(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.)
"So," Sirius said, thrusting his hands into his pockets, "How are you this lovely morning?"
It had been a random morning that Sirius had called, wanting to treat him to breakfast after mass. James had been under the impression that Lily would be joining them, but sadly she had left him and his old friend alone for the afternoon to go "baby shopping" with Emmeline and Alice.
Well, let them shop.
The one thing in his life that was supposed to be good, the one thing that had kept him going these past nine months, was now a curse. It wasn't that he hated the baby, or that he resented having the baby on its way . . . but now all of the joy of having a new child seemed to have disappeared.
And Frank, standing there, pretending that he knew his father better than his own son. The adacity of that man to pawn himself off as God, as if he knew what was right and what was wrong. How many times had James's mother tucked Frank in at night? How many conversations had Frank had with Sprite? How many times did Frank see Wendy alive and well?
None.
He did not have the authority to judge his father's choices. He hadn't cared about him, nor wanted to care.
"I was thinking we could go to the Leaky Cauldron," Sirius offered, "My treat."
James shrugged, "Whatever."
"I thought maybe you'd like going back there," he said, trying to sound happy, "You know, bring back the old times, put things in perspective . . ."
"Whatever," James repeated, not listening to a word that his friend was saying.
Sirius sighed, tussled his hair, and then dug his hands farther into his pockets. The old shell was back, and there was nothing that he could do to snap James out of it. He still remembered the conversation that he had had with Lily.
"Just talk to him," she had said, "Just listen to what he has to say. He's been through a lot lately, and he won't talk to me."
Well, he wondered why. She only hadn't told him about someone breaking into their house on Voldemort's orders, holding her at wandpoint. That small detail may have something to do with it.
"So," Sirius started again, "I was looking through some old school junk that I collected over the years."
"Yeah," James said, half interested.
"Yeah," Sirius said, "A bunch of old notes and plans that we wrote out. But I lost our contract. You know, the one that we'd keep our 'Great Power' a secret and all?"
"Yeah," James said, in a monotone voice.
"Don't know what happened to it," Sirius sighed, "Must have left it at Grimmauld Place."
"Yeah," James said, not even hearing the strained tone in Sirius's words. It was hard for Sirius to talk about that hell hole that he had called home for sixteen years. He hadn't mentioned that place since he moved out, and he had avoided mentioning those people since Alphard's will reading.
"You know," Sirius said, walking down the street, away from the church and to where they would find the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron once again, "We've come a long ways since first year. Think about it. We've changed the world."
James didn't answer as they stepped onto the curb. Only a few more blocks to go.
"But through all that I've learned, James," Sirius continued, even if James wasn't listening to a word that he was saying, "I've found out that family is the most important thing. I mean, I'd do anything for you guys . . . you know, my real family. And I know that you'd do the same for your family."
James stopped, as they faced the next intersection. It was a familiar street with a familiar name. One that had belonged to an older white house, that had once housed a picture perfect family.
James's face grew the color of white chalk as Sirius read the name of the street, and then blinked. It was the old street on which the Potters used to live. He couldn't believe that he hadn't recognized it.
"James . . ."
"You know what's haunted me the most these two years, Sirius?" James said, staring at the sign in which the name was engraved. His blood froze, and he looked so much older. Much more older than nineteen, soon to be twenty.
"What?" Sirius asked, knowing very well what he was referring to.
The sun beat down upon the two men as their eyes became glued to the sign, and then slowly moved down the street to rest upon the familiar white house. It was now occupied by another family. A Muggle car was parked outside of the garage door, shined and polished and beaming in the noonday sun. Another family lived there now. James could never go back.
"Through everything that I've seen," James said, choking, "Through everything that we've been through . . . the one thing that I still have nightmares about is my father standing there, and how his face looked when I didn't sign the contract. That's the one thing that I wish I could take back. Because I did sign. Because I'm not a coward. I've fought this war for two years now. Two years, Sirius!"
"So this all comes down to pride, huh?" Sirius sighed, looking at his friend wearily, "This all comes down to you and what your dad would think of you?"
James didn't answer.
"That's why you're not gonna go into hiding, isn't it?"
James turned away from Sirius to look in the other direction, and crossed his arms in front of him. Sirius scratched his head, and then made a face. He hated this. Why did he always have to be the one in this situation? Remus was a lot better at this sort of stuff. But Remus wasn't here. It was up to him now.
"James, look," he started, and took a breath of warm summer air, "I didn't know your dad too well, but I know that if he had seen what you've done since you've joined the Order, that he'd understand. He'd understand that you have a family to save, and he'd respect that. You have a baby, James . . . and that baby's supposed to be the only thing that can stop Voldemort. If you don't go into hiding for you or Lily, just go into hiding for the sake of keeping our only hope alive."
James didn't answer still, and Sirius gave up, crossing the street. He knew that James would follow him. And he was right. He knew him all too well.
"Do you think he made the right decision, Padfoot?" James asked, hopping onto the next curb behind his friend.
"Who?"
"My dad," James said quietly, "Do you think he did the right thing?"
Sirius shrugged, and then said truthfully, "Hell, I'm not God. I can't make judgement calls. I know that your dad wasn't stupid. I know that he probably had his reasons. Just . . . you have different reasons. Don't get caught up in what he decided, all right?"
James nodded, and then put an arm lovingly around Sirius, "Thanks, mate," he said quietly, and Sirius returned the gesture.
"Any time," he said, and the boys continued walking down the street, away from the old white house, and away from the nightmares that had scarred both of them.
"So," Sirius said, thrusting his hands into his pockets, "How are you this lovely morning?"
It had been a random morning that Sirius had called, wanting to treat him to breakfast after mass. James had been under the impression that Lily would be joining them, but sadly she had left him and his old friend alone for the afternoon to go "baby shopping" with Emmeline and Alice.
Well, let them shop.
The one thing in his life that was supposed to be good, the one thing that had kept him going these past nine months, was now a curse. It wasn't that he hated the baby, or that he resented having the baby on its way . . . but now all of the joy of having a new child seemed to have disappeared.
And Frank, standing there, pretending that he knew his father better than his own son. The adacity of that man to pawn himself off as God, as if he knew what was right and what was wrong. How many times had James's mother tucked Frank in at night? How many conversations had Frank had with Sprite? How many times did Frank see Wendy alive and well?
None.
He did not have the authority to judge his father's choices. He hadn't cared about him, nor wanted to care.
"I was thinking we could go to the Leaky Cauldron," Sirius offered, "My treat."
James shrugged, "Whatever."
"I thought maybe you'd like going back there," he said, trying to sound happy, "You know, bring back the old times, put things in perspective . . ."
"Whatever," James repeated, not listening to a word that his friend was saying.
Sirius sighed, tussled his hair, and then dug his hands farther into his pockets. The old shell was back, and there was nothing that he could do to snap James out of it. He still remembered the conversation that he had had with Lily.
"Just talk to him," she had said, "Just listen to what he has to say. He's been through a lot lately, and he won't talk to me."
Well, he wondered why. She only hadn't told him about someone breaking into their house on Voldemort's orders, holding her at wandpoint. That small detail may have something to do with it.
"So," Sirius started again, "I was looking through some old school junk that I collected over the years."
"Yeah," James said, half interested.
"Yeah," Sirius said, "A bunch of old notes and plans that we wrote out. But I lost our contract. You know, the one that we'd keep our 'Great Power' a secret and all?"
"Yeah," James said, in a monotone voice.
"Don't know what happened to it," Sirius sighed, "Must have left it at Grimmauld Place."
"Yeah," James said, not even hearing the strained tone in Sirius's words. It was hard for Sirius to talk about that hell hole that he had called home for sixteen years. He hadn't mentioned that place since he moved out, and he had avoided mentioning those people since Alphard's will reading.
"You know," Sirius said, walking down the street, away from the church and to where they would find the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron once again, "We've come a long ways since first year. Think about it. We've changed the world."
James didn't answer as they stepped onto the curb. Only a few more blocks to go.
"But through all that I've learned, James," Sirius continued, even if James wasn't listening to a word that he was saying, "I've found out that family is the most important thing. I mean, I'd do anything for you guys . . . you know, my real family. And I know that you'd do the same for your family."
James stopped, as they faced the next intersection. It was a familiar street with a familiar name. One that had belonged to an older white house, that had once housed a picture perfect family.
James's face grew the color of white chalk as Sirius read the name of the street, and then blinked. It was the old street on which the Potters used to live. He couldn't believe that he hadn't recognized it.
"James . . ."
"You know what's haunted me the most these two years, Sirius?" James said, staring at the sign in which the name was engraved. His blood froze, and he looked so much older. Much more older than nineteen, soon to be twenty.
"What?" Sirius asked, knowing very well what he was referring to.
The sun beat down upon the two men as their eyes became glued to the sign, and then slowly moved down the street to rest upon the familiar white house. It was now occupied by another family. A Muggle car was parked outside of the garage door, shined and polished and beaming in the noonday sun. Another family lived there now. James could never go back.
"Through everything that I've seen," James said, choking, "Through everything that we've been through . . . the one thing that I still have nightmares about is my father standing there, and how his face looked when I didn't sign the contract. That's the one thing that I wish I could take back. Because I did sign. Because I'm not a coward. I've fought this war for two years now. Two years, Sirius!"
"So this all comes down to pride, huh?" Sirius sighed, looking at his friend wearily, "This all comes down to you and what your dad would think of you?"
James didn't answer.
"That's why you're not gonna go into hiding, isn't it?"
James turned away from Sirius to look in the other direction, and crossed his arms in front of him. Sirius scratched his head, and then made a face. He hated this. Why did he always have to be the one in this situation? Remus was a lot better at this sort of stuff. But Remus wasn't here. It was up to him now.
"James, look," he started, and took a breath of warm summer air, "I didn't know your dad too well, but I know that if he had seen what you've done since you've joined the Order, that he'd understand. He'd understand that you have a family to save, and he'd respect that. You have a baby, James . . . and that baby's supposed to be the only thing that can stop Voldemort. If you don't go into hiding for you or Lily, just go into hiding for the sake of keeping our only hope alive."
James didn't answer still, and Sirius gave up, crossing the street. He knew that James would follow him. And he was right. He knew him all too well.
"Do you think he made the right decision, Padfoot?" James asked, hopping onto the next curb behind his friend.
"Who?"
"My dad," James said quietly, "Do you think he did the right thing?"
Sirius shrugged, and then said truthfully, "Hell, I'm not God. I can't make judgement calls. I know that your dad wasn't stupid. I know that he probably had his reasons. Just . . . you have different reasons. Don't get caught up in what he decided, all right?"
James nodded, and then put an arm lovingly around Sirius, "Thanks, mate," he said quietly, and Sirius returned the gesture.
"Any time," he said, and the boys continued walking down the street, away from the old white house, and away from the nightmares that had scarred both of them.