It was grey in Azakban.

It was always grey. The people were grey, the food was grey, the walls, the sky, even the ocean. It was all grey, and lifeless, and dull.

Except the Dementors. While the greyness was an absence of life, the Dementors were its direct opponents. Where Azkaban was dull, lifeless by nature, they sucked all life away intentionally. Maliciously.

Sirius tried to stop thinking along these lines, but it was...difficult. He didn't have much else to think about.

James and Lily. Harry. Moony. Pettigrew.

He could no longer remember the happy memories. The list of them were in his mind, as though he had read and memorized a list of facts for Potions. But he had no other memories of them.

1979. James and Lily's wedding.

July 31, 1980. Harry's birthday.

There were more, he knew. But they were intangible, distant, irrelevant.

He closed his eyes as a memory threatened to sweep over him. No.

He packed his school bag frantically, knowing he had only minutes to leave.

"OUT, GET OUT!" came the shrieks.

"You said I had more time," Sirius shouted back.

"And that time is gone," Walburga snapped.

"Funny," Sirius said, terrified but trying not to show it. "Your senility is getting worse, Mother - you've forgotten how to count to ten."

He grunted as something struck him - a Stinging Hex, from the feel of it.

"Get. Out." Walburga said.

Sirius took one last look at his room, at the Gryffindor pennants, the photo of the Marauders, the Muggle girls and the motorbikes, and caught another Stinging Hex across his ear for his trouble.

He turned and thundered down the stairs, kicking over the troll leg umbrella stand as he went. Another hex slashed him across the neck and he growled. He would not show her weakness.

He pulled his wand and cast any spells he could think of at all of the dark artifacts scattered through the house, dodging Walburga's hexes and spells as he went. He ran out of the house into the square and looked around.

He had nowhere to go.

Sirius sat upright and screamed.

There was nothing else to do, really. Why not follow the crowd, just this once?

James sat, slumped miserably in an armchair as he listened to Moony settling Harry for a nap. Harry had been fussy and agitated all day, refusing his toys and asking for Lily. And James...he hadn't known what to do, at all.

Moony had walked into a scene of mutual breakdown, and had deftly taken control of the situation. He'd taken Harry for a walk and set James the task of tidying the sitting room.

And now, James sat and stared at the wall.

Useless, his mind hissed at him. Horrible parent. You're nothing without Lily.

Moony emerged and James squashed those thoughts into a box to deal with later.

"How is he?" James asked desperately.

"He'll be fine," Remus said. He was smiling sadly. "We talked about how sometimes, when you can't see something, that doesn't mean it's not with you." His smile broadened. "I don't know how much he truly understood, but he seems to think that Lily is like the sunshine now, and death is like the clouds."

James did not laugh.

"I don't think I can do this, Moony," he said. "I - Merlin, how am I going to raise him? He survived Voldemort, and I don't know how I can teach him, or anything. Maybe I should let the Ministry take him, they'll put him in with a good family, and -"

"James, would you listen to yourself?" Remus demanded. "Merlin, that's just - think of the kind of person the Ministry would place Harry with, should you decide you're an unfit parent. They'll want nothing but the best for the Boy-Who-Lived, so into a pureblooded family he'll go; we're talking about Malfoy, Nott, Walburga Black of all people - do you really want your son to be raised in that sort of environment?" He stared James down.

"No," James said quietly. "He could go live with Lily's sister..."

"The magic-hating cow? Brilliant plan, Prongs," Remus said.

"What about -"

"James," Remus said firmly. The use of his first name shocked James into silence. It had been years since the Marauders had used one another's given names. "Don't do this."

"I don't see you offering any bright ideas," James snapped.

"Here's an idea for you, then," Remus said. "We keep doing what we're doing. We give him a home where he's loved, and we answer his questions the best we can, and we make sure he's ready for Hogwarts when the time comes." He smiled, a little. "It's all we can do, really."

"You weren't so keen on this idea a couple of weeks ago."

Remus shrugged. "You convinced me. So now I'm convincing you."

James rubbed his hands over his face, nearly dislodging his glasses, and nodded. "You're right, Moony. I'm just scared, I guess."

Remus tilted his head. "I can't see why," he said. "You only had to face the most feared wizard of our time four times, all of which you survived and were not supposed to. You've got a one-year-old who has literally been marked by the same evil wizard. No one knows where that dark wizard has gone, or whether he'll be back, and how soon. You've only had to face betrayal and loss and you're still twenty-one years old."

James swatted at his friend. "You talk like you're Dumbledore's age," he grumbled. "You've had shit you've been up against too."

"Oh, I'm not denying it, or trying to play 'who's got it worse'," Remus said. "I'm just saying that you need to cut yourself some slack, and just be a dad. You do remember how to do that, yeah?"

"Shut it, Moony," James said.

Remus grinned. "How's the sitter search going?" he asked.

James shrugged. "Not great," he admitted. "I'm just too busy to really look for someone. And I still need to pass my recertification exams to get back into active duty." He stared at Remus, consideringly. "Are you still looking for a job?"

It was a moment before the question seemed to register. "Oh, you can't be serious," he said, laughing. "You want me as Harry's nanny?"

"Why not?" James asked. "Harry knows you, he likes you, I know you and we're best mates - it's a perfect situation."

Remus paused. "He's a good boy," he admitted.

"Of course he is," James said. "You'd be helping me out a great deal," he said quietly.

Remus smiled halfheartedly. "I'll think about it," he said finally. "I wouldn't do this for nothing though," he warned. "I have a book addiction I must feed."

"Go to the library, then," James suggested. "You spent most of our school days there anyway, you'll be right at home.

He dodged Moony's retaliatory jinx.

Oof. Poor Sirius.

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