The boys arn't mine, they're Ms rowlings. Sniff.

I wrote this after reading a very angst filled James and Sirius fic that did not end happily. So i finished that and was feeling quite blue, so i decided to write afic with a bit more hope.

Warnings: Talk of severe child abuse. Non explicit male/male.

Hold all of me

A house in Sussex rich and warm. A boy in his teens, looks out over the expansive fields behind his home.

He shakes messy dark hair out of his hazel eyes and pushes his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose.

He frowns, his expression, a mixture of worry and impatience.

He glances at the calendar on his bedside table. The 20th of July. He sighs and resumes his looking out the window.

xxxxxxx

London, a square of large uninteresting Victorian houses. Voices come from number 12. The hallway is dark, grim.

A man yells at his teenage son.

The boy yells back, boldly defiant, his pale features twisted in anger, a faint but harsh stripe of scarlet blossoms on his high cheekbones.

A woman appears. She does not trouble herself with raised voices, but backhands the boy across the face. He raises his chin, fire still burning bright in his gray eyes. One last act of defiance. He is unbroken. She lifts her wand coolly to his face.

A scream, almost choked back, echoes around the square.

xxxxxxx

James Potter bid his parents a good night and headed up the stairs to bed.

When he entered the attic bedroom that was his own, his first act was to look around for his owl, Apollo.

There was no sign of the barn owl. James sighed. No owl meant no post. No post meant no word from Sirius.

Three weeks it had been. Three weeks and he had not heard from his best friend. James was worried, not hearing from Sirius generally meant that he was not being treated well. Ha understatement of the sodding century. James sighed again.

He began to get ready for bed. He had only just closed his eyes when there was a knock on the door.

James looked at the clock by his bedside. 12.45 it read. Who on earth would be knocking on his door at quarter to one in the morning?

He got out of bed and tiptoed down the stairs. His parent's room was silent thus indicating their lack of wakefulness.

He continued on down the hall. James could hear rain fall, hard and fast, a sudden summer storm. He reached the landing above the front hall. There was a window here, looking out over the drive. He pressed his face to the glass, trying to see the door's knocker.

It was no use. With the darkness the hour had brought upon the countryside, and the heavy rainfall, James could see approximately two feet past the end of his own nose.

He walked slowly to the front door.

He looked at the front door, apprehension pouring out of him. The door stood there however, solid and oaky, just as it always had done.

He opened it slowly, timidly.

The sight that met his eyes was a sorry one. Oh my…

Barely visible, between the dark house and the dark road, his dark clothing blending him blearily into the backdrop, Sirius Black stood on James Potter's doorstep.

His jeans were sodden, and the thin, inadequate jacket he wore, clung to his lean frame like a second skin. His dark Jaw length hair dripped miserably into his face pulled dead straight with the rainwater. His charcoal eyes showed vulnerability and relief as he looked back into James's staring face.

Oh shit. Oh Siri what have they done to you? James let out a choking gasp, releasing the breath he had been holding, and reached forward to tug his friend into the house, pulling his school trunk in after him.

James shut the door on the cold, wet darkness and flicked on the hall light.

In the sudden brightness, James noticed several things he hadn't before.

Sirius was shaking. Though with cold or something else James couldn't tell.

He had a black eye, a split lip and a gash above his eyebrow.

James took all this in. shit, shit, shit…oh Jesus.

"Oh Sigh." He murmured "Come on." James said slinging an arm around Sirius's shoulders "lets sort you out."

James led Sirius through to the kitchen. His arm was still draped around his friends shaking shoulders. My darling…oh I love you…I'm sorry you had to go through this…so sorry…I love you…Its all

right, I'll keep you safe.

James sat Sirius down at the breakfast table and lit a flame under the kettle to boil water. He vanished into the hall for a moment where his mother had left a basket of clean laundry. He handed Sirius a towel, a dry t-shirt, and a pair of pyjama bottoms.

"Here, we'll sort your stuff out tomorrow, for now though…these'll fit you, we're about the same size." Of course we are. James was mostly saying this to have something to say. Of course the borrowed clothing would fit Sirius…how often had they got school shirts and robes mixed up, and not noticed until the articles of clothing were removed and the labels, initials firmly inked, spotted. How many times had Sirius casually 'borrowed' an item from James's wardrobe simply because he 'liked it'? Borrow anything you like cause when I get it back it'll smell of you. They both knew perfectly well that the clothing they wore, was about the same size, but James pointed this fact out anyway, because he could not think of another thing to say, and if he left silence between them…well, James could think of no way to breach the subject of the enormous thing Sirius appeared to have done, and if they were kept in silence there's no way he would be able not to mention it.

"Jay the kettle." Sirius said in a horse voice. Jesus…your voice…you are not supposed to sound like that. James nodded and went through the comforting ritual of making two mugs of tea. I'll fix it…don't worry I'll fix it. James liked tea much better in a mug than in a teacup because if it was in a mug you could wrap your hands around it and make them all toasty warm. James figured that if he could do nothing else for his friend he could supply the materials needed to make Sirius's hands toasty warm.

His plan, operation make Sirius's hands toasty, was foiled when he saw the state of his best friends hands. He had to work very hard not to drop both mugs. Oh not your hands…she didn't touch your hands…I never wanted anything but those were mine…you said I could have them…she hurt them…she hurt you…really did…my baby she hurt you…He set them carefully on the table before taking both of Sirius's hands in his own and turning them over.

James had always loved Sirius's hands. A piano player's hands. Long, thin pale skinned tapered fingers, extended from a pale skinned palm. On the back you could see the four tendons that ran up his fingers, and knuckles that angled sharply. Delicate looking yet strong they made his gesticulation elegant and fluid. River running.

But now…now…his palms were scarred and bleeding and red raw, as though he had run them over and over across a rough brick wall. The scars looked like burns. Newly scarred burns.

"What happened?" James breathed forgetting his desire not to talk about it.

"I ran."

"Ran?"

"Here. From London."

"All the way…from…"

"Yeah…it was easier…they broke my broom…I didn't have any money…I left so suddenly…had to get to you James…needed you…went as Padfoot…took two days…I hadn't eaten." Needed me? I'm here…

"What about these?" James asked gently skimming a finger oh so gently across a patch of shiny scarred skin.

"She…she…" there was no need to ask who 'she' was bitch "She said…she said she was going to sterilise me, purify…from you and all my 'mudblood and blood traitor friends'…"You use a flame to sterilise a needle" she said…I…she…she took my hand…my left…my wand hand…she held it only inches from the flames…she said…she said…that if I never saw you again she wouldn't…she would leave me alone…forgive me…she said she didn't want to hate me…that I was hers really and she wanted to love me. Then I screamed at her that I would rather die than never see you again…only person in the world who truly gives a fuck…truly loved me…and then she…she held my left hand in the flames with her wand…and I screamed…I tried not to James, I swear I tried. I knew you wouldn't want me to, but she held it there and laughed. She laughed and laughed. I begged her to stop…I was crying…it hurt so much and then she asked again whether I would give you up and I said no…and…and…my right…

That was on the first day back…and my hands are ruined."

James had sat starring at Sirius, and your still standing? After…after all that? His chest wrenched in pain for his Sirius, who deserved so much and had so little.

He lifted Sirius's hands gently in his own. He bent his head and kissed first his right palm, then his left. One for sorrow, two for joy. No Magpie's here.

"They are still the most beautiful hands I've ever seen." Sirius's tears were silent but they shook him none the less. "And I am awed to even know you…" Sirius was shaking his head now tears streaming more profusely. James gulped and pulled Sirius to him in one fluid motion.

"I am so proud of you. I love you Sirius. I love you. I was so worried, so scared. I should have come for you when I started to think that maybe…I love you, I've got you, you're here now, I'm here now." James's eyes widened slightly as he heard what he had just said I said it? I said I love you…it's true…of course it's true but then Sirius gasped into James's shoulder, and he was shuddering in James's arms and there was nothing more to say just then. I've got you baby…always… Finally Sirius lent back to look into his face. James looked down at him and saw him truly with no mask for the first time. There was nothing to break or see through, nothing to look for, it was written all too clearly in Sirius's face, the desire…the need to simply be held, to be cradled and rocked.

By me…not anyone else, by me…by me And so James took Sirius gently by the hand and led him upstairs. The towel, and the pyjamas and the tea left untouched on the table.

They entered James's bedroom. James led Sirius to sit on the edge of his bed. He moved to get more pyjamas but Sirius stilled him. They looked at each other.

The air was electric, and at the same time, as inexplicable as it sounds there was an uncanny stillness permeating the atmosphere. oh my…What is that?

A serene September sunset, and James had Niagara roaring in his ears. Sirius's eyes…they were electric. Usually open gray eyes…easy to read…at least for James…suddenly they were deeper than the Atlantic and twice as wide I'm in too deep. Heartbeats quickened They've seen too much, those eyes. They weren't 17 they were 170. James swallowed.

Sirius voice sounded then. As thin and soft as a silken thread. Easily breakable…you break it you bought it.

"Will you just…hold me…to prove your not like them...I know you're not…but…but will you just prove it. They don't even look at me…they don't…"

And suddenly James could see through those Atlantic eyes. See right to the bottom as though looking through glass. He knew what was being asked of him. He knew how to speak Sirius. Oh Sear.

James's heart broke just a little then and he reached forward to gently caress Sirius's cheek. Gray eyes locked again on haze. They begged, James was frightened to see.

James made a decision. He gently pulled Sirius's wet t-shirt over his head. He placed a gentle hand on Sirius's still shaking shoulder. Hazel comforted gray.

He removed his own t-shirt. Nothing hidden, not from you my Sear.

He moved a hand down to Sirius waist band and slowly unbuttoned his fly giving his best friend plenty of time to stop him. Sirius's eyes were wide. Nice and slow now…it's alright I've got you Sirius lifted his hips whilst kicking off his trainers, and James eased his jeans and underwear down his legs. He kept his eyes fixed on Sirius's face -tracing his straight nose and brows, his large gray eyes and shivering lips, high purpled cheekbones- you, my dear, are beauty as he slid his own trousers off his hips. He then let his eyes very deliberately slide slowly down Sirius's body, head to toes, before returning his gaze to his friends face.

James reached behind him to turn down the edge of the cover and wrapped his arms around Sirius. C'mere…it's okay James pulled the other boy gently, laying him down on his side and slipping down beside him.

Chests were pressing together, noses barely an inch apart, arms encircled torsos.

Sirius moved slowly but deliberately closer, till there was not an inch of space between their naked forms, the gentle caress of skin on skin. Their legs twined together, Sirius stopped shaking. Two pairs of hands on two backs pressed and pulled closer. That's right my fallen angel…that's right

Sirius leant forward and as his eyes fluttered delicately closed, pressed a kiss of pure love and deep gratitude on James's mouth. Then his breathing slowed, and he fell, gently lulled, to sleep. I've got you…It's alright…I've got you…I've got you now.

Please review. This is my baby, please tell me what you think.