"Stupid fucking elf…where's he got to now.." he muttered under his breath as he trudged up the rickety ladder that lead to the attic. Kreacher had taken to hiding up there, no doubt to sulk out of earshot of Sirius, about the 'blood traitors' and 'vermin' who had taken up residence in the house of his long dead Mistress.
Just as Kreacher's muffled croaks became audible through the splintered trapdoor, Remus' voice came suddenly from the landing below, "Sirius? Sirius! It's Harry…in the kitchen, he wants to talk"
Harry? His stomach lurched. He was at Hogwarts and it was the middle of the day…Something must be wrong. He half stumbled on to the landing where Remus stood waiting, both of them now darting down the stairs to the kitchen.
His Godson was looking anxiously out at them from the kitchens fireplace. "What is it?" said Sirius urgently, both of them knelt so that they were level with Harry "Are you all right? Do you need help?"
"No," said Harry quickly, "it's nothing like that… I just wanted to talk… about my dad."
This was not at all what he was expecting, and judging by the look Remus cast him, he'd had the same thought. Harry continued impatiently, explaining what he had seen in the Pensieve during his Occlumency lesson with Snape. They listened and with a painful pang of nostalgia, Sirius realised, he vaguely remembered this particular incident.
When Harry had finished, a moment of silence ensued. Sirius, taken aback by the onslaught of nostalgia from the memory and what it did to his stomach was at something of a loss, unable to string together a coherent response, so it Remus who spoke, quietly, "I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen -"
"I'm fifteen!" Retorted Harry. The James-esque edge in the tone of his voice did nothing to appease the weight that now sat on Sirius' chest. He cleared his throat and began placatingly… "Look Harry, James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can't you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be - he was popular, he was good at Quidditch - good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James - whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry - always hated the Dark Arts."
"Yeah," said Harry, "but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because - well, just because you said you were bored…"
"I'm not proud of it," he blurted quickly, in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone, wanting desperately to reassure him.
Remus shot him a sideways glance, silently cautioning him, before saying, "Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away -"
"If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean," he added, eliciting a smile from Remus.
"He kept messing up his hair," said Harry torturously, as if it was as horrible an act as killing kittens.
They laughed now, both he and Remus. "I'd forgotten he used to do that," said Sirius, a wistful affection flooded through him, and he wondered silently what else he'd forgotten.
"Was he playing with the Snitch?" Remus asked, excited nostalgia now evident in his voice also.
"Yeah," said Harry, appearing not to share their sentiments, he continued, "Well… I thought he was a bit of an idiot."
That much was obvious, they all were. "Of course he was a bit of an idiot!" He said "we were all idiots! Well - not Moony so much,"
Remus shook his head and exhaled, the way he often did when chastising himself, "Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape?" he said. "Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"
"Yeah, well," said Sirius, "you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes… that was something…"
"And," Harry persisted "he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!"
Lily , he thought, with another painful pang.
"Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around, he couldn't stop himself showing off whenever he got near her."
"How come she married him?" Harry asked, now looking positively distraught. "She hated him!"
He wanted to laugh, how could he explain to Harry, at fifteen, about sexual tension and how these things worked…but he thought better of it. This was important. This was the first time Harry had seen James and Lily, his parents, who's love had bought him into this world, alive in colour through the eyes of someone with almost zero insight from that point; and he so was utterly miserable , his memory of them tarnished without ever having known them.
If only he could take Harry into the Pensieve with him , if only he could show him James and Lily through his memories. Harry's eye's darted nervously between Sirius and Remus, and in them, Sirius saw the same bright green staring lovingly at James as he talked about something he was passionate about. He saw those same eyes crinkle at the corners as she laughed in spite of herself at his god-awful jokes, before shaking her head in that exasperated way. He saw them holding hands, their arms linked, always touching. He saw them walking through the portrait hole hand in hand, saw them sprawled out next to one another over the sofa, asleep. He saw the looks they'd shoot each other across a classroom, across the great hall. He saw Lily in James' jumper, waving from the quidditch stands. He saw them sharing a kiss at breakfast, James flipping them off as they wholf-whistled and banged on the tables. He heard James telling him 'I'm going to marry her', saw his eyes welling up as he watched Lily walk towards him.
He wanted Harry to see how Lily had beamed down at him, only a baby, before comically rolling her eyes and telling them with feigned annoyance "Already the spitting image of his dad". He wanted to read Harry letter upon letter from Lily, fretting and worrying about James, about how she knew how frustrated he was shut up at home. He wanted to tell Harry that his father would have stayed shut up in that house for the rest of his life if it meant his family was safe, that he did exactly that.
He wanted to tell Harry about James' loyalty, his integrity, and courage, how fiercely he defended his friends, his obscene generosity, just how very much he despised anything even remotely dark, because for all his flaws he was good, he was innately good. He wanted Harry to know all of this, but it was hardly the time, it was impossible to explain in this moment and it had just occurred to him that he didn't even know which fireplace Harry was talking to them from, wether it was safe…
He would tell Harry, he would show him everything at the proper moment. We've got time , he thought, before simply telling his Godson -
"Nah, she didn't".