Author's note: So once I saw "Shacklebolt" on the list of Sacred 28 families on Wikipedia and imagined from there that Kingsley and Sirius might have known each other before joining the Order, it was game over. 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
Hogwarts: Assignment 8, Mythology Task #11 Write about childhood sweethearts.
Content Warnings: Mentions canon or canon-compliant violence and prejudice; alcohol use/overuse; Azkaban PTSD
Just Another Lost Boy
Oh, you'll never get to heaven in the state you're in
You'll never get to heaven with the pill you're taking
No, you'll never get to heaven when it all falls through
But I'll be there when you want me to
Oh but I, I just wanna shut my eyes
And wash you clean, when it don't come easily
The love I gave to you
-Never Get to Heaven, Flyte
"Remember that you trust me," Mad-Eye grunted as he led Kingsley and Tonks through the decrepit old house. "Both of ya."
"Less and less by the minute but sure," Tonks mumbled to herself as she looked around. "Why in Merlin's name did Dumbledore decide to host his totally legal secret society's inaugural meeting in such a fine establishment as 12 Grimmauld Square?"
"Perhaps the earth had already swallowed Grimmauld Square 1 through 11," Kingsley suggested as he swept his wand across the air to bring down a few cobwebs that Tonks and Moody would duck under but that Kingsley would eat.
"Because Grimmauld 12 is owned by a friend of the Order, one of our oldest members," Mad-Eye grunted. "An old member who's our friend. Remember that, aye?"
"It's so nice to finally get to know you on a personal level, Mad-Eye," Tonks mused. Kingsley chuckled but Mad-Eye didn't dignify either of them again until he pushed into the kitchen and grunted his hellos to the people inside.
"I'll explain everything," Mad-Eye said before holding the door open for them.
Tonks had her wand up immediately, both hands on the hilt to steady her aim and shoot precisely as her eyes zeroed-in on Sirius Black, sitting at his kitchen table and pouring Firewhisky in his tea at 10:24 a.m. Kingsley, even if he should have been trained to know and do better, was frozen in place. He hadn't imagined seeing Sirius Black again; and this was not how he would ever have imagined it.
"There's going to be another boy your age there Sirius, stop being ridiculous," his father chided as he tugged him forwards by the arm. Sirius still felt like squirming, because he still didn't want to go. Not to another wedding that would take forever and be boring because you weren't actually supposed to dance a lot or lick the icing off your spoon or have any kind of fun that was real.
"Regulus doesn't count!" Sirius protested. Regulus was always there, that was the point.
"Another boy," his father said, clicking his tongue. "With Hunley Shacklebolt back from his posting at the Magical Embassy of North America, his son should be making an appearance. Shut up and be still until then or else you'll wish you were in America too."
Sirius was about to open his mouth to say that being across an ocean from the wedding seemed like a perfect solution to his problem, actually, but then he didn't. At least his father hadn't been lying about there being someone else his age; after the boring wedding and the boring cocktail hour and the boring photography and the boring meal, Sirius met Kingsley.
His dad had lied; he wasn't his age, he was two years older, but still. He was only 9. He was wearing dress robes that were a purple so dark it looked black. Sirius was instantly impressed that he was wearing such a fun colour to a wedding; Sirius's clothes were the shades of sidewalk and rain clouds.
"Is it true you lived in America?" Sirius asked Kingsley once they were left alone because their mothers wanted to go gossip with Odetta Goyle.
"Yes," Kingsley said. Sirius was somewhat disappointed that he didn't have an accent but he moved on.
"Have you ever seen a Thunderbird?" he asked. "I heard that they're only in North America."
"No, because we lived in the city," Kingsley said sadly. "What about you, have you ever seen a Niffler?"
"Sure," Sirius said. "There's a few that do tricks at Diagon Alley with their handlers. Near Madam Malkin's."
Kingsley's jaw dropped, even if he was nine and cooler than Sirius.
"What about a dragon?" Kingsley asked.
"Sure," Sirius said again—his brain already trying to think of a lie cool enough to tell Kingsley.
"Umm, hello?" Tonks asked when she saw that Kingsley and Mad-Eye weren't reacting. She was a junior officer; never the one to take the lead during arrests on the field when seniors were present.
"Dumbledore put me in a protection bubble charm of his own device," Sirius informed her. He spun his finger lazily over his cup, and the tea and liquor swirled together.
"Mad-Eye," Kingsley said, mouth dry. "You said you would explain?"
He said it without looking away from Sirius. Kingsley was sure he looked better than he had almost two years ago, when he'd first escaped from Azkaban, but Sirius still didn't look good. His collarbone was as sharp as a knife and his brown hair, which had once been so long and thick, had thinned. There were pockets under his eyes, but they were as strikingly bright as they'd always been. And they were looking right at Kingsley.
There were snowflakes falling from the ceiling during the Yaxleys' Yule party—just as there always was. Every decoration and every plateful of food was the same, but this time Sirius had a friend to show the present he'd unwrapped earlier, when all the children had been sent to grab a random package from underneath the tree. Kingsley had gotten a small chess board that could fold up until it was the size of a pillbox, and he'd shown Sirius how to play a little bit even though it was hard to carry a game since grown-ups kept bothering them. Instead, they moved on to what Siirus had unwrapped: a giant bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, with all the candies in shades of green and red. Kingsley had never had them before, since apparently you could only get them in England.
He gagged on his first one.
"What does this taste like?" Kingsley asked, face sour. "What kind of candy is this?"
Sirius roared with laughter.
"It's every flavour! It's in the name," Sirius laughed.
"This one tastes like raw onions having a bad day," Kingsley said resentfully.
Sirius laughed again.
"You have to try your luck," Sirius said. "There's some good ones, some bad ones, and you just have to pick through the pile and hope it's worth it. My favourite tastes like bread and butter pudding, so it's the wrong colour to be mixed in, but there's got to be some good stuff in here."
Kingsley nodded and Sirius tipped more beans into his palm. Kingsley mused for a second before settling on a cranberry red bean and popping it into his mouth.
"Is it good?" Sirius asked.
"It tastes amazing," Kingsley said. "You should try one."
Sirius nodded and looked through his box of beans to find an identical one. He bit into enthusiastically and was horrified when the taste of raw meat filled his mouth. As soon as Sirius gagged, Kingsley's poker face cracked and he burst out laughing.
"You tricked me!" Sirius said, struggling not to spit out his candy.
"You tricked me first!" Kingsley managed to say through his giggling.
"How?" Tonks asked, blue eyes wide as she twisted a hand in her hair. "How could a mistake that big have been..?"
"Believe me," Sirius said, taking a sip of his tea. "I wish there was an answer to that just as much as you, but no such luck. Better focus on the fact that we're here now, Nymphadora."
"Don't call me Nymphadora," Tonks said automatically. "Not you personally, sorry, that applies to everyone. Only grumbley old men get to call me that."
"Mind your manners Nymphadora, Dumbledore's old but he isn't grumbley yet," Mad-Eye muttered from behind them.
"Alright," Sirius said. "Tonks, then."
Tonks grinned and reached out her hand. Sirius sat up to stretch out and shake her hand. His eyes flitted over Kingsley carefully. They didn't need an introduction. Sirius had, once upon a time, been able to identify Kingsley by the way he looped his letters on a page. But that made it harder to figure out what to say now.
Dear Sirius,
I'm glad you like getting postcards. I think my father likes watching me send them; he thinks letter-writing is a lost art. He also thinks my handwriting is bad and I need to practise, which is why he let me buy this Muggle postcard in Tokyo for you. Hopefully he'll let me get postcards in all the places we go so you can have a collection, if your family lets you keep them I suppose.
I don't think that we'll be back in Britain in time for your birthday, which I'm sorry for because I miss you. There's not a lot of people my age around when dad travels like this, and none of them would be as fun as you anyways. I'm going to try to see if I can find some cool Japanese candy to bring back to you, though. Promise.
Next time I'll plan my postcard out better so I fit in more things and make it interesting. They really aren't that big, and there's so much I want to tell you.
Until next time,
Your friend Kingsley Shacklebolt
Scrimgeour had kept Kingsley late to talk about how they should handle Fudge's latest temper tantrum about Voldemort's return, so he arrived at Grimmauld Square late and soaked. Granted, that meant that he was able to pluck one of the twins' extendable ears from the string it dangled from on his way in. But it also meant that when he walked into the dining room that had become their usual meeting room, his go-to seat between Tonks and Bill Weasley was taken.
"I'm very sorry," Kingsley said as the meeting paused while everyone looked him over. "I was held back at work."
"That's alright, Kingsley," Dumbledore said. "The important thing is that you're here now. Have a seat."
The seat that was closest was at the end of the table, next to Sirius who was looking at Kingsley to gauge what he'd do. Kingsley cleared his throat and took off his soaked cloak as he walked over, draping the garment on the back of the chair before taking his seat. He was processing how close he was to Sirius as the meeting resumed and, frankly, didn't absorb much else during that meeting. He was busy processing the fact that Sirius had gone back to the shampoo he'd always used, and that Kingsley remembered that very faint juniper berry and rosemary smell. The fact that he remembered it, and the fact that Kingsley was Kingsley's shoulders relaxed when he'd smelled it again, gave him a whole lot more to think about. It was as if his mind, now that it had been faced with Sirius Black again, simply couldn't stop thinking about him.
They'd slipped away from the main parlour when everyone had started making toasts to Evangelina Bulstrode and riffing endlessly about her career and what a happy retirement she deserved—Kingsley with his dad's blessing and Sirius because he hadn't asked. They'd decided to hide from any prying eyes or house elves who had been tasked with herding children back to the party by hiding under a table laden with presents in another parlour.
"Is your dad going to stay in Britain long this time?" Sirius asked. "Like… are you going to be here all summer?"
It was so wishful, Sirius almost had trouble saying it out loud.
"I hope so. But I don't know," Kingsley said. "He only came back because of the trouble with… well…"
Kingsley didn't know how much he was allowed to say. He knew some parts of his dad's job were secret, but the parts that were really that secret Kingsley didn't know. Besides, you were supposed to be able to tell your friends important things. But Sirius had already guessed it.
"All the stuff about Voldemort?" Sirius asked.
"Yeah," Kingsley said. "I don't know a lot about what he's doing, but apparently it's going to get worse. The ministry usually sends dad to other countries to make peace and alliances, but now they want him here, talking to the other Sacred 28 families, to make sure that they're not… you know, joining him and all that."
"He's going to have a hard time," Sirius said. "Nobody else here cares that he wants to kill a bunch of people before anything good comes out of his plans."
He went pale as he said it out loud and blushed.
"Sorry," Sirius said, staring at his knees. "Forget that I said anything. I… we're not supposed to talk about it at home."
"But you're right," Kingsley said. "Nobody here cares."
"Forget it," Sirius repeated. "Seriously, Kingsley, I… I don't want it getting back to my dad that I…"
He looked so scared that Kingsley interrupted him before he got more worked up.
"I promise, I promise," Kingsley said. He raised his hand and lifted his pinky. "I pinky swear it."
"What's that?" Sirius asked, so caught off-guard that the distress drained from his face.
"Something the other children at the American private school taught me," Kingsley said. "It's an extra hard promise. A pinky swear. Hook your pinky with mine."
"Okay," Sirius said, seemingly relieved by this. His finger curled around Kingsley's. "Pinky swear."
The table was absolutely swamped by case notes, case studies, index cards, and old issues of The Prophet, but Tonks had some sort of methodology to keep it organized and seemed to know where everything was by some bizarre logic, so Kingsley didn't fight it. As the youngest Auror—the one who got landed with most of the drudgery and who had most recently had to deep-dive through Auror archives for her comprehensive exams—she was the best placed to do it, anyways. Dumbledore and Mad-Eye were pouring over the old Order records and they struggled to triangulate all of it with current intelligence to see which Death Eaters or suspected Death Eaters may or may not have rejoined Voldemort.
"You can drop Corbin Rosier from that list," Sirius said. "Everyone in Azkaban called him the most useless Death Eater ever. If he's been denying Voldemort all these years, he'll probably just do us the favour of killing him off himself to make an example."
And then there was Sirius. Sirius sitting at this table supplementing their knowledge with the gossip he'd overheard in Azkaban, the things Death Eaters had shouted in frustration as they paced, had whimpered in their sleep or confessed as the Dementors had glided past their cells.
"We'll add his name to our list, but leave a note not to expend too many resources on him," Mad-Eye said with a nod.
Sirius nodded and sunk back down in his chair, running a hand through his unwashed hair. Kingsley recognized the look on his face from the few times he'd accompanied Fudge or Scrimgeour for inspections of the prison. It was a look that spoke of emptiness and little else; a look that didn't even ask what was left to take anymore. A lonely, faraway look that sunk its teeth into Kingsley and twisted, since guilt always hurt the most.
"At least we'll see each other when you come home for the holidays," Sirius mumbled, picking at a loose thread in the hem of his trousers.
"And you'll be at Hogwarts in two years," Kingsley reminded him, yanking at his collar. Both of them were dressed in their nicest clothes for Edmund Burke and Eliza Flint's wedding, even if their stuffiness made the August heat overwhelming. Kingsley was jealous of Andromeda and Narcissa and Bellatrix and the other girls who got to wear light and airy skirts. Impressions are important, Kingsley, his father had told him when he'd complained. It takes far less effort to attract others to you when you're dripping in honey.
"Right," Sirius said. "Two years feels like a lot."
"It's not," Kingsley promised him. "I haven't been to Johannesburg in two years and I can still smell the market when I close my eyes and think it through."
"Alright, just… promise you won't forget me until then?"
"I won't," Kingsley said. "How could I forget you? We're going to write to each other all the time."
"That's true," Sirius said. He raised his pinky finger up for Kingsley. "Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise," Kingsley nodded.
"I'll meet you there," Tonks said as she shrugged on her coat and walked out of the meeting. "We don't want to arrive at Dawlish's birthday thing together, Scrimgeour would get suspicious."
"That's tonight?" Kingsley asked regretfully. He'd been looking forward to picking up some donair on the way home, locking himself in his flat, and finally finishing that book he never had time to read.
"7:00 p.m. at Florian Fortescue's," Tonks yelled over her shoulder as she left the house.
"Florian Fortescue's?"
Kingsley startled. He hadn't realized that Sirius was still on the main floor; that he hadn't yet retreated into the house as he tended to do once Order meetings were done.
"Yes," Kingsley said. Realization dawned on him. "Fatima Fortescue's son—he took over the shop about ten years ago, I think. They use the same family recipe, don't worry. If anything, Florian is even more outlandish than his mother was."
"Ah," Sirius said. "Sorry. I'm sure it's obvious to other people."
"It's not," Kingsley said. "It's just something that… well, that most of us know because we were around and we heard it as it happened. Twelve years… that's a lot of time to catch up on."
"So I'm finding out," Sirius said. "I did hear some things in Azkaban, though. I… I was sorry to hear about your father."
Kingsley stiffened but then breathed out. Sirius sounded more sincere now, almost fourteen years after Death Eaters had killed his father for his deradicalization work than most of the people who had swarmed Kingsley at the funeral had.
"Thank you," Kingsley said.
"He was a decent man, and I… I remembered he was always kind to me," Sirius said.
Kingsley nodded.
"He always liked you," Kingsley said. "He said you had a fight in you."
"Until I suddenly became Britain's most wanted, probably," Sirius said. His voice wasn't bitter as he said it, nor was it sad. It was… well, it was just as empty as the look Kingsley had seen on Azkaban's prisoners and that he recognized on Sirius's face sometimes too.
He wanted to say something to that. He wanted to say that it wasn't fair, that it hadn't been fair, that it still wasn't fair. He wanted to say that he hadn't slept right since he'd found out that Sirius had been innocent this whole time. He wanted to say that he was struggling at work now, knowing what wrong the Auror Department had done and seeing how Sirius had come out of Azkaban. He wanted to say a lot of things but he didn't, because he'd never been the boldest one.
"I'm just worried," Sirius said. "That's all."
"For nothing," Kingsley repeated. They were sitting in his room playing Exploding Snap and eating Fizzing Whizzbees by the handful. The penthouse that his father kept in downtown London was spacious and luxurious, but sound traveled. There was no way that Dad didn't know that they were still awake at this time, but maybe he'd decided to let them be as another birthday gift to Kingsley.
"I'm telling you, it hasn't come up a single time since I've been at Hogwarts," Kingsley said. "I've never had to do it."
"In the stories, people always fall in love at school," Sirius said. "And I don't know anything about anything! I don't know about flirting, I don't know about kissing…"
"People figure it out I guess," Kingsley said. He didn't really care, even if he knew that some of the other Slytherin boys were the ones that the girls in his year went bonkers about.
"But what if you're figuring it out with your soulmate and it gives them a bad impression?" Sirius fretted. "What if you ruin it? With your soulmate?"
"Soulmates aren't real magic," Kingsley said. "That's a Muggle story."
"But what if?" Sirius asked. "I just feel like people should know how to kiss!"
"Well I don't know how to do it, either," Kingsley said, cheeks flushing.
Sirius hesitated for a second as he put down his next card. Because it matched Kingsley's, the card set itself on fire and crackled and popped like a campfire as it consumed itself—the ashes disappearing as the card reformed itself in their discard pile.
"Do you… would you want to figure it out?" Sirius asked. "You know, by practising?"
"Where's Sirius?" Kingsley asked as they looked around the table to see if everyone had arrived for the Order meeting.
"He won't be joining us," Remus said simply and diplomatically from his seat next to Tonks.
Kingsley frowned—Sirius hadn't missed a single meeting since the Order had reconvened, and Kingsley doubted he'd missed a single one before. His presence and dedication at each meeting was whole and unflinching; and since he couldn't leave the house much, Kingsley knew how much he looked forward to being in a group if nothing else. Then he remembered the date; September 2nd. The children had all gone back to Hogwarts yesterday—including Harry. Sirius was back to being alone again, in the house he'd hated for so long.
"It must be the commute," Snape commented coolly.
"Let it go," Kingsley said, the words tumbling out before he could anticipate the defensive tone they'd shroud themselves in.
Kingsley couldn't help either the surprise or the disappointment that flooded his stomach when the Sorting Hat announced its decision and the Gryffindor table on the other side of the room erupted in cheers. Sirius Black. A Gryffindor.
Kingsley fidgeted with the fork on the table before him. Some of the other students that they'd grown up with whispered to each other—when was the last time someone from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black hadn't been sorted to Slytherin? Kingsley didn't really care about the answer. He supposed that this just meant that maybe he wouldn't be spending as much time with Sirius at school as they'd hoped.
It had been a bad week, all around. The Prophet had been particularly rabid, the Aurors in the group had all been working overtime, Umbridge was on a rampage, and their patrols in Knockturn Alley had been busted. So Molly Weasley didn't skimp on the snacks by any means; there were home-made biscuits, freshly popped corn, juicy grapes, Muggle crisps that amounted to seasoned cardboard, and candy as far as the eye could see. It helped to lighten the mood as they passed the snacks from person to person.
Seeing Kingsley's hands empty, Sirius stretched out across the table to offer him a bowl of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Kingsley smiled as he recognized some of the shades of green and red.
"Fool me twice, Black," Kingsley said. Sirius burst out laughing at that. His laugh had always been loud and inviting, boisterous and warm, so Kingsley wasn't particularly surprised at all the heads it turned.
"What's the story, here?" Bill Weasley asked, chewing on a piece of red licorice and holding Fleur's hand under the table.
"Sirius once tried to poison me with Every Flavour Beans when we were children," Kingsley said matter-of-factly.
"Don't be so dramatic," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. He tossed his hair back over his shoulder, at which point Kingsley should have asked who between the two of them was truly the dramatic one.
"You knew each other as kids?" Tonks asked through a mouthful of biscuit.
"Most Sacred 28 kids did, with all the reunions and social events and balls they were always throwing for each other," Sirius said. He grinned for a second as his eyes flitted over Kingsley. "But Shacklebolt was always too good for me."
"That's hardly true," Kingsley said. "Sirius always had too high an opinion of me."
"Maybe," Sirius said. "Or a very accurate opinion of myself."
"I need you with me," his father had said before they left for Jessemia Ollivander's first birthday party. He was fixing Kingsley's tie for him, showing his son how to get that perfect crisp knot he'd always managed effortlessly.
"Why?" Kingsley had asked.
"Because I only have one pair of ears for dozens of mouths," his father said. He patted down Kingsley's tie once he was done and when the satisfaction of that task left his face, Kingsley saw how tired his father really looked. He hadn't travelled in ages; he'd been buried deep in the social fabric of the Sacred 28 and Voldemort was only growing stronger all the while. "And I need you… I need you to start thinking about where you stand, Kingsley—not because you know where you stand, but because of what you feel to be right. What you think of as right on your own, without anybody telling you."
Kingsley had nodded as his father had spoken.
"You know I don't agree with the Death Eaters, Da," he'd said right away. His father had kissed Kingsley's forehead at that.
"And I am proud to have raised you right," he'd said. "But now I need you to start thinking of how you'll position yourself in a world where not everyone agrees, as a Pureblooded man with a Pureblood family and relations."
"You're more attractive when dripping in honey," Kingsley remembered.
"Right you are," his father said—though he still looked exhausted. "But I think… I think honey may be better suited to catching flies than hearts. Stay with me, tonight, and watch what the others are saying. Think about how best they can be reached. Think about the brand of diplomacy you'll want to take on as the war brews."
"Voldemort's an insurgent with followers. You don't think there'll be a war," Kingsley said. "Do you?"
Kingsley's father patted his shoulder again.
"Perhaps we'll discuss that after the party," he said.
And they had. They'd discussed it over and over again. They'd started meeting each other's eyes across the room when something particularly unsavory or anti-Muggle was slipped into a speech or toast. Kingsley learned to stand tall and swirl his wine and epitomize the sharp and elegant etiquette the others admired. He started to imitate his father, to tailor his speech patterns so they'd mimic the voice of reason. He joined his father as a rational, calming presence when discussions got agitated. He learned to speak and dress and stand so that he was irreproachable, even if what he was saying didn't fit the Sacred 28's agenda.
But Sirius? Sirius painted his nails. Sirius pierced his nose before coming home for Christmas in his fourth year. Sirius rolled his eyes and made faces and slouched in his feat instead of making toasts. Sirius talked back and talked out of turn, or he shut up and refused to answer questions he didn't feel like answering. No matter how sharply Orion Black stared at him, Sirius kept popping the buttons of his dress robes at Nicolette Nott's Sweet Sixteen so everybody could see the Muggle band t-shirt he wore underneath.
Sirius was loud in a way Kingsley couldn't match even if he tried, and Kingsley was calm in a way Sirius couldn't fathom. Kingsley's propriety hid and legitimized his subversion, whereas Sirius had thrown his out the window. Sirius pushed harder than Kingsley dared while a single second of Kingsley's diplomacy and sweet-talking would have taken a lifetime of patience to manage on Sirius's end. They both agreed that what was happening to their family and their friends and their community, to their world really, was wrong. But they were on two different paths to the same destination, and it became harder and harder to wave at each other as they strayed from one another. But Kingsley was sure they were heading in the same direction, one step at a time. They'd meet when they got there, wouldn't they? Wouldn't they?
Sirius had made himself scarce after the Order meeting. Kingsley didn't want to chase him down, but he didn't want to go home without telling him his news and he didn't want to leave this kind of message. So he knocked on Sirius's bedroom door. Sirius muttered something from the other side, but Kingsley didn't hear it properly so he knocked again. The door swung open soon after.
"Remus, not—" Sirius' face froze once he registered it was Kingsley. He leaned against the doorframe protectively, pulling the door against himself. "What are you still doing here?"
"I had myself assigned to the Auror Department's search for you," Kingsley said.
"O… okay," Sirius said, frowning.
"I wanted you to know so you knew not to worry," Kingsley said. "I won't let them find you."
Sirius blinked and then leaned his head against the doorframe.
"Trying to look out for me, Shacklebolt?" he asked.
"Apparently," Kingsley said. "And I will."
"Apparently," Sirius said.
"Needed air?" Kingsley asked when he stepped onto the Greengrasses' balcony and saw Sirius already there, leaning against the railing.
"I was breathless before my father even made me put on this tie," Sirius said. The tie had since been pulled loose and it hung around his neck limply, the top four buttons of his dress shirt popped to show off a generous sliver of chest. "I'm surprised you did, though. You're always better at this stuff."
"It's still exhausting," Kingsley said, joining Sirius at the bannister. And it was getting more exhausting, as Voldemort's power and influence bubbled and rose. He couldn't look around the room without remembering how hard Bellatrix had made him laugh in the Slytherin Common Room once—before she became a Death Eater. Or without remembering how much Gerald Goyle had helped him in first year with his potions, when he'd been a kind and attentive Head Boy—before graduating and becoming a Death Eater. Everywhere Kingsley looked, it was people who had been lost or people who simply couldn't wait to launch themselves into the world of Death Eaters, like Lucius Malfoy or Regulus Black. Exhausting was one word for it.
That was about as explicitly as they could speak right now, but there was kinship in the ways they looked out at the night sky and the extensive gardens that the Greengrasses kept. There was comfort in the fact that both of them had needed to come up for air from the world in the ballroom. Some comfort, anyways. Just enough for them to be together as they watched the firebugs glow and listened to the cicadas sing, but not enough for the spectacle not to be very lonely.
He came to Grimmauld Place about fifteen minutes before Remus usually got around to cooking, paper bag tucked safely under his arm. He asked Kreacher where he could find Sirius and then found him in the kitchen, doing some transcription work for the Order that Kingsley was sure bored him out of his mind. He looked surprised to see Kingsley.
"The meeting's not for another two hours," Sirius said. His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken today thus far.
"Florian Fortescue's is closed for the winter," Kingsley said. "So I couldn't get you ice cream. But I think I remembered everything properly."
Sirius's eyes locked on the plastic bag and on the milkshake that Kingsley was holding.
"You didn't…" he said, eyes wide. Years of being an Animagus had sharpened his sense of smell, even as a human, so Kingsley knew that he was smelling exactly what was in the bag.
"Bacon cheeseburger," Kingsley said. "Green onions, lettuce, tomatoes, no pickles, ketchup, mustard, extra mayonnaise, and jalapeño peppers."
Sirius's eyes widened.
"You… you remembered."
"Best burgers in London," Kingsley said. That may or may not be true; but when the food at Eglantine Carrow's 90th birthday party had been absolutely and unedibly Victorian, Sirius had managed to sneak him and Kingsley out. The diner he'd brought them to wasn't too far, Sirius said that he often sat in a booth and drank coffee when he needed to run away from Grimmauld Square. Someone had painted that line in the diner's grimy windows: 'Best burgers in London.'
Sirius grinned as Kingsley put the food in front of him.
"There's fries in the bag," Kingsley asked. "And the milkshake is peanut butter and banana."
They'd never had enough Muggle money between the two of them to afford more than one milkshake, and then they'd had to compromise on flavours—chocolate for Kingsley, peanut butter and banana for Sirius.
"Thank you," Sirius said finally. "For remembering, for thinking of it, for… thank you."
"Don't mention it," Kingsley said.
"Will you eat with me?" Sirius asked as he sensed that Kingsley was about to turn.
"I didn't get myself anything," Kingsley said.
"I'll share my fries," Sirius said. "I'm not actually the epitome of evil, remember?"
Kingsley couldn't help but grin at that. He pulled himself a chair.
Sirius drifted to stand next to Kingsley with a flute of champagne in hand.
"I don't suppose your father has seen you drinking tonight, has he?" Kingsley asked him.
"No he has not," Sirius said cheerfully. "You aren't?"
"I have to get back to the Auror office in a few hours," Kingsley said. He probably could have had at least one glass, but he was still early enough in his Auror training to be properly afraid of Alastor Moody and unaccustomed to the graveyard shift.
"Right," Sirius said. One of the corners of his lips dipped up in a smile. "Well, it's a good thing I wasn't planning on waiting long before my toast. You'll be around for it."
"You plan on toasting the happy couple?" Kingsley asked, arching an eyebrow. A better question would be 'why are they allowing you to open your mouth at the happy couple's wedding'? It had been years since Andromeda Black had run away with Ted Tonks—a Muggleborn boy Kingsley vaguely remembered from his time at Hogwarts—but the wound was still fresh in the world of the Sacred 28 and of Purebloods as a whole. The whispering campaign had it that Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy hadn't magically fallen in love in the aftermath and grief of their loss, but that this wedding had been brewing as reparations ever since Andromeda had slipped away. Whatever the case, no expense had been spared today and the Blacks badly needed the day to go well if they wanted to uphold the family's dignity and reputation.
Which was why Kingsley gave Sirius a strange, strange look. Andromeda had always been his favourite cousin, after all…
"What are you planning to say?" Kingsley asked cautiously.
"Something right from the heart," Sirius said. He raised his flute of champagne to his mouth but then paused, and handed it over to Kingsley instead.
"Here, you might need this more than I do," Sirius said. "It might become a bit harder to get a beverage around here."
"What…"
Sirius winked. He always looked brighter and more himself when he was shrouded in mischief.
"The less you know, the better it would be for you," Sirius said. "If you want to keep fitting in here. Yeah?"
"Are you trying to tell me you don't think your toast will be appreciated?" Kingsley asked.
"I certainly hope not," Sirius said. "But don't tattle on me, Mr Auror."
"Not an Auror yet," Kingsley said. "And certainly not one on duty."
Sirius laughed.
"I suppose I won't be seeing you around anymore," Sirius said. Kingsley's stomach twisted.
"I'll miss you," Kingsley said. He lowered his voice. "It was nice to see somebody else here who wouldn't let themselves be changed. Who was going somewhere that wasn't…"
"I'll miss you too," Sirius said. "Hang in there."
"You as well," Kingsley said. "Don't let them get you down."
"They'd have to catch me first," Sirius said with a wicked grin.
That was when the champagne tower exploded in a flurry of glass, drink, and fireworks.
Kingsley was swallowing his laughter and struggling to maintain a serious face as the crowd burst in outrage and shock and scandaled delight and anger. Orion Black yelled his son's name in rage about three seconds before James Potter flew into the ballroom, grabbed his best friend, and flew away. It helped Kingsley wipe the smile off his face when he thought of how this might be the last time he'd see Sirius Black.
He'd only stopped by the house to leave Dumbledore a note about the mission and update the map of the grounds of Malfoy Manor they were annotating before he forgot the new section he'd been able to investigate that day. But he'd noticed the light on upstairs so he'd wandered up to the living room, and saw Sirius on the floor, propped up against the couch, with the empty bottle of Firewhisky leaning against his knee. He wasn't quite awake but he wasn't quite sleeping; his head was lolling against his shoulder and his eyebrows were furrowed unpleasantly.
"Sirius?" Kingsley asked.
Sirius groaned, responding to his name. How full had that bottle been when he'd started? It didn't matter.
"Sirius," Kingsley said. "Sirius, let's get you to bed."
"I don't want to go," Sirius muttered to himself.
"You'll be more comfortable," Kingsley promised.
"I—"
Sirius bent in two and threw up over a probably priceless carpet, then.
"Alright," Kingsley said, drawing his wand to vanish the mess.
He knelt by Sirius and moved the glass bottle safely out of the way. "We'll get some water in you. You'll feel sore and sicker in the morning if you stay here."
"I don't want to stay," Sirius muttered.
"I'm going to help you up," Kingsley said. Sirius muttered something instinctively, so Kingsley made the executive decision of sliding his hands under Sirius's arms and hauling him to his feet. Kingsley worked out with all the other Aurors almost daily but Sirius was entirely unhelpful, behaving essentially like a sack of bones. He dropped Sirius on the couch first, and Sirius melted as if to become one with the furniture.
"Not quite yet, Sirius," Kingsley said. "We're going to go upstairs okay?"
"I don't want to go," Sirius said. "Don't make me go."
Kingsley froze and his entire body stiffened as he wondered where Sirius was talking about. Then he decided it didn't matter.
"Okay," he said. "Okay Sirius; just lay down here and I'll go get you a blanket."
"I'm not going back," Sirius said.
"I know," Kingsley said. "I know."
Sirius hugged his arms around himself on the couch. Kingsley left to go fetch a blanket from the basket by the sofa, and when he turned back Sirius had his face buried in his hands.
"Sirius?" Kingsley asked. Sirius was shaking softly.
"I rather die than go back," Sirius said. "Kingsley, I rather die than go back, alright? I'm not doing it, I'm not being all alone again."
"Alright," Kingsley said, mouth dry. "Alright, I hear you."
He tucked the blanket around Sirius and sat on the floor by his side.
"Are you staying?" Sirius asked weakly.
"Until you want me to leave, yes," Kingsley said.
Kingsley had been with much more seasoned Aurors when he'd arrived at the scene, and even they were shocked as they took in the extent of the damage. The pavement, blasted beyond repair. A water pipe had been hit and was pissing water. There were bodies; Muggles who had been passing by, based on their clothes. The ground scorched by spells and curses, splattered with blood. Sirens in the distance, bystanders screaming. A pile of torn robes stained scarlet in the middle of it. And Sirius Black, standing in the chaos wand in hand.
"Auror Department," Rufus Scrimgeour barked as the Aurors fanned out to circle the scene. If Kingsley hadn't been so well trained, the shock of the moment would have paralyzed him. "Drop your wand!"
When Sirius looked up, he looked around him with wide eyes. He snarled once, looking around him as the Aurors formed a ring around him—others from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Department of Magical Catastrophes, and the Muggle Liaison Office waiting behind the frontlines. Waiting. Surrounding him.
Then something snapped in his grey eyes and Sirius burst out laughing—an unhinged, maniacal sound that came from deep inside Sirius and would haunt Kingsley. But when the Aurors closed in, Sirius raised his wand and stopped laughing—although he didn't lose that wildness in his eyes. He wasn't going down without a fight.
"Drop your wand!" Scrimgeour barked again.
Kingsley dropped down into the crater like the other Aurors and moved into position, wand raised and eyes locked on Sirius. He pushed through the churning in his stomach and kept his eyes on Sirius, reminding himself that he was an Auror—a trained dark wizard hunter, a professional protector, a specialized agent that could handle anything.
Even the gutting, heart-sinking realization that the world had changed his Sirius after all.
He swung by Grimmauld Place on the next full moon when Remus wasn't around. He found Sirius passed out on the living room couch, a line-up of empty bottles within arm's reach and an old record playing in the background.
Kingsley put the bottles away so they wouldn't get broken and left a glass of water on the closest side table. He fetched a blanket to lay over Sirius. His hands barely brushed the other man, but Sirius stirred as Kingsley tucked him in.
"You're alright," Kingsley said, kneeling down by Sirius's head. "Just setting you up for a night that's not quite as bad as it could be."
"It was you last time too, wasn't it?" Sirius asked.
"Yes," Kingsley admitted quietly.
"Why?" Sirius asked.
"To help," Kingsley said quietly.
"I don't need your help," Sirius said. "Why?"
"Because…" Kingsley swallowed hard and sat back onto the floor, dejected. He hated himself for it, but the fact that Sirius was intoxicated and may not remember any of this in the morning made it easier to explain. "Because you deserve it, after what you've been through. Because I spent so long thinking you were just another lost boy from our world and I don't know how to be relieved that you're not when you've paid so much for it."
"I'm not lost," Sirius said hazily. "I'm here."
His hand reached out blindly and Kingsley took it.
"I know," he said. "Sirius, I… I'm so sorry I didn't see it."
What did he mean? His innocence? His pain?
"Nobody did," Sirius mumbled.
"I know," Kingsley said. "I just don't think that that makes it better. Especially not because we spent so much time side by side, looking at the world and wanting to be different, and trying to… I could have been better to you. I could have been there; we weren't children anymore. I could have been there."
"You're here now," Sirius muttered. "Like when I blew up the champagne tower."
"Like when you blew up the champagne tower," Kingsley said, smiling against himself. "There was glass everywhere, remember?"
"Bellatrix was standing right by it. She got soaked," Sirius said. A smile touched his lips, even if his eyes had fluttered shut. "And the fireworks singed Lucius Malfoy's hair."
"I remember that," Kingsley said. "She was furious, and he was horrified."
"How'd it end?" Sirius asked. "I had to leave so quickly after, I never found out how that wedding ended."
"They whisked the bride and groom away and sent a team of house elves to clean up," Kingsley said. "They cut the cake and everything, but nobody spoke much. I think they called it a night soon after I left for work."
"Describe the cake," Sirius muttered.
"It was a savoy cake dusted in icing sugar, with layers of raspberry jam and custard," Kingsley said. "Unlike everything else in that room, it was dry."
Sirius laughed.
"You know what else I never found out about that day?" he asked.
"What?" Kingsley asked.
"If you laughed," Sirius said. He rolled over so that he faced Kingsley. "When I was planting those fireworks, I thought I might finally break you."
Kingsley grinned.
"You almost did," he admitted. "I only truly lost it when I got to the office a few hours later. I was laughing so hard, I nearly got written up for unprofessionalism."
Sirius smiled.
"I tried looking back to see, but James always flew like a maniac and I had to hold on tight," Sirius said. "I wanted to look back and see if I'd cracked that composure of yours. I wanted to see if you were as handsome when you smiled as I'd imagined you might be. And I was afraid it was the last time I'd ever see you. "
Kingsley hesitated.
"Well I'm here now," Kingsley said.
"And I was right. You are handsome when you laugh," Sirius said.
"I think of that champagne tower when I have to cast a Patronus," he admitted. It would be much easier to do that now that he would be able to use the full memory—that he could think of the twinkle of Sirius' eye and of his fingers wrapped around the flute of champagne, as well as the general hysteria and hilarity of the chaos he'd unleashed. He reached out and smoothed Sirius's hair back over his shoulder. "I laugh every time I think of it, too."
"Then you might be reaching your quota of charm, Shacklebolt. I'm going to kiss you when I'm sober, that way you'll see how much I mean it," Sirius swore. "I might be out of practise, though."
"Well, historically, I'm good at helping with that," Kingsley said.
"But I've got technique now, you know," Sirius said. "I think."
"I'm sure."
"You'll see," Sirius swore.
"Okay," Kingsley said. He took Sirius's hand and squeezed—not sure what to make of this, not sure if Sirius could be believed right now, and not sure if he wanted it to be true or not. "Okay."
Sirius seemed satisfied with that answer and when his eyes fluttered to a close that time, they stayed shut. His breathing relaxed as he went to sleep and Kingsley stayed right where he was, holding his hand, so that they wouldn't get lost again.
WC: 7,772