear.

Harry's little mittened hand rose up and waved a little at the gleaming white stone. Harry looked up at Sirius expectantly, as if he was waiting for praise for his heartbreaking little wave.

"Well done, Harry. You're such a good boy."

It came from Remus, who planted a kiss on top of the baby's head, laid his own flower in front of the grave and walked off deeper into the graveyard. Sirius resisted the urge to follow. He knew Remus needed time to process things alone. That he would be back long before Sirius would be allowed to escape. Moving away from the graves to allow other mourners to pay their respects, Sirius was approached by a multitude of mourners. Old school friends. Quite a few birds who had somehow convinced themselves they were in love with him when they were at school. People from the Ministry. People from the Order. The Longbottom's; Alice and Frank and Neville and Augusta.

Merlin! She was wearing vulture stuffed hat. Thank Merlin he hadn't told Frank about that prank. If Sirius knew one thing, it was that Frank loved his mum. Even though she wore a dead vulture on top of her head. Merlin. That was something. It had teeth! Did vultures even have teeth?

Behind the vulture hat Sirius spied Mrs Lupin talking with Molly Prewett. No, she had married, ages ago, she was Molly Weasley now. She was some sort of distant cousin, six times removed or something. Attached to Molly were two boys, no older than three years old, both with flaming red hair and mischievous smirks. They reminded him of Fabian and Gideon.

Molly's brothers. They had been Order members. They were dead.

It struck Sirius how high the mortality rate of the Order actually was. He hadn't noticed before now. Idiot. They had lost so many people. Good people. Friends. Family.

Were their deaths justified now that they had won?

Did it matter?

Remus turned up at his side at that moment, and Sirius was glad of the distraction.

"You did really well up there Sirius. I don't think there was a dry eye in the crowd. They would have been proud," Remus said to him, gently nudging him in the ribs.

"Yeah, well." Sirius shrugged, embarrassed.

"I think we ought to go find mum, take her home and head back to yours, yeah?"

It sounded like a really brilliant idea.

Really truly brilliant. Especially since Sirius had Firewhiskey back at his flat.

"Only if you stay the night."

Remus smirked. "I think I can manage that."

Sirius couldn't help but laugh.