"Let me watch you smile so I can feel the best form of love."
-via Parth
A/N: A little throwback to Don't Ask Me When, but Ask Me Why .
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Brewed Awakening Café, February 1980
"Send it back," Sirius demanded.
Remus stirred his coffee miserably, hoping that the few sugar cubes offered would be enough to sweeten it to his liking. It was to no avail; upon lifting the cup to his mouth and taking a hesitant sip, he found the black, dark roast coffee was just as bitter and dry as expected. He coughed, masking his disgust with a plain, strained smile.
"I'm not sending it back, Sirius," Remus said. "It's quite alright."
"You hate black coffee," Sirius deadpanned, tossing a packet of powdered creamer his way. "Don't even try to deny it."
"I'm not pretending," Remus said, defending his morning brew as best he could against Sirius' narrowed eyes. "I just don't want to bother the waiter, is all."
"He's not there to look cute," James pointed out.
"Well," Lily began, turning her head just far enough to catch a glimpse of their waiter behind the counter.
"Hey," James cried. "You're supposed to look at me like that!"
Remus couldn't help but stare as well; the waiter hardly looked human. Short in stature but with broad shoulders, Lucas (that had been his name) was quite the looker if Remus allowed himself the pleasure. His hair was dark red, much richer than Lily's near strawberry blonde. His eyes caught Remus' attention; their deep, intense shade of blue was inhuman. But he only looked for a moment!
"Don't be a baby," Lily teased, leaning into James' arms. "You're the cutest pea in our little pod."
Sirius scoffed into his menu, sipping his tea gingerly as he said, "I'd like to argue against that. I am clearly the most attractive out of you lot."
"Yeah?" James laughed. "There was once a time you thought Moony here was –"
Remus couldn't ignore the swift elbow to the ribs Lily administered to her husband, poker face just as proud and confident that not a single thing was out of place. James, winded, coughed and winced like a child who'd fallen off their bike.
Remus could feel Sirius' eyes on him, peeking over the top of his menu with interest and, perhaps, a shard of optimism. It set his insides on fire, scorching his lungs and throat like pine needles. James wasn't the only one who'd felt winded that morning; Remus hated when Sirius stared like that. It reminded him of better days – days he'd never get back. The best thing to do would be to smile and avoid the subject despite James' best efforts to bring it up. It'd worked thus far.
"I'd argue for my case," Remus merely shrugged, hoping the subtle indifference would divert the attention from the rather tricky situation he always found himself in when Sirius was involved. "My dazzling golden eyes and striking jawline would wager against Sirius."
"Oh, sod off," Sirius groaned, closing the menu and lounging as he did best. "Everyone knows that good looks run in my family."
"Yes, dear," Lily cooed, patting Sirius' leg, "but they lack the charm of Lupin's."
Remus chuckled; it'd been months since they were like this – calm and informal. They'd only gotten together recently for weddings and funerals, and while one was a rather delightful occasion, something always seemed to taint the mood.
A certain someone, actually, tainted the mood.
"Do you suppose we ought to order without Peter," James asked, checking his watch for the umpteenth time. "He told me he'd be on time."
Remus felt his stare avert to Sirius, gauging his reaction. While he truly was charming and nonchalant, he had a difficult time disguising his distaste for certain members of the Order. Especially those who'd been acting as a double agent for nearly two years. Especially one who'd nearly killed him.
Just as expected, Sirius' carefree expression darkened a great deal, his eyebrows lowering and jaw ticking in irritation. One might assume this was Sirius' typical attitude when Peter was involved; they were never very close. Nevertheless, Remus knew better.
It would've been a wonderful idea to let James and Lily in on the secret, but Remus insisted on waiting just a bit longer. James deserved to know that a child was on the way, and both of them deserved to rejoice in their honeymoon phase. Sirius, while cautious, agreed.
"I don't know what you expected," Sirius snapped. "Berk never shows up to anything. He didn't even bother showing up to the wedding."
James was always quick to defend Peter whenever the opportunity presented itself. They'd been friends through school, and although his appearances were sparse in the Order, James was loyal and endearing to a fault. Until enough evidence had been provided to prove Peter's guilt, James would stand by his side to the end. Remus wasn't confident enough in his relationship with James to hold a case against Peter; it'd been bumpy from the start, and Remus always ended up screwing things up. If anything, this all relied on Sirius, and that was not a fact the latter was prepared for.
"Oi," James frowned, "don't be rude, mate. He's probably just finishing up patrol duty. You know he takes morning shifts."
"Oh, yeah," Sirius rolled his eyes knowingly, shooting an unconvinced sneer towards Remus. "Totally."
Just as James opened his mouth to respond, Lucas returned with a notepad and pen, a smile stretching from ear to ear.
"Are you all ready to order," he asked sweetly, eyes lingering a moment too long on Sirius' form.
"Ladies first," Sirius gestured.
"Oh! I'll have the fry-up," she began. "But, instead of black pudding, could you toast and smear the bread with peach marmalade, and the tomatoes – can they be grilled? I'd prefer both sausage and bacon, both cooked well, and no mushrooms, please, they're God awful."
All four men stared in awe at Lily who, at one point in history, barely ate her eggs and bacon, let alone an entire fry-up meal. Remus could figure out why she'd settled on such a large breakfast; she was no longer eating for one. Didn't women get cravings during pregnancy? Was Lily craving sodium? He'd have to do some research.
"I'll just have eggs benedict and a hashbrown," James decided, folding his menu definitively.
"And you, sir," Lucas gestured toward Sirius, eyes widening with curiosity.
"He and I," Sirius gestured between himself and Remus without a moment's hesitation, "will split a full breakfast with a side of Scotch pancakes. Poor Rem here has the appetite of a senile witch. He prefers the maple syrup for whatever ghastly reason unbeknownst to me, and we'll have our bread extra toasted with brown sauce on the side."
Lucas' eyes flitted between the pair, not sure whether to laugh or grimace. In all actuality, Remus didn't quite know how to respond to that. It had been months since they'd last gone out to breakfast with one another, and he felt incredulous that Sirius could still remember their order. If he closed his eyes long enough, Remus could imagine their usual diner – empty as usual – with old records playing.
He hated his nostalgic brain.
Lucas walked away soon after refilling their coffee, this time bringing Remus some authentic creamer instead of the powdered form that tasted like baking soda. They chatted over things that most people their age do – concerts they wished they could attend, movies in cinemas they were far too afraid to step into, and houses they could only dream of affording.
Remus watched, with slight envy, as James and Lily mollycoddled one another in their newlywed bliss. Ah, to be young and in love, he thought. It must've been sublime to have love without fault.
"Alright," Lily announced. "I can't hide it any longer."
"Hide what," James asked, eyes intense and worried.
"James. Sirius," Lily breathed. "I wanted to be sure before I told you."
The moment of truth had been here. Remus smiled knowingly, unable to contain his glee. James feebly attempted to draw the information out of Remus with stares of utter disbelief and dismay, but Remus kept his cool. This was Lily's news, not his. But, damn it, did he want to surprise them.
"James, honey," Lily said. "You're going to be a father."
There it was – the look Remus had been waiting for. The smack in the face followed by elation couldn't be bought off the rack. It was real and authentic, a look not many got to experience in their lifetime. James was thrilled, to say the least. It was written over every inch of his body. His skin, tanned and warm, grew three shades darker with all the blood rushing to his face as he nearly jumped for joy in his seat. He raised his fists in the air – a staple of joy.
He didn't care that Remus had known before him, didn't ask when or how or where. No, James was thrilled beyond belief at the idea of a little James or Lily trotting around in front of them, and that's what made Remus' heart soar.
"You're pregnant," Sirius asked dumbly, jaw slack. "I'm going to be an uncle?"
James, breath heavy, shouted, "We're having a baby, Lils!"
He scooped her in his arms, holding her tight and vowing to never fail again. Remus chuckled, sipping the sweetened coffee and watching. Sirius broke out into his starry-eyed grin, the excitement seeping into his bones as the truth weighed down.
Their breakfast was filled with questions of what if's. Whether it was a boy or a girl, would they have red hair or something else entirely? Whose eyes would they have? Would they inherit the brains or the brawn – would their favorite color be red or yellow?
Remus chimed in on occasion but preferred sitting back and watching as his family nattered away about a future they all deserved.
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Belle's Baby Boutique, March 1980
Sirius had never been baby shopping before. What did one buy so early on? Lily sure knew exactly what she was getting their baby, as she'd fully decided that she would be birthing a girl. With all considered, girl clothing was the appropriate option.
"I couldn't stand having another boy," Alice teased, fiddling with some frilly tutu on the rack. "There's enough of them as is!"
"Imagine having another Frank," Marlene said. "Or James!"
"It wouldn't be too bad," Sirius defended James, who'd been too busy searching through the boys' section to be bothered with the ladies on the other side of the shop. "He'd probably be just as dashing and charming as the old man himself."
"Yes, but since she's a she," Lily ruffled Sirius' hair, tossing another item in his buggy, "she will be just as bright and witty as her mother."
Sirius groaned. Shopping for himself was a rare luxury one couldn't afford these days. Not that he didn't have the money. Gold was falling from his arse with all of his inheritances; with the Black family fortune in his account, he could easily spend the rest of his life in leisure with his friends. No, it was the constant state of hypertension and paranoia that had ruined any "fun" the boys managed to snag during their downtime – and downtime was even more uncommon.
"Lily," Sirius said, "I'm going to browse with the guys."
"Alright, but don't let James put that rancid broomstick in the basket," she called, too absorbed in her picking with a pregnant Alice to be bothered much by anything.
Sirius didn't wait for her to change her mind, slipping past other women – most of them being pregnant – to fall in the ranks of Remus, James, and, to his disdain, Peter Pettigrew.
Why he'd chosen to show up at this particular event, Sirius wasn't quite sure. All he knew was that he didn't trust Peter around Lily in the slightest, and neither did Remus. They did their best to corral him into the boys' section so that he and James could be the chums they used to be, and, even if they didn't say so, it was a bit of an experiment.
Thus far, Peter hadn't acted out of the ordinary. He was still, to Sirius, rather plain and odd both in personality and physique. Peter was short and skinny now, swallowed by his clothes and jacket in the middle of spring, and he grew quite uncomfortable under the stair of Marlene and other women. Being in a baby's boutique, women stared a lot. Nevertheless, he was quiet until spoken to and made it very apparent that his feelings toward Remus were neutral at best.
That was better than whatever was between him and Sirius.
"Do you suppose it's really a girl," Peter asked, voice hushed under the bustle of babbling women.
James had been eyeing that bloody broomstick like it was the next best thing since sliced bread.
"I hope so," Remus sighed, pulling his friend away from the Quidditch section. "If we have another dunderhead in our mixes, we'll all go insane."
Peter eyed him suspiciously, careful not to be caught as he picked at the scabs on his fingers.
"But I mean," he stuttered, "frankly, I thought you all would want a boy."
James looked through the shoes, eyeing a certain pair of mini trainers with mild interest.
"No doubt Frank and Alice will have one," he commented offhandedly. "They're dying for a son."
Sirius shrugged, "No use in trying to decide. It's all a mystery till April."
"What's in April?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes at Peter, communicating his bitterness at his lack of knowledge, "The ultrasound, or were you planning on skipping out on that one, too?"
Remus laid a placating hand on his friend's shoulder, fingers squeezing gently, "Pads. Enough."
Sirius trailed his eyes over Remus, never once deciding pouting was inappropriate for the mood, "Fine."
Peter trailed James' closely, watching the things he picked up and sat down, the things his eyes lingered on, the things he commented on. Sirius hung a few feet behind, close enough to observe but not too close to rouse suspicion; alerting Peter of his skepticism could be detrimental. Very detrimental. Sirius wasn't exactly sure what he suspected him of anymore, truthfully. Remus had retold the story of Knocturn Alley, about his ties with the Malfoy's, and the rather convenient absences when things went horribly wrong.
But then again what did it all mean?
Here he was – Peter Pettigrew at just barely five feet and a half tall with arms as thick as switches and a twitch in his left eye. He barely graduated from Hogwarts with only just suitable marks in all subjects, and the Order was lucky enough to get a day's work out of his lazy arse. Not only was he consistently tardy to any event, but it would also've appeared he went out of his way to miss the things that were most important to his friends, and for what?
Joining the Dark Lord's ranks?
Sirius was unsure. Why in Merlin's name would Voldemort want a rat such as Peter fucking Pettigrew? He was smarmy and devious – only cared about where his next meal came from. Sirius wondered why in the hell he was ever sorted into Gryffindor because it was painfully obvious he was a coward.
"When's Lily's due date," Peter asked unexpectedly, eyes darting amongst his lost Marauder's.
They dawdled on Remus, petrified almost when he opened his mouth.
"We're not sure yet," Remus answered. "Some time at the end of the summer most likely. Why do you ask?"
Peter chortled. It was forced and arduous as if he were pushing a fat turd out of his mouth to pose it as an excuse.
"Who wouldn't want to know when to expect a little girl," Peter said.
"Or a boy," James pointed out, sneaking in a pair of Quidditch goggles under a dress.
"I've got my bets on a girl," Remus declared. "When Lily wants something, she definitely gets it. Like good old Prongs, here."
James blushed profusely, eyeing his wife from the opposite end of the store. Sirius smiled. It was adorable seeing his friend so utterly in love. Hell, it was adorable seeing him happy. In times like those, these little moments were so sacred and limited. Everything was tainted by loss and damage that, sometimes, Sirius forgot there were good things that happened, too.
Like little babies and marriage.
Little babies.
Sirius never thought about having children. There never seemed to be a good enough time to talk about it with Moony. Never seemed to be the time in general to do the things that mattered. In the grand scheme of things, he was happy taking care of a little Lily Pad until further notice.
He could only imagine what they would look like. Here's hoping for another untameable mop of hair, only this time bright red. She'd have bright hazel eyes, just like her daddy, and a toothy grin to match. No doubt James would have her on a broomstick before she walked, and Lily would sing her ABBA to sleep if she got the chance.
Yes, little babies.
Sirius' heart fluttered. It was so close. He could only pray that Wormtail didn't ruin it for them.
"Padfoot, Moony. I've got a question for you two that I've been meaning to ask for a while," James said, sauntering over with a pair of gloves. Not just any gloves. Quidditch gloves. Not only this, but they were also a few feet away from Peter, Sirius noticed.
Remus spoke as he plucked them from his grasp, laying them back on the table where he'd found them, "Yes, Prongs?"
Defeated yet somehow determined, James asked, "Would you two like to be the baby's Godfathers? I know that you're only supposed to have one, but… Lily came up with these ridiculous names for you, and now I can't get them out of my head."
Remus shared a laugh, nodding gratefully.
"Only if I like the names," Sirius jested.
"Dadfoot and Moomy."
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The Potter's Residence, April 1980
Sirius flitted around the apartment like a bee in the spring. Everything had to be perfect – the balloons, the cake (which had finally come from the correct bakery – Remus made sure of it), the décor, the streamers. Every last detail in the Potter's flat had been tweaked and fine-tuned by none other than the Godfather of their child. It was his duty! It was his and Moomy's duty to ensure that such an occasion was written for history. Besides, any party Sirius Black threw would be remembered for a decade.
"Have you made sure the punch bowl is filled, Remus," he called from the kitchen.
"Yes. Now hush, or you'll wake Regulus," Remus responded harshly.
Sirius felt his insides shrink and his heart wither. Remus had been in a bit of a mood; it was days before the full moon, and he was always a bit short before transformations. And although he was right about Regulus' nap, it wouldn't have hurt to be a tad kinder.
The oven had reminded him of the pigs in a blanket just waiting to be dipped in cheese; with his glove clad hand, he removed them, inhaling deeply the aroma of appetizer after appetizers. He was tempted to take one – just a quick snack before the guests arrived. After all, he had been slaving away in the kitchen for hours while Moony just sat there looking pretty until told what to do. He deserved it!
Gently, he plucked a sausage from the tray, juggling it in his mouth as to not burn himself.
"Shit, shit, shit," he swore, the roof of his mouth singed.
"Did you get into the party snacks," Remus asked from the living room.
Sirius stiffened, resuming his duties as a chef as if nothing had ever happened, "Aren't you supposed to be stuffing bags?"
He heard a shuffle, a grunt, and an exasperated sigh; perhaps stuffing tiny bags wasn't Remus' strong-suit. He was far too big and his hands were the size of teapots. Sirius would have a cow if he ripped the wrapping paper he ordered for the party; it was just perfect for the occasion. With everyone coming, there surely wouldn't be enough for too many extras. Maybe he should've just stuffed them?
He entered the dining room, squished between different gift boxes and furniture they had yet to arrange. Remus, the poor bastard, was nearly up to his chin in stuffing paper and bags. Thanks to the lovely Mrs. Potter senior, the color of the party favors were charmed to uphold a sense of secrecy and mystery; she'd been the only one to know the gender of little baby Potter and refused to tell even Fleamont. All that said, seeing Remus surrounded by shimmering, cloud-like wrapping paper drenched in grays was tantalizing. Couldn't they just counter one bag?
"You're doing it again," Remus muttered, focusing severely on not tearing the bag.
"Doing what," Sirius stared, feeling his eyes widen as a rip tore down the side of a gray bag. He cringed.
"Staring."
"What's not to stare at," Sirius commented, purely instinctually.
It was difficult controlling such reactions; their banter, platonic or not, had always been flirtatious. Leave that to their hearts to sort out; their newfound friendship was challenging to navigate. On the one hand, going out of their way to ensure all comments and taunting hinted only at brotherly, platonic affection was awkward and required far too much effort for Sirius. Yet, on the other, the way Remus would look at him – almost with disgust – as he made little remarks as such took a notch out of his withering heart.
"You always get like this before something big," Remus merely said. "But, with that, comes your extreme need to control."
"I don't control," Sirius scoffed, offended that Remus would even consider such a thing.
"Then why are you restuffing the bags I've already finished?"
Looking down at his hands, Sirius had, in fact, been tinkering with the party favor bags. But he wasn't fixing them! Just tidying them up. Remus wasn't as much of a perfectionist as he'd been, and there was not a thing wrong with that! Only, Sirius wanted to make sure everything looked nice for Lily and James upon their return from brunch.
"I just –" Sirius fumbled over his tongue, blushing as Remus smirked.
"It's fine, Pads," Remus assured him. "Just don't get too worked up. They're going to love it."
"I know," Sirius sighed. "What if everyone else doesn't?"
"Why does it matter if anyone else doesn't like it," Remus said, returning his attention to his task. "It isn't their party."
Sirius watched in slight awe. There was once a time when all Remus could figure was how to be the Remus everyone else wanted him to be. He'd been so obsessed with self-portrayal, not even in an arrogant sense. No, he wanted to be the friend everyone else needed, the shoulder to cry on or the buddy to lean on in tough times. He wanted to be the pupil – normal and smart, ready to take on the world.
But that wasn't who he was. Of course, Remus was the pupil, the shoulder to cry on, and the buddy to rely on. He was all of that and more, at least to Sirius. However, he was far from normal. If anything, he was the furthest thing from "normal." It wasn't only his lycanthropy (Sirius didn't really care about any of that anymore), but his personality. He was witty and quick with remarks, keeping things quite interesting in conversation. In this, however, he could be awkward and fall over his own two feet like a foal in the summer. His love for chocolate was unbelievably obsessive, and there was no denying that he adored musicals to the utmost extent.
To see him out of his shell was, well, invigorating. If only he could enjoy it much more intimately.
"You're right," Sirius said. "I'm sorry, Moony. It's just a big day, is all."
"I know, Sirius," Remus murmured.
"With all that's happened these past few months," Sirius began, "it just feels like this is much needed, you know?"
"Mhm."
Sirius knew he wasn't paying much attention anymore. Remus' attention had been on finishing the bags, or, maybe, it was ignoring a rather emotional Sirius altogether? Remus was so good at avoidance; it was almost as if he didn't have to try. No. It must've been that, with the rocky road that paved the way through their relationship, he'd just learn to turn it on like a switch. Sirius frowned; how horridly had he treated Remus?
"Can I talk to you about something, Moony," Sirius asked, feeling ridiculous and childish for even being nervous.
Remus sighed, setting down his bag and eyeing Sirius with prudence. There was a warning flare in his amber eyes, a silent plea to just not go there that evening.
"What's going on then," Remus answered.
Now that he'd gotten the guts to ask, Sirius no longer wanted to talk. His emotions had been placed on the back burner for months, his mind on auto-pilot on most occasions. With Lily and James surrounded by cupid's and storks, Peter sneaking off to dark corners of the planet, the the senior Potter's too busy to bother with him, Sirius was lonely. Remus was the only available outlet, and, if he were true to his heart, the only outlet he wanted to use.
Sirius played with his smock, reminding himself of a scolded toddler.
"I… I don't know – erm – I don't know how to begin, really," he said.
Remus crossed his legs, "Would it be easier if I asked questions?"
Sirius softened at the memory of that fateful night their second year. He'd confronted Remus about his monthly absences, his dreadful appearance, and the poor health he'd been in. Instead of talking out of his arse, Sirius asked him questions – questions that led to the discovery of Remus' lycanthropy. Sirius would never take that day back; it brought them one step closer to who they were now.
"Yeah, please," Sirius said, sitting down across from Remus.
Remus snickered, "Now I don't even know where to begin. Feels like we've not had a moment alone in years."
Siruis forced a small laugh, hoping that his melancholy wouldn't seep through the façade and ruin the mood. It was hard to catch Remus laughing those days, very hard indeed.
"You look tired," Remus noted quietly, the smirk falling like rain water. "How have you been sleeping lately?"
Sirius wished he hadn't opted in for this anymore; the tears were already welling, and now he truly was acting as an errant child. His sleep schedule wasn't something to cry over. It was something to fix, yes. But was it that noticeable that his bedroom brought back memories he so terribly hoped would go away?
"F—"
"Don't lie, Pads," Remus stated, firm yet oh so tender. "You were having nightmares before I left." Sirius looked toward the window at the sunset, distracting himself from the lump in his throat. "They're worse now, aren't they."
Sirius felt his leg bouncing rapidly, the rhythmic thump of his heel echoing through the flat; he dared not wake Regulus, yet found himself unable to stop. His nails were chewed down to the nubs and if he raked his ring clad fingers through his hair one more time, chunks would be falling out by the second. So, he chewed his lips, not stopping even when the sting of blood wet his tongue.
"I can't get rid of it," he whispered, terrified of his own words. "It won't stop replaying, Remus."
"Benjy?" Remus spoke, but his voice didn't splinter the chaos ridding Sirius' thoughts.
"Benjy, Walburga, Julienne, Regulus, Orion, Alphard," Sirius listed off the names of those who'd died.
He hadn't even seen all of them perish. His father's passing was just as mysterious as Alphard's, and he was lucky enough to only catch Julienne in her final moments wrapped in bandages and cloth. Yet, they still called out to him in his dreams – blaming him, beseeching him. All of them were dead, and they were dead because of him. If he'd only been more attentive, more vigilant.
"All of them," Sirius said. "They're dead, Rem. Benjy – I – it was me! I should've been more careful, more watchful."
Remus moved to the edge of Sirius' chair, clearly afraid of any physical contact lest it upset Sirius; he was smart.
"Sirius, that wasn't your fault," he reasoned, but Sirius was having none of it."
"Remus," Sirius interrupted, looking horrified of his own reflection. "Am I a bad person?"
Remus' voice was stern and final, "You are not a bad person, Sirius."
"How do you know," Sirius barked.
"Because I know you," Remus replied. "I know you're a good man with good intentions who wouldn't harm a fly."
Sirius looked away, afraid his emotions might betray his glower.
"I killed a spider yesterday."
"Well, I hate spiders, so there's an exception," Remus murmured.
Sirius felt warmth spread across his arm, a gentle squeeze where Remus' hand had replaced nothing but air. His nerves, still rancid and frazzled, bristled at the touch. Even if it was only a tiny gesture with enough meaning to fuel a pitiful kindling, it was something. Sirius couldn't bring himself to move, to think, much less to speak. He thought he could have this conversation, but as it would turn out, he was far too afraid of what was in his own head.
"Sometimes, when I have them, I cast my patronus," Remus said, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. "It helps to have something good in the room with you… even if it's just a stupid ball of light."
"I know it should help having Regulus in the other room," Sirius explained, "but it feels like I'm only talking to the shell of him. Like he's not really there anymore."
"I know," Remus sighed. "Once he heals, it will get better. For now, try the patronus."
Sirius knew Remus was only trying to help, but his advice did little. Sirius had tried everything from sleeping with the lights on to only sleeping during the day. No matter what he did, the faces of Benjy and others haunted him. There was only one remedy to these things, though it was unavailable and more likely to stay that way for the remainder of his life.
For Moony's sake, however, he conceded.
"Okay. I'll try."
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Sirius managed to look overjoyed during the party. The usual crowd filled up the flat – James and Lily, of course, the Longbottoms, the Weasley's, along with Marlene and Dorcas in the rear. Edgar had decided to take the patrol shift for the night; he wasn't fond of big get-together's like the others had been. Sirius didn't mind anyway. Edgar was a debby downer even with Marlene around.
The party itself was a hit. His pigs in a blanket were praised and the cake was gawked at like a prized dragon. Thank Remus for that one; if he hadn't remembered to pick it up, the big surprise would have been absent from the night, therefore ruining the party – a feat Sirius was still pertified of.
"Who created that lovely banner," Marlene asked, sipping her wine while gingerly draped across Dorcas' lap.
"That would be our little artiste," Lily said. "Sirius, here, is a very skilled painter."
"He or She, Come in to See," Dorcas read. "Very creative."
"Thanks," Sirius murmured.
James had provided a record player, their favorite tunes humming from the corner. Some danced as others chatted; Sirius didn't really notice much. His attention had been on his younger brother, slumped on the couch as he tried to manage the loud noise as best he could. Even with James beside him, Sirius worried. He didn't want to strain Regulus; the Healer had been adamant that rest was needed in order for his head to recover.
Nevertheless, Regulus all but demanded he be in attendance. He didn't want to miss James' big moment, he claimed. Sirius, a sucker for Regulus by this point, begrudgingly accepted. Though he wasn't happy about it. Call it misappropriated annoyance or cynicism – whatever you want.
"I doubt you even have that many galleons, old Reginald," James sneered.
"Want a bet," Regulus challenged. "I'll bankrupt you before your little son is born."
"You've got balls, kiddo," James said. "But six galleons would be enough to buy my daughter an even better mobile."
They shook hands, and Sirius groaned, knowing that the six galleons would likely come out of his pocket rather than Regulus' own stash of money. Well, Sirius would certainly not be paying James that much money. Honestly, he'd gift them a mobile and a crib himself. Hell, six galleons was worth a month of rent. What had Regulus gotten himself into?
"Alright, everyone," Lily shouted, clinking her water glass unceremoniously. "It's time to cut the cake!"
Alice squealed, clapping her hands like a kid with a popsicle, and corralled everyone into the dining room where the cake sat. Sirius hung around the back, skulking like a cat near a dumpster, and remained silent. There was no doubt that he was excited; this was the moment he'd been waiting for for nearly three months!
But something held his heart back. All those people in such a small space with only one exit – it put him on edge. He found himself glancing at the windows, at the fire place, and the door, afraid that at any moment Death Eaters could emerge and slaughter them all. Maybe Voldemort himself would come in and take all of their lives in the name of his movement without the bat of an eyelash. Sirius hated that such a celebration was ruined by his anxiety.
But, as Moody said, it's better to be safe than dead or wishing you were.
Just as Lily brought the knife up from the cake, exposing a bright blue against the blade, a loud knock sounded from the doorway.
Sirius, purely instinctually, pulled his wand from his holster, aiming directly at the peep hole even from the stairway. He couldn't be bothered with excitement – they were having a boy! But that baby boy was in danger, so Sirius thought.
There were scattered gasps among the guests, so many of them shocked, even scared, that Sirius would respond such a way. But he wouldn't be sorry, nor would he be dead, by the time that door opened.
"Sirius," Remus scoffed, approaching his friend hurriedly. "There's no need—"
Sirius directed the tip of his wand at Remus' chest; his heart hammered against his ribcage, so forcefully he thought they might splinter. There'd only been a bit of guilt in his head seeing the stunned look on Remus' face as he nearly skidded to a halt.
"James, approach the door slowly and ask the question," Sirius demanded, averting his eyes to the doorway once more.
"Is this really necessary," Peter asked, scooting toward the back of the room with uncertainty.
"Shut the fuck up, Pettigrew," Sirius said, giving a nasty side glance to the one person making it all the more suspicious. "Do it, James."
He watched as James made his way to the door, looking put out with Sirius' antics, but Sirius didn't give a damn. He'd seen too many people die – one too many people die. The last thing he wanted was to see Lily or James, hell, Remus in a casket going six feet under. No one there deserved to perish, and if his popularity amongst the Order dwindled because of his actions then so be it.
James pressed his ear to the door, "What do you call a sick Quidditch commentator?"
Sirius could have blushed for how embarrassing the entire ordeal was, but the only person who knew the answer had been the one to ask the stupid question.
Through the door, Sirius heard, "Ah! A sneezing snitch."
With a grunt, Sirius lowered his wand. James sighed, relief pooling in his face as he unlocked the door. There stood Dumbledore and Mad-Eye Moody, looking just as grumpy as usual, with another person hidden behind their statures. Everyone exchanged their greetings, smiling at their previous Headmaster with gentle, warm welcomes; Sirius had none for him. As much as he respected Dumbledore – at least most of the time – his grudge had remained firm and final. If he hadn't asked him to lie, things would be different.
However, if Sirius had just defied the orders given they would be, too.
"I must say," Dumbledore cooed, eyes squinted behind half-moon spectacles, "this is a rather uplifting change in pace, wouldn't you agree Alastor."
"Hmph," was all their leader said in response.
"Might I ask, is this for Mrs. Potter or Mrs. Longbottom," Dumbledore asked, looking at the decorations in mild interest.
"For me," Lily answered, eyes fluttering over Sirius' stiff body. "It was Sirius' idea."
"Ah," Dumbledore smiled sweetly. "It's lovely, Mr. Black."
"Mm What do you want?"
Seeing as though Sirius weren't in the mood for chit chat, the old man directed his attention elsewhere. Despite this, Sirius felt his eyes drift to the stranger in his flat – a small, skinny woman with glasses far too large for her face and jewlrey down to her feet. She looked odd and, if he were being honest, a bit mangey to be in London. It was clear she was a witch, but perhaps a witch from West Country or some place elsewhere that was… rural.
"Well, I suppose we ought to get straight to it then, Sybill," Dumbledore sighed. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, may we speak in private?"
Lily opened her mouth, her expression turned near panic as she gestured to her guests and cake, but James beat her to the punch, "What's so important that the group can't know?"
Sirius leaned against the wall, careful not to disturb the photograph next to his face. He dared not look at it, lest he be reminded of the old days. It wasn't a moment to reminisce.
"It would be for everyone's wellbeing that it were discussed privately," Moody quipped. "You'll regret it if you don't."
James, torn down the middle, looked to Sirius for guidance. Sirius didn't trust this – not one bit. Dumbledore was cunning and smooth and knew exactly what to say and how to say it. With Lily and James so distracted by the party, it was likely he would convince them to do something way out of their league.
"I'll come with you," he spoke, gesturing to the stairs. "There's an office we can speak in upstairs."
Each couple nodded, exchanging glances filled with unshed emotion – worry and horror, trepidation and angst. Sirius didn't let these things get the better of him; they needed someone to be strong, and it would've appeared it was him that evening.
"Wait," Lily called. "Peter and Remus should come, too. We trust them."
Alastor looked ready to protest, tell them that this wasn't a conference to discuss baby names, no doubt, but Dumbledore gave a graceful nod accompanied with the old smile that appeased everyone else's nerves.
But not Sirius'. As they made their way upstairs, one by one, Sirius watched. Peter brought up the rear, eyes glued to the floor. There was something about the way he stuffed his hands in his pockets; he never did that before. His shoulders were hunched and his brows knitted together in a bushy little knot.
Sirius blocked his path, "Not you."
No one seemed to notice upstairs, too far away to hear their conversation.
"Why not," Peter asked, defeated tone already taking over.
"You know why."
Peter's eyes widened, his jaw now slack as Sirius glowered. There was the confirmation he'd been waiting months for. Hell, Peter didn't even try to deny it. He stood there, looking as stupid as ever with his mouth ajar and eyes wide like bowling balls.
"It's true then," Sirius continued.
When Peter tried to back track, to replace his shock with an incredulous laugh, Sirius could only laugh with him.
There was always something about Peter – something about him lately that had rubbed him the wrong way. He betrayed his friends, his family. The people who took him in when no one else wanted him.
"You're mad," Peter scoffed. "Now let's go, they're waiting."
Peter shoved past Sirius' arm, hurrying up the stairs to find out what secret news. It almost looked desperate as though his life depended on it. Sirius didn't hesitate to follow him, sending daggers with his eyes that would hopefully pierce the back of his skull and knock him dead.
They entered the office as Dumbledore said, "I've brought young Sybil here to transpire the prophecy."
"No," Frank said. "I can't listen – we can't bear to listen to it!"
Lily, looking borderline devastated, could only so much as stare at the wall; silent tears fell down her makeup covered face, tracking down her blouse like rain. James' eyes were closed as he shook his head, uttering words of disbelief under his breath. Remus stood beside them, rigid and unmoving as Alice wept into Frank's arms.
"What did I miss," Sirius asked, concern seeping into his bones.
He hurried over to James, taking his friend by the shoulders. James refused to look at him, eyes screwed shut in agony. Sirius, hysterical, turned to Remus. Had something happened to the baby? To the senior Potter's? Was anyone hurt – had he failed again?
"Remus," Sirius pleaded. "Tell me what happened!"
Remus broke from his daze of astonishment, tears forcing their way out.
"Voldemort… he's… I don't –"
"Sybill told a prophecy of the Chosen One," Alastor barked, unmoved by any of it. "Told the fate of the one with the powers to defeat Riddle, but it's likely he'll get to him first."
"So what," Sirius shouted. "That's got nothing to do with us."
"It'll be one of their sons," Alastor continued. "If they have a son."
Sirius' arms fell to his side in defeat; the world seemed to spin around him, his vision becoming hazy and unfocused. His lungs, crushed beneath the weight of this revelation, begged for air, but Sirius couldn't find it in him to breathe. No wonder they'd all looked so devastated, so hopeless. Sirius felt hopeless, and the child wasn't even his.
"I need air," Peter muttered, removing himself from the presence of others.
Sirius hardly noticed his absence at first, a veil of gloom hanging over him as he thought of all the lost opportunities. It wasn't set in stone; he hadn't heard the entirety of the first prophecy yet, however he didn't want to.
Despite all of this, he was reminded of something – of someone. Peter had been asking so many questions lately, all about the baby. His due date, his gender, where they would be moving to in May. Why the hell had he been so curious?
Remus looked at Sirius, the truth dawning on the both of them at once.
"We need to stop Peter," Remus said.
"What," James asked, following them downstairs. "What about Peter?"
"We have to stop him," Sirius repeated. He raised his voice. "Don't let Pettigrew leave!"
They shoved through guests; damn did he hate having a smaller flat now. Faces were blending with faces, his tears obstructing the clarity of the room. He couldn't tell some apart from others, couldn't tell where the exit had been. Even Remus struggled, apologizing as he shouldered through everyone.
"Where's Pettigrew!"
A resounding crack echoed through the apartment; Sirius covered his ears. He felt overwhelmed by all the sounds, the people, the smell of smoke filling his nose. Everything was collapsing into his world at once, and the façade he'd put together for weeks was crumbling with it. A panic attack was oncoming as he figured out Peter had gotten away, figured out that his Godson might have a death sentence before ever being born, figured out that his best friends might all die because his flat was too fucking small!
Remus' voice called out over the commotion, "Everyone, we need to –"
Remus never finished, however, as he was interrupted by plumes of black smoke from every possible corner. From the windows, under doors, and the chimney.
They were under attack.
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Oh, boy. How's it feel knowing next chapter will be the last? : (
To answer a few questions, no there will be no Epilogue since there's a continuation in the sequel. I'm not exactly sure when the first chapter to the sequel will be published. A part of me wants to finish all my schoolwork and the editing process before I move onto Obliviate, but another part of me (the impulsive Nicole) wants to jump right into it. I will be posting a goodbye chapter, however, for those of you who wish to end your journey with Mischief Managed.
I just want to thank all of you before I go for sticking with me. I'll save the sentimentals for the end.
Until the very (close) end,
Nic.
