Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Patronus
'All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me…and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me.'
I remember exactly what I told Harry. I wasn't lying to him. That much was true; Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. But I suppose being evasive is as good as lying, meaning that on the night we finally revealed the truth to Harry, I also lied to him.
It wasn't the first lie I've ever told. Even when I don't meet anyone to whom I can tell a lie, I still manage to lie to myself at least once a day. For as long as I can remember, my mother would tell me that someday things wouldn't be like this, that someday the world would look at me and see man rather than monster. I don't know exactly when I stopped believing her, but I know I was at Hogwarts by then, because I am sure of the date when I realised that I no longer put any stock into her optimism. That was towards the end of my fifth year, when I received my career advice.
Voldemort was already strong then, and we, the Marauders, had always been united against him, or so we thought. None of us were sure exactly what we wanted to do with our lives, but given the potent presence of Dark magic, we had all thought at least once about being Aurors, or rather James, Sirius and I had done. We weren't quite conscious, I don't think, that Peter never said he wanted to be an Auror, preferring to smile and nod as the three of us did the talking. In hindsight it is obvious that we should have paid more attention to this fact, and judging by the ramifications I can see it is a good thing that none of us ever actually became Aurors. An Auror should see everything, and clearly we were blind.
But what I mean to say by relating this is that I was considering being an Auror when Professor McGonagall called me to her office for career advice. She was already frowning; she looked more nervous than I had ever seen her, and as I was already suspicious that my habit of turning into a coldblooded killer once a month might be a problem, I had a sinking feeling that I was in trouble. Even so, I wasn't anywhere close to being prepared for the blow to fall. She sighed and asked me what career, if any, I had it in mind to pursue. I told her I wasn't sure, but among other things I had thought of being an Auror. At that, her eyes filled with sorrow as she looked at me and told me that while I was a perfectly able student in every subject necessary to become an Auror, it was not something I could do because the Ministry didn't employ werewolves. Her lips trembled, and I felt terribly sorry for her, for having to tell me that. I quickly learned that not only were high profile jobs out of the question, there was very little I could do at all. I thanked her for her time and skived off my next class in favour of returning to Gryffindor Tower to cry for the first time in years. It was then that I knew, if there had been any doubt before, that my mother was wrong.
Sirius was the one who found me. He didn't even ask what was troubling me; judging from his background, I think he'd been expecting this. I had been lying face-down on my pillow. He sat down next to me and started to rub my back, assuring me that everything would be okay, even though he knew I knew it wouldn't. He knew that I needed to hear this beautiful lie one last time, even though he couldn't have known how often I'd heard it before.
Sirius continued to stroke my back until I finally found the strength to roll over and look up at him. I had known it was him all along, despite not having seen him. I just stared at him. Besides my parents, I had never had anyone comfort me before, and in my shock I simply whispered, 'Thanks.'
He didn't answer, and we were able to laugh about it many years later. There was nothing amusing about it in the moment, though. I sat up to look him straight in the eye, and he put his arms around me. He held me like that for an indefinite amount of time, but I can say that despite how heartbroken and angry I was, on some level I was content as I sobbed into his shoulder. I pulled him closer, and that was when he kissed me on the tear-stained cheek.
He drew back uncertainly. I looked at him and I could tell that he hadn't meant to do it, that he had not come to me intending anything of the kind, but that it felt right to him. I wanted to tell him that I had never imagined it either, but that it felt right to me as well. I didn't have the words, so I simply smiled at him. He knew what I meant.
Sirius kissed my cheek again and again, attempting to kiss away my tears. It sounds silly now even to me, but it felt natural then, and before I knew it I was kissing him, too. And then-we both practically missed it-our lips touched.
That was how it started. Our relationship grew and evolved over the years, and before long, I had fallen in love with Sirius Black. I knew without asking that he loved me. This meant that I was very happy, but it also meant that I was now doubly unwanted in the eyes of the wizarding world.
James found out eventually, and so, by extension, did Lily. They were slightly thrown off at first, chiefly because, given that Lily had finally warmed up to James by then, this had been going on for over a year and a half and we hadn't said anything. But James accepted us for what we were, saying that we would always be his best friends, his fellow Marauders. Lily, being Muggle-born and having borne her own share of discrimination, merely wished us luck. We considered our relationship common knowledge now that our best friends knew, without realising that we never said anything to Peter. We always thought he knew, but now that I think about it, Voldemort probably found out before he did.
To this day I cannot describe the heartbreak I endured on that fateful Hallowe'en. It had been years since I stopped believing my mother's well-intentioned lies. From Sirius' arrest forwards, I steadfastly lied to myself twice daily, telling my reflection in the mirror, both when I awoke without him in the morning and when I went to bed without him at night, that my beloved Padfoot was innocent. Of course, it turned out to be a true lie, but I didn't know it then.
That is the real, overriding reason why I couldn't bring myself to tell Albus Dumbledore that Sirius, James and Peter had become Animagi for me. I was far too devoted to broken dream to let common sense have its way. This is true irony, because as a teacher I prided myself on levelheaded patience. It was that that enabled me to be looked upon as a well-spoken individual, and it was that that enabled me to teach Harry, a then-thirteen-year-old wizard, the Patronus Charm. Well, that and Harry's own incredible persistence and talent. I cannot take credit for his achievements. But it became clear to me that year that I could solve seemingly anything except my own life, which was, and once again is, in shambles.
There is another thing I said that night, directed at Peter but for Harry's benefit, that was a lie. The difference here was that this lie wasn't even true in its own right. Peter, in a desperate plea for my help, suggested that Sirius would have told me if they had really changed the plan. I remember what I said in response: 'Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter.'
Of course Sirius never thought I was the spy. I am amazed that I came up with a reply so quickly, and I am doubly amazed it was convincing. Yes, Sirius didn't tell me, and I know perfectly well why. Padfoot loved me. Perhaps it was simply his nature, or perhaps it was the singular way in which we discovered our passion for each other, but he was always protective of me, to the point of keeping secrets from me. He knew that because of my condition, I would fall under suspicion first, and he did not want to see me a victim of Legilimency or Veritaserum.
Sirius was my protector and my love. Now that I have lost him again, I sit in an armchair at Grimmauld Place, pretending to read the Daily Prophet as I ponder my lonely fate. Then, on sudden inspiration, I wave my wand, summon the memory of our first kiss and say what has become my favourite spell.
'Expecto Patronum!'
A giant, bearlike silver dog leaps out my wand. The fire is dying, but I do not feel cold. 'Thanks,' I whisper.
FINIS