Author's note: Before you ask: yes, I did make myself sad writing this. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights

Content Warnings: Alludes to canonically abusive home; running away

Goodbye and a Show

"I can't believe you two boys are just shy of being grown but getting you two to the train is still like herding cats," Euphemia said, clucking her tongue and clutching her purse as they speed-walked. James paused in the middle of the train station as she said it just to prove her right, knocking his knees against the cart loaded up with his school things. "James, come along now! If you miss the train you're walking to school, do you hear me? You're walking to school barefoot!"

"I think he just spotted his penpal," Sirius said mischievously with a grin on his face from the other side of her. James spun around and tried to ram his cart into his friend's.

"That's enough," Euphemia chided, playfully swatting James's arm even if these two boys—no matter hopeless they were when they were paired up—always made her laugh. They knew it, too. They could try stealing the moon and she'd just laugh and dust the stardust off their hair, no matter how she tried to parent them.

"James, you have six years of practise falling to gobsmacked little pieces around that Lily Evans girl, surely you can keep it together for another ten minutes until I've got you on that train."

Sirius burst into laughter, the sound loud and shameless as a dog's bark in the busy platform.

"You snitched on me!" James accused Sirius.

"I would never," Sirius said through his laughter. "Mama P just has eyes of her own."

"That's right," Euphemia said with a grin. It made her happy that Sirius had slowly stopped calling her Mrs. Potter over the course of the summer he'd spent living in her house and eating her food. She already felt old enough, having had James at such a late age, and besides. Sirius wasn't some ministry clerk trying to impress her or a young entrepreneur trying to charm some of the family fortune off of her for a charitable cause or business venture. He was living in her house and eating her food. He was getting goodnight kisses because she didn't care how old he was, and she was slowly discovering his favourite sweets and what books to pluck from the library shelves for her. He was just about her boy, if not because she'd made him, then because her son had claimed him as a brother. And if not because of James, then because he needed to be someone's boy in this world.

With James sobered up (for now), they made their way onto Platform 9 ¾, which was just as busy and chaotic as the rest of King's Cross.

"Moony said he and Wormtail would meet us by the bench where we carved our initials last year," James said.

"Where you did what?" Euphemia asked, bypassing those ridiculous nicknames. She'd asked more than once what they meant but the two boys always exchanged glares and said something like well it changes, you see and burst out laughing so hard, they could never answer.

"Don't worry about it Ma, nobody saw," James said.

"Yeah, it's just initials too, no names," Sirius said, craning his head to try and find the other two boys in the crowd. "I don't see them…"

Then Sirius paled, because he'd seen somebody else. There was Walburga Black, stuffed in a green wool dress buttoned sharply to her throat, hair in an unforgiving chignon at the back of her head. She had her arm on her other son, Regulus's, shoulder and her husband stood by them with his hands neatly and politely folded behind his back—even if Euphemia had a sense of how impolite and messy the man could be behind closed doors. And that woman, well, she always looked like she had just swallowed a lemon, but when she saw Sirius it was like one had been shoved up the other end, too. When Euphemia had immigrated from Jamaica, she'd had a terrible time acclimating to Britain's wizarding culture, with its purebloods and traditions—even with all of Fleamont's help and patience and promises that she was doing fine. People like Walburga Black reassured her that she wasn't the one at fault; this culture was broken and miserable and unhappy. And now that she had Sirius under her wing, people like Walburga Black made her furious too.

"Maybe they're already onboard—you know how Remus is always an hour early to everything," James suggested. He hadn't spotted the Black family across the station, or the effect they'd had on his friend. As if poor Sirius had seen a ghost.

"Well then get inside and find them quick, I'll look after your trunks," Euphemia said, taking her wand out of her purse and casting a quick Alohomora spell to pile the boys's trunks onto a single cart. "Say goodbye to your mother first, love, and promise that you'll write…"

"I always do, Ma," James said, wrapping his arms around her in one of those big, satisfying bear hugs of this.

"For the first week and then you forget all about me because you're up to some new scheme!" Euphemia said accusingly. She switched to patois to relegate her usual instructions—try to be good and if you're not then be smart and stay hidden, try hard in class even in the ones you don't like, be polite to your professors, eat some vegetables, et cetera.

Then she turned to Sirius. She opened her arms as wide as they could go.

"I'm going to miss you, Sirius!" she announced so loudly, she knew she'd attract Walburga Black's attention. "Come here, lovely boy, give me a big hug before you go..."

Sirius looked a little surprised and then he grinned.

"Oh, it was so nice having you with us this summer, love," she said once she had him wrapped in her arms. She meant it, but she kept her voice loud and performative as she said it. She kissed the top of his head and then looked up over the boy's shoulder. Sure enough, Walburga Black was looking at her and seemed particularly displeased. Maybe there were two lemons in her mouth. Three up the other end. She was turning red, at any rate.

"You must come back for Christmas, alright? Don't let James start any nonsense about spending the holidays at the castle because he wants to see how forest trolls hibernate for himself—yeah? I want both my boys home with me."

"I'll try, Mama P, but you know how he gets when he gets an idea in his head," Sirius said, melting against her a little bit. In a small, quiet voice he added: "Thank you. For everything."

"Anything for my boy," Euphemia promised, hugging him tighter. She lowered her voice. "It's my absolute pleasure. And if I can annoy your mother out of her corset by saying it loud and clear for the whole wide world to hear, so be it."

Sirius burst out laughing, and Walburga smiled.

Then she let go and patted his shoulder. "Now get on that train. Go find your friends, my loves."

Sirius and James nodded and ran off—James tracing back his steps to peck her on the cheeks one last time before he disappeared into the train.

Euphemia met Walburga Black's gaze across the platform and thought back of all the lessons Fleamont had whispered to her about pureblood etiquette and propriety when she'd first moved to try and think of the perfect thing to do.

And so she stuck out her tongue. Walburga Black turned crimson and turned away, grabbing her husband's arm and leaving the platform in a furious rush. Euphemia only smiled.

WC: 1273