AN: I LIIIIVE! Alrighty guys we're getting this back on track, but also I'm going straight back to school so I won't be updating super frequently- I'm shooting for once a month, more if I'm feeling particularly creative.

Number twelve Grimmauld place was probably the worst place in the world, Sirius was sure, especially during the summer.

Well, during the school year too, but he wasn't there during the school year anymore, so it didn't really matter what was terrible and what wasn't.

There were very few things in the latter category.

CRACK!

Sirius yelped, tumbling off of his bed, and then snarled at the chuckling house elf who had just appeared in his room.

"Master Sirius," Kreacher snarled, a mean smile pulling his lips, "you're wanted downstairs."

"Go shut your ears in a door!" Sirius shouted, winging an unenchanted bludger (the closest thing he could reach) at Kreacher, who disappeared with a wicked smile and another loud CRACK. "Bloody elf…" the Gryffindor muttered darkly, pulling himself to his feet and stomping pointedly towards the door of his bedroom. His parents would be able to hear. Every. Step.

Not that they would really care that he was angry, but it made him feel better anyway.

"What'd you do this time?" Regulus asked when Sirius' brother flung open his door, leaning out of his own room with a judgemental stare.

"Probably the right thing if they're angry at me," Sirius snapped, sending a poisonous glare at his younger brother before turning and marching down the stairs. He didn't notice the slight regret that colored Regulus' face as he turned away, nor did Regulus see the way Sirius faltered and almost glanced back a few steps later; he had already closed the door.

Regulus sat at his desk, quill clutched in his hand. He had been writing a letter, before, but then the screaming started.

His mother was always screaming. At least when she talked to Sirius. He'd tried to keep writing, to ignore his older brother being reamed out for what was honestly probably a minor offense, but without noticing he'd stopped, and was now staring blankly down at his piece of paper.

He couldn't hear what she was yelling about this time. It could really be anything from Sirius being in Gryffindor to the friends he'd made there, to the fact that his hair was too long, or even about how he'd stomped down the stairs a few minutes earlier.

Mom never yelled at him like that. Even before Sirius had been sorted, he'd been "the bad child" and Regulus was the "good" one. Would it still be the same, he wondered, if Sirius had been sorted into Slytherin and him into Gryffindor… like the hat had wanted?

Would that be him down there while Sirius silently judged and ridiculed him for his mistakes?

A soft knock came from his door, and Regulus realized that, sometime between stopping writing and now he had begun to cry.

"What is it?" He called roughly, scrubbing his sleeve across his eyes. Mom was still yelling downstairs, but he couldn't let dad see him cry either.

"May Kreacher come in, Master Regulus?" Kreacher, the family house elf, asked politely from outside. Regulus stopped trying to cover up his tears so vigorously. Kreacher was his friend, and if he asked him not to tell anyone then no one would ever find out he'd been crying, even mom.

"Yeah, of course," Regulus replied, still wiping the tears as his bedroom door creaked open.

"What is wrong, Master Regulus?" Kreacher asked, rushing forward to his master's side, as soon as he opened the door.

"I've told you, you can call me Regulus, Kreacher," Regulus replied, a little bit longsufferingly. He had been telling Kreacher that since he was nine years old. He knew, of course, that if he ordered Kreacher to, he would, but he didn't want to order him. Regulus wanted Kreacher to call him by his name of his own accord.

Kreacher pressed his lips together, like he always did when Regulus offered that. It would make Master Regulus happy, he knew, to simply be called Regulus, and Kreacher's one purpose in life was to make his Masters and Mistresses happy. But, it was a gross breach of protocol, and the impropriety would make his poor mistress terribly angry.

Mistress didn't need anything more to be angry about. Not with the blood-traitor he was forced to call Master lurking around and staining the name of Black.

"What is wrong, Master Regulus?" He asked again, and pretended not to see how his young master sighed in disappointment. He would think about that when he shut his ears in a door later.

"Nothing, Kreacher… Just…" Regulus turned back to the letter he had been writing, the only words on the parchment being Dear Serena. Taking the letter in his hands, crumpling it like the last four, and throwing it in the trash he finished, "absolutely nothing."

"Hey, Mum? Dad?" James Potter called on August fifth, walking through the large house. He was pretty sure they would be in the sitting room, which is where he was headed.

"Yes James?" Euphemia, his mother, called from the room he was just about to enter.

"You know how Peter and Remus are coming over?" He asked with his usual cheeky grin. His father, Fleamont Potter, raised an eyebrow, but both adults nodded. "Could I have another friend over?"

"Would that be Sirius Black?" Fleamont asked, turning a page of his newspaper. Euphemia and Fleamont hadn't met Sirius yet, but they had heard glowing praise from James about him. Remus and Peter had both come over last summer for a few days each (although Remus' father refused to let him stay overnight, which James supposed kind of made sense now, but he was never over near the full moon anyways), but Sirius hadn't been able to. He had been put on hardcore lockdown by his parents last summer; they'd put Kreacher in charge of keeping him in the house and hidden away the floo powder and broomsticks.

This year they'd done the same thing, but Sirius was sure that if he just had a way out then he could get past Kreacher with no problem.

So, in his last letter, James had thoughtfully sent a small container of floo powder.

That had been a few days ago. It had occurred to him, just a minute ago, that perhaps he should tell his parents that he'd given Sirius Black permission to pop over to his house at any time he could get out, including but not limited to: weekdays, weekends, morning, afternoon, midnight, and 3:00 am.

"And when should we expect him, dear? Tomorrow, like your other friends?" Euphemia asked before James had even replied, not looking up from her cross-stitching.

"Well, you see I'm not sure when he'll be availa-"

Just then, the fireplace flared up to around five feet tall, turning from it's soft orange color to an emerald green, and a long-haired boy about James' age spun into existence in the middle of it.

"You must be Sirius Black," Fleamont said without lifting his eyes from the Daily Prophet article he was reading.

"Fleamont," Euphemia chided as the boy stepped out of the fire, "give him a proper welcome." She then turned to the boy and did just that- with a hug that could crush men's bones to dust.

Sirius stood motionless, eyes as wide a saucers, during the contact.

He had never been hugged like this before… the only person who had ever hugged him, actually, was Regulus… and that had stopped years ago. Maybe he could count Peter and James and Remus, but they didn't hug (guys don't hug after all, not in Sirius' world), they tackled and noogied and stuff. Before he registered what the appropriate response would be and that he did, in fact, want to hug back, Euphemia had let go.

"I'm James' mum, it's a pleasure to meet you!" She chortled, thinking the utterly confused look on her son's friend's face was utterly adorable.

"Mum, I think you broke him," James sniggered when the usually slick-talking Sirius Black responded by blinking, mouth agape.

That seemed to finally snap the boy back to his senses, and he gave Mrs. Potter his most charming smile.

"Mrs. Potter? It can't be, you don't look a day over twenty-five!" He smiled, looking entirely sincere. Euphemia Potter, who was many days over twenty-five, looked it, and knew it, thought this was just precious. "And you must be James' older brother. I wasn't aware he had one," Sirius added, turning to Fleamont (who clearly looked to be at least in his fifties) and somehow managing to keep a straight face while he held out his hand in greeting.

Fleamont rolled his eyes spectacularly, dropping his paper and standing all the while ignoring Sirius' proffered hand.

"You should know one thing about this house, boy," he began to lecture, and Sirius' smile began to falter. "And that is that we don't handshake. Only hug!" And then, with an impish smile that Sirius had no doubt James had inherited to the last detail, he too pulled Sirius into a quick hug.

This time, when he was let go, Sirius was absolutely beaming. He could definitely get used to this. James smiled too, and noted that Sirius needed more hugs in his life (in James' world, anyone could hug, even guys).

"Ugh," James groaned overdramatically, but grinned at his parents happily when he said, "you're both so embarrassing. Come on, Sirius, dinner's not til' five, I'll give you a tour!"

A few hours later, there was a loud crash.

Sirius stared at the vase in horror.

He hadn't meant to do it… he'd been running through the halls after James, and he just hadn't been paying attention!

"Don't worry," James had said a moment ago, "I'll get mum, she'll fix it." And then he'd run off.

And Sirius was left standing there, breath beginning to come in short gasps.

If he was at his house, he wouldn't react like this. Even when Walburga screamed at his clumsiness and Orion called him a disgrace, even though against their insults he would want to fall to the floor and cover his ears and wait for it all to end, he would stand tall and give his best cavalier grin, and simply mutter "oops". Because, with them, he didn't care anymore. Their opinions of him would never change, he was doomed to be a hated child forever, and falling to his knees and begging forgiveness would only give them what they wanted.

But this was different.

He wasn't at his house, and these people weren't his parents. They were James's parents, his best mate, and he wanted them to like him, he wanted them to let him come back, he wanted them to hug him again, because even though he'd only been there for a few hours this had honestly been the best day he'd ever had outside of Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately when the elderly woman walked into the room. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Don't worry Sirius," Euphemia said kindly. She pulled out her wand (Sirius flinched- Euphemia didn't notice, but James did) and waved it at the shattered pieces while muttering, "reparo."

"I'm sorry," Sirius repeated, and was he a tad bit paler than usual? With his darker skin tone, it had always been hard to tell.

"It's fine, Sirius," she waved off easily, picking up the repaired vase, "see, all fixed."

"You… You're not mad?" Sirius asked, and James thought he saw his hands shaking. "I really am sorry."

"It was an accident, and easy to fix," Euphemia smiled patiently, although her eyes were now scanning over Sirius contemplatively. He opened his mouth again, perhaps to apologize once more, but she cut him off. "You have nothing to apologize for. Now, come to dinner you two. Sirius, James told me your favorite is Shepherd's Pie and Butterbeer, so that's what we're having. Eat as much as you want, dear!"

"James," Sirius whispered to his friend, looking thoughtful, "how long can I stay here?"

"How long do you want to?" James grinned back. He would never kick Sirius back to Grimmauld place, and he knew his parents wouldn't either. A grin split Sirius' face to match.

"Until my mum and dad drag me back."

Remus arrived first the next day, and was greeted in a similar fashion but he, unlike Sirius, responded to the hugs.

"Sirius, I didn't know you were going to be here," he greeted, pleasantly surprised.

"Neither did we," Fleamont said, completely deadpan, from the adjacent room.

When Peter arrived with his mother an hour later he was also greeted with hugs and the four boys headed out to the quidditch pitch (Remus and Peter, although they had been there before, were still a bit incredulous that James' parents had made him an entire life-sized quidditch pitch for his tenth birthday) to play some half-court two-on-two.

AN: So how do yall like James' parents? Nice little Sirius feels in here, Serena shows up in the next chapter, then we're off to third year!

ALSO- if yall like my writing I am starting to publish an original story on wattpad called "The Wrong Genre" so feel free to check it out, my username is BonesDontMelt as usual (Sorry, got some shameless advertising in there, I won't do it again, promise)

Love you all, thank you for waiting for me!