13. Black Sabbath

'Oh. Bloody. Hell,' cursed Ron, peeling his face from the smeary window of the Knight Bus, as they lurched towards London. 'How long 'til we get our Apparition tests?'

'I'm not sure if you two Apparating is a good idea,' said Hermione reprovingly, frowning at Harry and Ron. 'You'll just be Apparating all over the house like Fred and George, landing on top of people.'

Ron smirked as he considered the possibilities.

Harry failed to manage a smile. He didn't want to be on the Knight Bus, terrorising letter boxes and speeding towards 12 Grimmauld Place. He wished he could have gone to sleep that Sunday afternoon in his four poster bed at Hogwarts, and woken up when Christmas was over. Last Christmas, Sirius had been there...singing and drinking wine, joking and laughing. No matter how many people were there, how hard they tried to make the day festive, Harry knew he would find the house achingly empty. 'It's your godson's first Christmas,' he told himself severely. 'You should be happy about that.'

'Sure,' said the bitter voice in his head. 'Your godson Sirius never told you about. He didn't trust you enough to tell you.'

'But he trusted me enough to tell Jade to make me his godfather,' Harry's rational voice argued back.

'Well, that's great,' the bitter voice taunted him. 'Another weapon Voldemort can use against you.'

Harry had no comeback for that. He clenched his fists and stared out of the window, his back to Ginny and Hermione, who were seated cross legged, precariously leaning against the brass footboard of the bedstead.

Ginny's misty reflection looked back at him. Crookshanks was curled in her lap and she stroked him absently, tangling her fingers in his long fur as she stared, frowning, through the window at the passing fields and the leaden sky. Harry turned sharply at the edge of bitter tears in her voice. 'Ron, have...have you heard from Percy?'

Ron shook his head glumly. 'I don't think he's coming...'

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy book, and patted Ginny's shoulder in sympathy, but Ginny twitched her hand away angrily. Crookshanks gave a spiteful hiss. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as Ginny swore viciously. She and Ron exchanged glances, but said nothing. Ron shrugged, as though resigned to his brother's estrangement from the family, but Ginny's eyes blazed with fury. 'Traitor!' she spat.

'You don't know that...' Hermione tried to placate her. 'He just can't admit he was wrong.'

'I don't care!' Ginny snapped defiantly, brushing a strand of bitten hair from her mouth. 'Are we still going to make excuses for him if he sells us out to You-Know-Who, just like...' she broke off, realising from Ron's stricken expression that she had gone too far.

'...Wormtail,' finished Harry, before he could stop himself.

'My God, Harry,' Ron whispered, appalled. 'Is that what you think?' His hand gripping the bedstead was trembling slightly. Hermione reached across and held it in her own.

Harry bit his lip and glanced out of the window again. 'I don't know...sorry for saying that. It just sort of...came out.' He stared fixedly at the passing grey skyline, feeling three pairs of eyes on the back of his head. It just came out...because he knew that was what Ginny was thinking.

And that was driving him insane. Her voice, her thoughts, her eyes, that smile...refused to be obliterated from his mind, no matter how often he told himself it was insane. How could he be obsessed with someone he'd barely given a second glance in four years, just because he happened to see her looking at a baby one day? How could he have let his chance slip away without a thought? And what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

'I have never...had feelings for someone in this room...' She had blushed and looked uncomfortable while he stared at his shoes like they were the Quidditch Cup.

Her head resting against his shoulder on the mountain that day, apple-scented russet hair brushing his cheek... 'I'm sorry this has to be so hard for you.'

'Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago.' Hermione would know – they talk all the time.

The bitter taste of smoke and Lupin's searching eyes. 'Better to risk your pride than risk losing them forever.'

His father took the risk. 'I will if you go out with me, Evans.'

'You're less like your father than I thought you were.' Sirius would have taken it.

'And if he didn't take risks, maybe he'd be alive,' the demon voice goaded. 'Maybe he'd be singing Christmas carols again this year...Haven't you noticed what happens to people who take risks? Haven't you noticed what happens to people you love?'

Sirius's free-falling form flashed across Harry's mind, as Ginny's reflected eyes glared at him in the window pane.

'Shut up,' Harry muttered, as if it could silence the voices ringing in his head.

'What's wrong?' Hermione asked, regarding him with concern.

'Er...I meant Pig.' Harry gestured vaguely at the tiny owl, who was zooming above their heads. 'I was trying to remember that counter-jinx we were practising...' he trailed off, unconvincingly even to himself.

'Don't you think it's obvious? Everyone can tell from the way you look at her. You're making a fool of yourself, just like you did with Cho...' The voice would evidently not shut up. It drummed in Harry's head like Dudley's stereo. 'And they expect you to be over Sirius now. It's not like you were his best friend, or his lover. You're all out of self pity allocation.'

Harry wanted to scream or break something, as the cloudy fields gave way to garden cottages, and then dingy grey terraced houses, as they neared Grimmauld Place, and Ginny's angry brown mirror image eyes continued to glare at him in the window.

The Knight Bus slammed to a halt outside 11 Grimmauld Place, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny tumbled onto the pavement as quickly as possible, before it wheel-spinned screechily, and shot off in a cloud of exhaust and black burning rubber smoke.

The familiar bass of the next door stereo thudded through the twilight and a dog barked in the distance as the dishevelled group shivered on the pavement, concentrating on the house materialising in front of them. Ron hammered impatiently on the heavy black door. Hasty footsteps were heard, and Lupin opened the door. He looked as enthusiastic as Harry felt about Christmas, but greeted them warmly, and insisted on carrying Ginny and Hermione's bags to their room.

A fire crackled cheerfully in the kitchen grate, and Mrs Weasley balanced on a chair, hanging gold streamers and sprigs of holly above the window. A sweet, spicy fragrance of Christmas pudding mingled with the scent of wood smoke. Clumps of Fred and George's Mischief Managing Mistletoe were liberally scattered about the room. But none of these festive colours could detract from the lonely hand-knitted-jumper-shaped parcel lying on the scrubbed wooden tabletop. 'Return to sender.' Mrs Weasley wiped her eyes while her back was still turned, before climbing down from her chair to embrace each of them.

'How was your trip? Was the Knight Bus awful? Are you cold, Ginny? Harry, dear, you look tired. And Ron, your robes are too short again...Hermione, will you run upstairs and tell Jade I'm making tea? Poor dear, that child kept her up all night!'

Jade looked almost as though she was sleepwalking when she followed Hermione into the kitchen a few minutes later. James, by contrast, was wide awake, and Ginny brightened visibly when Jade let her take him from her. She curled into an armchair with him cradled in her arms, murmuring soothing baby nonsense, and kissed him softly on his forehead.

'Staring at her is a good way to make sure no one notices anything.' Harry snapped to his feet and paced distractedly around the kitchen, almost tripping over Crookshanks, who was determined to wrap himself around Harry's legs.

Jade flopped into another chair, her mug of tea clasped in both hands. 'The decorations are pretty,' she said, smiling wanly.

Mrs Weasley frowned worriedly from Jade to Harry. 'I know it's not the happiest Christmas for any of you, but...well, I wanted to, for James...'

'I know, Molly. It's his first Christmas...' Jade's gaze rested on her child cradled in Ginny's arms, watched over by those intent brown eyes.

Harry was very conscious of Mrs Weasley and Hermione observing him with worried expressions. He stamped off towards the fireplace, acting as if he was cold in order to turn his back on everyone in the room. He hated the way people kept looking at him as if he might break. And he hated that they seemed afraid to mention Sirius's name in front of him. 'You did happen to notice he's dead,' that spiteful voice reminded him. And he hated them saying his name anyway. And he hated the way Jade never got angry; she just seemed sad and tired all the time. 'She doesn't need to be angry...she has his baby now...and she was with him all that time you didn't even speak to him...' Bitter words of mockery.

He stared into the flames, watching them devour the crumbling logs into red hot ash, like the destructive anger that burned him on the inside.

'Where's Professor Lupin?' he heard Hermione ask conversationally. 'He didn't come back downstairs...'

Harry turned automatically, as if to look for him.

'He's not himself,' Mrs Weasley replied, shaking her head sadly. 'He seems terribly withdrawn...smokes alone in his room for hours...'

'...Doesn't talk to anyone,' Jade added wearily. She stopped abruptly, fiddling awkwardly with her mug, as Remus entered the kitchen.

The faint smokiness that lingered about him was sharper than usual, and his eyes looked not so much tired as...blank. Harry was vividly reminded of Sirius's expression when he spoke about Azkaban; that look as though shutters had closed behind his eyes, hiding a world of pain.

'Remus,' Mrs Weasley smiled with forced cheerfulness. 'Would you like some tea?'

Lupin appeared not to have heard her. His eyes raked the room and took in the abandoned parcel on the table. 'Sorry,' he said simply, crossing the room swiftly and embracing Mrs Weasley, while Ron and Ginny scowled.

'Happy Christmas,' satired the snide voice in Harry's mind. He wished he could shove the mental image of Sirius laughing and carolling last Christmas into the fire and burn it. Anything to stop it tormenting him like the voice that would not be muted.

A shabby duffel bag and a briefcase marked with peeling gold letters lay in the doorway. Mrs Weasley seemed to notice them too, the moment she stepped away from Lupin's hug. Her eyes filled with tears. 'You're not leaving...'

'I'm sorry, Molly, Jade...' Lupin said dully.

'You can't be alone, at Christmas...' Molly protested.

He shook his head. 'But I can't... I can't be here, not now.' His expression was unfathomable; his eyes dead.

A glimmer of understanding flickered in Jade's shadowed eyes. She got up and tucked her hand into Lupin's for a moment, and planted a sisterly kiss on his lined cheek. 'Come back soon.' She scooped James from Ginny's arms and held him up to be kissed. 'Baby will miss you...'

Lupin gave a heartbroken smile as he looked into those innocent grey eyes, then turned and walked away without another word.

Harry couldn't help feeling desperately disappointed at the same time as sympathetic. 'You just wanted to whine about your love life. Which is hopeless, if you didn't notice,' the sardonic voice mocked him.

'No, I don't want him to be alone, when he's so unhappy,' Harry argued with himself.

'You want him here to make you feel better, to make you the guest of honour at the pity party.'

Harry sighed. The room was awkwardly silent. Mrs Weasley was looking at him with that what-if-he-falls-apart expression again. 'I wish he would stay...we all need each other at times like this,' she lamented.

'I think he should be alone, if he needs to,' Jade mused, intently watching James's eyelids, which finally appeared to be drooping in sleep.

'I want to forget about bloody Christmas too!' the bitterness burst out of Harry's mouth. 'Why do we have to pretend everything's normal when it isn't? Sirius is DEAD, and Percy's not coming back and James has no father...' Harry fell silent, torn between the part of him that wanted to scream until his anger filled the room instead of exploding inside him, and the part of him that listened in disbelief as these poisonous words tumbled from his mouth.

'Hurting isn't going to bring him back, Harry,' Hermione said softly. 'You've got to let go...you've got to let yourself live again. Sirius would want James to have Christmas...'

'You don't know what he'd want!' Harry snarled, the voice of anger beyond control now. 'I don't think he wanted to be dead. I don't think he wanted to abandon us, and for us to pretend nothing happened. And how does Lupin get out of letting himself live, if I have to? He's not the only one that lost...' he forced himself to stop before his voice broke.

'He's the only one that lost him twice,' Ginny said. Her voice was soft, but each word crashed like thunder. For the second time, Harry looked at her as though he'd never seen her in his life. She was so right. He loved her for her compassion and he hated her furiously for being right. Lupin lost his friend to betrayal before he lost him to death...found him only to lose him a second time, to be entirely alone... Ginny realised that, and she despised him for not seeing it. That was unbearable.

Harry ran, stumbling up the stairs, and slammed the bedroom door closed. The room was icy cold, and he shivered as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, but it didn't occur to him to pull the covers over himself. No blanket could smother misery this cold. He didn't know how long he lay there in the gathering darkness before he fell asleep...

Harry was standing on the stone dais in the middle of the shadowy amphitheatre, facing the crumbling stone archway. The black curtain fluttered, and whispering voices called to him. He stepped closer, nothingness drawing him like a magnet. The veil rippled before his eyes, and he sensed a presence just beyond it. Sirius. Freefalling. Oblivion. Peace. Harry stood on the edge of the abyss. Pain behind him, and redemption luring him forward. He saw fear and regret fade into the embracing darkness. Another step. The veil rippled, so close it trembled against his ragged breath. One more step...

Through the filmy blackness, Harry discerned a face. Slate grey eyes looking into his and a sad broken smile. Right there in front of him, and yet an eternity away. Sirius, breathed Harry. He stretched out his hand to touch the veil and reach beyond. It was ice cold and formless.

'You don't belong here...' the voice of a ghost in a dream told him.

'I belong with you, with my parents...' Harry protested. He could see them, as if in a mirror; his mother and father, Sirius...smiling at him. The siren song of oblivion consumed his mind.

'Death doesn't own you, Harry. Your parents gave their lives for you. I couldn't live for you...dying for you was my salvation. Life belongs to you...' And then in a tone that was far less ghost and far more Sirius, 'now get the hell out of here'.

Before Harry could respond, the image beyond the veil and the call of oblivion were torn from his consciousness as an insistent knock on the door obliterated the vestiges of his dream.

Blinking and rubbing his eyes, Harry remembered his furious outburst earlier...wryly he realised that Ron was probably terrified to enter his own room. 'S'okay, come in...' he mumbled, ashamed.

But the figure that stood in the doorway, wearing a green jumper over Ron's faded old pyjamas was Ginny. 'I couldn't sleep.'

Harry blinked again, trying to clear the surreal haze that enveloped him. Moments ago he had felt as though he physically stood before the veil to the otherworld, contemplating the unthinkable, and talking to Sirius's...ghost. Now Ginny was standing in front of him in her pyjamas, and the clock – which suddenly seemed to be ticking very loudly – informed him that it was half-past two in the morning.

'Er...d'you know where Ron is?' he asked, confused.

'Still having a deep and meaningful with Hermione.' Ginny attempted to suppress a smirk, and Harry grinned in spite of himself.

He shivered as he looked at her standing in the doorway. The room was freezing cold, and he couldn't think of a thing to say.

Ginny frowned, biting a strand of red hair. 'I...I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to hurt you. Merlin, I can be so insensitive.'

Harry sighed, shaking his head. He hugged his knees and stared at his feet. 'No, you were right...I never thought of it like that, but you're right.' Guilt smothered his soul like a heavy blanket.

Tentatively, Ginny crossed the room and sat down at the end of Harry's bed. Her eyes looked as though she might have been crying, but that could have been the light of the candle she carried, which glinted in her hair, and cast flickering shadows over her face. 'But I didn't mean that it's any easier for you...' she said softly.

'At least Lupin was here with him...and Jade. I could have talked to Sirius all along, and I never did. He gave me his mirror, and I forgot about it,' Harry said gruffly, hating himself, and wondering at the same time why he was telling Ginny this.

'I think Lupin feels like you do...' Ginny ventured. 'He spent twelve years hating the wrong person. He can't change that. Regret must be the most painful part...'

'Jade doesn't have that,' Harry observed wistfully.

'No regrets...' Ginny lowered the candle, so that her face was in darkness. 'Harry?'

'Er, yeah?' Harry looked at Ginny questioningly. Her expression was unfathomable in the dark.

'...Oh, nothing...never mind. I just wanted to say sorry...couldn't sleep 'cause I felt bad, but you probably want to be alone...' Her hair hid her face as she stood up, and shut the door softly behind her.

Harry rolled over and punched his cold pillow. 'Alone.'