Interlude: Through another's eyes

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warning: this chapter is not the same as the previous lighthearted chapters, and has a more serious tone

He looked down at the still instrument and he pondered.

Tom had always been a massive threat to their world, was always going to cause untold mayhem and anarchy for their society. He was going to be a monumental threat that was going to take years upon years to destroy.

Except he was now supposedly dead and gone.

Albus Dumbledore looked down at the spindly silver that had casually moved and puffed to the rhythm of Tom's life for the past few decades. This small but innocuous ornament had kept him apprised of the state of Britain's biggest threat since Gellert, but a few days ago it suddenly stopped moving and tipped over, laying still and refusing to move anymore.

An emergency session of the Wizengamot had brought to him the knowledge that the worst of Tom's followers were awaiting trials, and the use of Veritaserum had revealed they were truly corrupted by Tom, and his colleagues were also in need of saving if their suggestion to use the Kiss was any indication.

So many souls lost for good that just needed a guiding hand and a second chance, lost to the heavy-handedness of the Ministry. Didn't they realise those arrested were victims just as much as those dead and buried? They just needed a chance to prove they could change.

Except they'd all been Kissed.

Seeing Lord Black there had certainly been a surprise. Arcturus Black usually left the running of things in the Wizengamot to his cousin Pollux, but the younger Black had been sat in the visitors' gallery as the Lord of his family used his sly words to bring everyone else around to his point of view and push for those poor souls to be lost forever.

It was truly sad, Albus mourned. Arcturus Black had been especially adamant that his young niece Bellatrix be Kissed, and he still couldn't understand how someone could be so determined to rid themselves of their own family.

(Albus Dumbledore had always been good at seeing what he wanted, and his past actions towards his own siblings were wrapped tightly in a rose-coloured film.)

That didn't even get into the fact that Tom's body had been recovered and was being held somewhere he didn't have access. He didn't understand the Department of Mysteries; he was Albus Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and the former teacher of Tom himself. Granted, nobody knew that Lord Voldemort was Tom Riddle, but was beside the point. It should be obvious that he didn't want to see the body for any nefarious reason.

Tom was a dangerous and deadly person. There was no way he'd be taken out so easily and without fanfare. Tom was someone who would go down fighting, loud and in a sea of destruction. He had no doubt that Tom had dabbled in some terrible dark magic that had worked to keep him alive. When he'd come to the school to apply for a job he'd looked so ill; he had to have done something to look like that.

Not that the Unspeakables seemed to believe him. They wouldn't let him investigate, and it was annoying to know that nobody seemed to believe him about Tom. Horace might have, but his Potions professor had vanished off the face of the earth and he couldn't find him. He knew that the other man probably knew something, but speculating over nothing wouldn't lead anywhere.

He sighed and looked down at the spindly instrument, picking it up and pulling it up to eye level to examine it. Had the spell he cast been overcome somehow? Had Tom managed to fool it? He couldn't help but imagine his former student going to ground, biding his time and waiting for the right time to cause terror and panic once more.

Their world was celebrating and enjoying what they thought of as freedom – he'd even read in the paper that young Regulus Black was courting a Potter cousin; a nice boy from a light family would only be good for him – but he knew that it was just a trick.

Tom was a true threat to their world and a powerful wizard that would never be taken out in such a mysterious and lacklustre manner. Albus would have to continue studying and researching for when Tom returned.

He looked at the instrument and he pondered.

James lifted the whiskey bottle to take a swig before he realised there were only a few mouthfuls left, so downed the rest and slammed the bottle on the table harder than was probably necessary, but at this point he didn't give a shit.

He wondered when it was that everything had gone so wrong.

His parents dying from bloody Dragon Pox months ago – he didn't care that they were older than usual parents, they were still too young to die – to being in a war straight out of school, life certainly wasn't as fun as he'd expected in school.

Wormtail was a Death Eater.

His friend – was he a friend? – had willingly killed and tortured people, thought that he deserved to be recognised for once, had thought that he, Padfoot and Moony were stuck-up arseholes, had despised them for being popular. He'd called James a privileged arsehole that didn't realise he was a bully.

Was he a bully?

He'd always thought that his pranks were funny and entertaining, then his uncle-slash-cousin Charlus had appeared at just the wrong time and completely torn his certainty apart.

"You hung someone upside down in public and removed their underwear. Don't look at me like that you little shit, I know a hell of a lot more than you think. Think about this: if that had been a girl it would have been sexual assault, but because it was a boy it was funny?

"You're a hypocritical and prejudiced little bastard, and your father's probably rolling in his grave at what his son turned into. Did you know that Fleamont had quite the reputation of ending up in detention for going after people like you. He'd be so disappointed at what you've ended up like.

"Look, just sort out the fucking wards, and we won't have to talk anymore. If I were you though, I'd start actually using that thing called a fucking brain. Considering your oh-so-perfect Gryffindor friend was actually a murdering bastard, clearly the House of lions isn't the epitome of good. Why don't you sit down and think about how the school Houses don't mean jack shit in the real world.

"For Merlin's sake James, grow the fuck up."

Uncle Charlus was a father. Twice over, in fact.

He had a son the same age as James, but he'd never introduced them because he thought – he knew, don't lie James, you would have treated him like shit – that James would have reacted badly because Charlus' mother was a Malfoy Slytherin.

He had an adult son, and his son – Hadrian, his name was Hadrian Potter, they were cousins – was in a courtship with Regulus Black. Sirius' younger brother, the brother that had been a stereotypical Slytherin, a proper little Black, an associate of the Death Eaters, the one most likely to sign up to join the crazy Dark Lord.

The one who didn't have a Dark Mark.

James closed his eyes and tilted his head back. How much had he assumed based off of initial assumptions? He wasn't stupid by any stretch of the imagination, so what had happened? When did he start to equate all Slytherins to evil?

Snivellous.

Sni- Snape – that was part of the problem, wasn't it? He clung to childish rivalries with such fervour – had been close to Lily, and he'd seen him as the obstacle to the girl he wanted. Fucking hell, he'd cast them all in stupidly childish roles in some bloody fairy-tale; Lily was the princess he had to win, Snape was the evil dragon in the way, and James was the hero that had to win the girl.

Fuck, he was an idiot.

He'd ran with the idea that Snape was evil, that just because some of the Slytherins were horrible – not all of them, Andromeda Black married a muggle-born, for Merlin's sake – and cast them all as the bad guys.

James thought about all the pranks he'd ever pulled and felt his heart sink. He might be married to Lily now, but he could clearly remember her looks of fury and disgust at his antics. He'd arrogantly thought that she just didn't want to admit to finding it funny, but she'd been truly disgusted with him, hadn't she?

Why were they married?

He thought about that time with Snape and his underwear, and he thought about that happening to a child of his, his son or daughter hanging there helpless as someone laughed and jeered and casually spelled off their underwear to reveal –

A smash echoed around the room, and he stood there breathing hard, staring at the remnants of the whiskey bottle glinting in the empty fireplace. The room was silent for the blood pounding in his ears, and he clenched his eyes shut.

He was a horrible person.

"James?"

Turning around, he saw his beautiful wife looking around the room warily, and he felt a pang in his heart as he realised how monumentally lucky he was that the woman in front of him had deigned to choose him after all the crap he'd pulled in school.

"Lils."

She looked just as out of sorts as he felt, torn up at the revelation that Peter would have gladly betrayed them for power. Though for her, so many Death Eaters implicating Snape had also hurt her beyond what he could understand.

Not that he seemed to be cut out for empathy, anyway.

He strode across the room and pulled her into his arms, leaning down to bury his nose in auburn hair, holding onto her in an attempt to ground himself. Uncle Charlus was right, he really was a hypocrite. He couldn't see Charlus or Hadrian or anyone until he worked through his problems, and he knew it would take a while. He was pretty fucked up.

James pulled back before proceeding to kiss his wife senseless, gradually pushing her over to the sofa in the corner.

But for now, he'd be selfish a little while longer.

His arm was bare.

He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling, very much aware of the body next to him, the body that was also struggling with sleep after certain revelations. Having one of your best friends turn out to be one of the vile bastards you signed up to hunt down and send to prison was horrifying, and Sirius was desperately combing through his memories, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that things went wrong.

His arm was bare.

He clenched his eyes shut before sighing quietly, swinging his legs out the bed and getting up, walking slowly through the flat towards the kitchen. He wasn't even sure why he was being quiet, he and Remus both knew the other was awake and in turmoil, but they were clinging to the silence like a shield.

If they spoke about it, it would become real.

Sirius sipped his glass of water before ambling over to the window, fumbling through the pot to the side before withdrawing his cigarettes. He'd said he'd quit, but he didn't really care right now.

One of his best friends was a fucking Death Eater, his insane grandfather had miraculously come out of self-imposed exile in France to get rid of the Death Eaters – the bastard had even disowned Bella in the courtroom in front of everyone before she was Kissed – and his brother was shacking up with the mystery cousin of Prongs.

His brother wasn't a Death Eater.

How many times, how many fucking times had Reggie asked for help? Begged, pleaded, offered anything for help, and Sirius had fucked him over.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He knew that Slytherins weren't all evil; Andi was fucking awesome, Uncle Alphard was hilarious to be around, and Aunt Cedrella had set fire to his great-grandfather Sirius' office before she eloped.

Why had he been so adamant in ignoring the truth?

Because you wanted to prove her wrong.

He'd been such a little shit, all to prove Walburga Black wrong, and now things were awful, and all he could think about was the betrayed look on his baby brother's face that summer he left. Those eyes had condemned him, begged him to take Reggie with him, asked him what his brother had done wrong.

And Sirius had left him behind.

Sirius had thought that the incident with Moony and Snape had been the worst he could ever feel, but the feeling of guilt sat in his chest right now was infinitely worse. He might love Remus, might adore him and want to be with him forever, but Reggie was the little brother that had followed him around and tried to emulate him as much as possible, had tried to be everything that Sirius had wanted.

The brother that he'd betrayed with nary a thought.

He breathed out smoke and threw the cigarette butt into the rain outside, watching it dampen until the orange embers glowed for the last time before turning around. Making his way back to the bedroom he mused over how much he'd fucked up his brother's life. Regulus deserved to be happy without Sirius fucking things up for once, so he'd stay away and leave the happy couple be.

They deserved it.

Sirius walked into their bedroom and gazed at the moonlit figure lying on his back, green eyes on the ceiling and his thoughts probably racing. Moony always did have a tendency to get lost in his head. He strode over to the bed and climbed on, crawling over to Remus and straddling him as he fastened their lips together chastely.

After a few seconds he pulled back and met Remus' eyes. "Make me forget."

He didn't receive a verbal reply, but a few seconds later he was on his back and covered by 6'2'' of hot werewolf, so he gave in and let go.

He looked at the collection of firewhiskey bottles that he'd managed to amass over a couple of days, and mused that destroying his liver after just being cured of a poison probably wasn't the smartest decision he'd ever made.

Though frankly, Orion was all out of fucks to give at the moment.

That disgusting, vile bitch of a cousin of his – he couldn't say her name out loud, couldn't even bear to think it – had ruined everything. Not only did the shrew fuck up his life, she'd tortured the children that she made him sire, and as he sifted through his memories of the past two decades he got more and more pissed off that he couldn't kill her all over again.

The problem with the potion he'd been poisoned with was that he hadn't been unaware of his life happening. He'd known everything, but he hadn't been in control. Having someone else control every single aspect of his life had been galling, infuriating, and heart-breaking when he considered his children.

Sirius was a Black as much as any other, no matter what the bitch had said. Yes, he was hot-headed and stubborn, but no more so than the hag that had birthed him. Many of their family had horrid tempers that lent themselves to explosive outbursts, but they'd all been taught to handle it and how to keep calm.

His sons hadn't had that chance.

Sirius had been all but abandoned after being Sorted into Gryffindor – but not entirely, because that would mean no torture, and of course the bitch couldn't abide by that – and Regulus had been thrust into a position of 'your brother is an utter failure, and even though you love him you're going to become everything he isn't, because this family needs a proper Black more than loving siblings'.

Merlin, things were so fucked up.

His oldest thought that Orion hated him just as much as she did, and getting him to come around would be such a pain in the arse considering how stubborn he was. Regulus was apparently forgoing any sense of propriety and had initiated a courtship with someone after mere days, though his father told him that he was acting of his own volition.

Both his sons were in relationships – and Sirius really needed to understand the meaning of 'discretion' in the middle of a war – and he was now widowed and single once more. Granted, he was only single because he'd killed the bitch, but the fact remained that he was free to do as he wished once more.

Well, after the mourning period anyway. A year of acting as if he was respecting his late wife would be enough before he could move on with his life. He could even remarry and have more children if he so wished.

He just hoped that his former lover accepted him back.

Orion had been interested in a young woman just before the debacle with his insane cousin, though he had been waiting for her to graduate from Hogwarts before arranging anything officially. They'd verbally confessed feelings for one another, but considering Orion was eleven years older than the woman in question, it was decided that after graduation they would arrange things with their families.

Of course, the crazy bitch ruined things by poisoning him and controlling his life for over twenty years, and there was every chance the woman he'd been planning on marrying would want nothing to do with him.

The man sighed and stood up, drinking a sobriety potion left by a helpful elf a few hours ago as he did, before heading over to the fireplace.

Just because Blacks were Slytherins, didn't mean they couldn't be brave and face their problems head on.

A/N: Hey guys!

Like I said at the top, this chapter was more serious than the others. I really wanted to get into the minds of a few other characters in this fic, specifically the ones unrelated to what's been happening. People that still don't really have a clue how these things have happened, and how that's affected them.

But remember, double update today! To make up for a serious chapter, there is another lighthearted one after this. The next chapter is essentially the final one of them getting together, but next week there will be an epilogue which at the moment doesn't really have a coherent story and is mostly just Harry and Regulus messing about. Though considering this fic began from me messing around, that might be the best tone lol.

So this story finishes next week. There will be a slice of life sequel at some point, and I can guarantee that won't have a proper story, mostly just bits and pieces of their lives together.

Anyway, check out the next chapter, and I'll see you soon!