(Note from the author: These are not my characters, my world, or my situations. They all belong to J. K. Rowling, and are protected by copyrights.)

A knock came at the door, and Sirius yawned. He had been sleeping, trying not to think about what had happened the night before. Every time he woke up, he saw Marlene's body in front of his eyes. That's why he wanted to keep them closed as long as he possibly could.
Not to mention that he had had another dream about Remus. Remus was holding his wand out to that Sampson man. And he was saying those fatal words, that man had fallen.
"The werewolf killed Sampson!" the voice had rang.
The werewolf.
The knock came again, and Sirius groaned. He couldn't go out right then. He was in no mood to answer the door. He knew it would be one of the Order members, coming to tell him about the arrangements of Marlene. Or another Ministry official coming to ask him exactly what happened.
He had seen Remus's eyes. Remus hadn't wanted to talk to him last night.
But then again, Remus hadn't talked to anyone for a while.
The person knocked again.
God.
"Shut up," he groaned, and rolled over in his bed.
"Sirius, are you in there?"
It was James.
"What!" Sirius moaned, coming to stare at the ceiling on his back. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to get up.
"It's Sunday, Sirius," James's voice came through the door, "Get up!"
"I know perfectly well what day it is!" Sirius shouted, and then covered his head with his pillow.
The spell "Alohomora" was whispered from behind the locked door, and soon James's footsteps could be heard coming through the kitchen and to where Sirius lay, sprawled out on the bed.
"You have mass!" James said, "And it starts in twenty minutes! Get dressed!"
"Mass?" Sirius yawned, "Why is that important?"
"You have to go!" James said, "The priest is expecting you! Now put this on," he said, taking out Sirius's pinstriped robe out of his closet and flinging it at him, "This will look nice enough. And no biker boots."
"No biker . . . wait, James, I'm not . . ."
"Oh, yes, you are," James said, taking Sirius's arm and pulling. His face skidded across his pillow, and finally his torso fell off of the bed, headfirst, legs following.
Sirius rubbed his head, but still refused to stand.
"Padfoot," James said, now pleading, "Look, you have less than a half an hour to get dressed, drive to the church, and get seated. You have to wake up."
"It's Sunday," Sirius muttered.
James kicked him, and Sirius gave out a laugh, "What the hell was that for?"
"For being you," James said, and took the robe off of the bed, and threw it at him, "Now put that on. Now."
Sirius groaned, sat up, and took the wrinkled pinstriped suit and draped it over his head. He yawned, and stretched his arms.
"You really are a violent person, I hope you know that," Sirius said, giving a small grin from behind his messy hair.
"Get up," James demanded, "Lily's waiting outside. We're going out to eat after mass."
"You're coming with me?" Sirius said, standing up, "Oh, well then . . . I can show you what sort of torture devices they have lurking in there."
James sighed, shook his head, and pushed Sirius out of the room, "Get going."

The mass was boring. Sirius felt himself yawning, feeling very out of place. He stood when James and Lily stood, prentended to sing when they pretended to sing (except Lily actually sung, since her voice was very beautiful and rich), and sat when they sat. He swore that he was going to die.
After the mass, Father Such-and-Such from the church came to speak with him and James and Lily. He had a small little white square on his neck, and Sirius kept staring at it with the utmost fascination. He had seen them before, since Mrs. Potter had dragged him to church when he was younger. But he was a lost cause.
"And our young friend here will be joining our church very soon," Father Such-and-Such said, patting Sirius on the back with one of his knarly hands. A shiver crawled down his spine, and he gave a weak smile as James led him out of the church and back onto the street.
"Ah, and now to eat," Sirius said, rubbing his hands together, "Where're we going?"

The Leaky Cauldron was still very musty in the morning, even if the tobacco smokers and the liquor drinkers hadn't arrived for their daily ritual. Tom was dressed in his very Sunday best, and quickly opened up the shop for the three to enter and order a round of pancakes and tea.
"Ah, now this is what I call a Sunday morning," Sirius commented, sitting down at their usual table in the corner, "We can speak in English, keep seated, and know what the hell we're doing."
Lily took James's hand, and Sirius didn't flinch. He had stopped flinching long ago. Lily's robes were very tight around her stomach, and Sirius could see that the child was growing. Soon it would come. Harry. His name was Harry.
"We just wanted to get everything figured out with you this morning," James said, "You know, with Harry and you being his godfather. We wanted to make sure that you knew what you were getting into."
"I don't care what I'm getting into," Sirius said, "If I can survive baptism, I can survive anything."
"It means that you would be a father, Sirius," Lily said, "If we somehow don't make it through this war, and you do . . . it means that you would have a son."
"All right," Sirius said, nodding, "I know. But that's not going to happen."
"There's a good chance that it could," James said truthfully, "You heard what Moody said to Frank. We're all going to come out of this with some sort of scar. I mean, we already have some."
"I'm perfectly fine," Sirius said.
"None of us are perfectly fine," James said, looking him square in the eyes. He was picking at the slivers on the table again, "Peter's getting scared of his own shadow, Remus is quieter than usual, and you . . ."
"What about me?" Sirius asked slowly, yet still demanding. James shrugged, and then looked back at the table. He began to pick at a sliver in the tabletop.
"The main thing is that we want to make sure that you know what you're doing," Lily said, "You'll be a father," she said a little louder.
"I know," Sirius said, and Lily's left eye twitched slightly. It was like she half-expected him to say no.
"We want him to be raised in our religion," James said.
"No, you don't say," Sirius said.
"Please take this seriously, Padfoot," James said, looking at him, and Lily's eye twitched faster.
"Let's just make up a scenario," James continued, "Let's just say that we go out like last night, and I get killed. It could have easily been me, Sirius."
"Don't say that," Sirius said quieter, darker.
"But it could have," James said, "Now listen. If that happened, I'd want you to move in with Lily, and take care of her and Harry. I would hope that you could love them like your own wife and son. You have to promise me this, Sirius. I can't keep going out there, sticking my neck out, and knowing that if something happens, my family is going to be abandoned."
"They won't be abandoned," Sirius's face had gone dark, and very determined. Lily studied him carefully. James had been right about him being responsible. She would have never guessed that this man, who still had the emotional maturity of an eleven-year-old and no morals that she was aware of . . . that that man could sit there, in front of them, and swear off his life for a baby he hadn't even seen yet. Sirius would do anything for James.
All of a sudden, her face became bright, and all doubt floated away. This truly was the right man to take care of her son.
"And if we both are unable to take care of Harry," James said, as Sirius gave Lily a glance out of the corner of his eye, and Lily quickly looked away, "Then you'd have to move into our house, and have complete access to a bank account in my name. You would only be able to use this money for Harry or for Harry's well being. We would like you to settle down with a wife, if there was any possibility, but I can't dictate your life to you. But that's what we would want."
"Any preferences on who the wife would be?" Sirius laughed, smiling. James grinned, and shrugged.
"Okay, moving on," James said, "Then we want him to go to Hogwarts. All right? Hogwarts. No where else."
"Like I would think of putting him somewhere else," Sirius said.
"And then you have to teach him to play Quidditch," James plowed on, "I don't care what position he plays, just as long as he plays Quidditch."
"Can do," Sirius said, as the waitress handed them their pancakes. James nodded, and said as soon as the waitress had left, "I want him to be happy."
"And he will be," Sirius said, very seriously, "But as I said, it's not going to happen. It won't. We made a pact, remember?"
"And this is another pact," James said, "You have to make it to me. You'll protect my son. You'll let him be happy. You'll treat him like you'd treat me."
Sirius, hesitating, nodded, and then picked up his fork, "I will."
"You swear on your grave?" James asked.
Sirius's face grew pale at the word "grave," but he nodded, and then started to dig into his pancakes, "Yes. I swear."
Lily nodded to herself, and reached over the table to touch Sirius's hand. Her skin was so soft. Sirius's was darker, rougher . . .
"Thank you," she said quietly, and Sirius nodded slowly.
"You're welcome."