A/N: Takes place in late 80's. Sirius/Lily at the end, so beware if you don't agree.
Disclaimer: Only things that are mine are the writing, the characterization, and the idea. Everything else belongs to JKR.
Reunion.
He pushes his hands through his hair indecisively. Their usual softness and shine are absent, replaced by a sort of dullness. But it's raining outside, so it doesn't really matter. He moves from the canopy of trees to the sidewalk, leaving the gated park in Notting Hill he's Apparated into. The thick downpour simply bounces off him, his clothes magically enhanced and his eyes spelled to repel H2O. He pulls his wand out of his back pocket, flicks it at nothing in particular, and slides it up his right coat sleeve. The rain is suddenly on him, crawling over his skin like a bad disease, the wetness appearing more like sweat from a long night with a girl than a few minutes in the rain. His hair slicks to his head like a skullcap, elongating the strands, making it stringy and smelling of acid.
He crosses his arms and sighs. He has to do it now or never. It's his only chance. He doesn't feel the chill of the rain seeping into his bones, or even the already-cool temperature. He's been through a lot worse than this.
The sight of the old house is enough to send him shivering, though. A clinging freeze rolls down his spine, sending his hair on end like a dog raises its hackles. He ignores it and pushes the latch on the gate open, the garden unfolding before him—brilliant white orchids, a rose bush scaling the side of the house, rows of placid geraniums drinking in the downpour. He pushes himself to close the gate, to walk up the steps to the porch, and to knock on the front door. He would use the back door, but he is now a visitor.
The front door cracks open a little. A girl with blonde and purple hair pulled into pigtails on either side of her head pokes out through the crack, raising her eyebrows at him.
"Hello?"
He bows his head to her level and peers at her. "Hello."
"May I help you?"
"I'm looking for Remus Lupin."
The girl's eyes flash with recognition. She opens the door wider. "Come in," she says softly. "Sirius."
Sirius's mouth hangs open for a minute. "How—"
"Yeah, we all know who you are." As he enters, she snaps the door shut behind him and squeezes her eyes shut in the direction of the door. The various locks all click into place, bolting the door from strangers. The girl glares up at him—she's got to be no older than thirteen—as she passes by. "Follow me."
From the foyer, they enter the front room, which is actually in the back of the house. It's been so long since Sirius has been here that he doesn't remember the composition of the place. The hallway is littered with signs of life: shoes lined up on a rack; coats on hooks; little splashes of rain from people walking in from the outdoors.
In the front room are several couches, two leather arm chairs, a long coffee table in the middle, and a colour television. Not to mention six people. Sirius stands silently in the doorway until the girl pushes past him and sits next to the eldest of the wizards. Sirius closes his eyes, remembering being here five years ago, in the darker times.
"Sirius, won't you sit down?" The eldest of them calls. Sirius moves over to one of the unoccupied sofas and sits, folding his hands in his lap. He stares at his fingers for a moment before glancing up at Albus Dumbledore.
"Hey, Big D."
Albus chuckles at the old school nickname, clearly remembering all of the frequent visits from Sirius to the headmaster's office at Hogwarts. "Ah, Sirius. You've finally returned." He pauses, collecting his words. "I knew you'd come back, once you heard about Regulus."
Sirius closes his eyes, breathing slowly. Regulus. He hadn't even thought about Regulus for the last few days of his journey, too preoccupied with getting back into England safely, too busy worrying about if they would remember him or not. As least those two were taken care of. "Yeah," he replies finally, "I thought it'd be nice of me to stop in before I went to Devon."
"Is that all this is, Sirius? A pleasant visit to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?"
He flinches at the mention of the organization. "I—I'm so sorry, Albus. For being such a coward."
"Sirius, dear boy, you are anything but a coward."
"How do you mean?"
"You have braved so much more than any of us could have asked. You have faced Him six times, fought for your life for so many more. You are a true son of Godric Gryffindor." Albus says this with pride, as if he himselfis the infamous founder of the House.
Sirius takes a moment to swallow this. "But—I betrayed you all."
Albus smiles affectionately, as if this statementis an old joke between the two of them. "We survived, did we not?"
This hasn't occurred to Sirius. But the Order has made it, despite the things he's done. The things he's said. At this point, the tension in his bodyis evaporating, and he glances around the room at the other people. The girl with the weird hair and piercing gaze, who he definitely knows from somewhere; a long-faced woman with dark circles under her eyes who has to be Emmeline Vance; three unspeaking men whom Sirius doesn't know.
Suddenly, someone bursts into the room. "Albus, sir, he's having another attack, sir," says the dark-haired, bespectacled boy, and runs back out. The girl gives Albus a furtive glance, receives a nod from the older man, and follows the boy.
"Jesus, where the hell do I know her from?" Sirius wonders aloud, then quickly realises his outburst.
"Tonks—but I believe you know her as 'Dora'?" Albus smiles as Sirius's mouth gapes open.
"But—how could I not recognise—Albus, that looks nothing like Dora."
"That's because she's a metamorphmagus."
"A what?"
"She can shape-shift. Change her appearance at will. You must have studied it, when you … experimented." Albus's eyes twinkle with amusement.
Experimented. Sirius thinks back to school, his studying to become an Animagus. "Yeah. I think I remember that term." He pauses. "That's really Dora."
"Mmhmm."
"Why didn't she say anything? She's my daught—cousin. My responsibility." Sirius can't grasp his mind around this. The tiny little girl he'd left behind when he went to Russia—he shivers at the thought of that country—didn't even give him the light of day now?
"I believe she was rather hurt when you didn't return from your mission."
"Who was that boy, there? Who's having an 'attack'?"
"That was Harry Potter." Albus nods at Sirius's surprised look. "And I believe your best friend of a rather long time is having another of his severe headaches, which he's been having since he was hit with a stray Avada Kedavra and then revived."
Sirius stands up. "Can we go there?"
Albus mimicks his actions, cracking his back carefully in the process. "I believe so." The ancient wizard leads him to a set of stairs, then down them into what Sirius had assumed to be a basement, butis actually a second kitchen, equipped with a long wooden table, more than several chairs, and six more people. This group is far more familiar than those sitting upstairs: James and Lily Potter, Rubeus Hagrid, Hestia Jones, Molly Weasley, Harry Potter, and Remus Lupin. Dorais nowhere in sight, but Sirius knows she'll be back.
He stands at the edge of the kitchen while Albus speaks to Harry quietly, whois sitting next to a cot on which Remus lays, until Molly Weasley stands, walks over to Sirius, and smacks him hard on the face.
Heis speechless. "I—Moll—"
"Shh, dear. Let me get you something to eat, your bones are poking out dreadfully." The short woman wraps his six-foot-five frame into an air-depriving hug, releases him, and sits him promptly across from James and Lily, before shuffling off to the stove and clattering with pots and pans.
"Hey, Pads."
"Hey, Jim."
Sirius stares across the table at his other half. James is skinny still, like Sirius, and his glasses are crooked like always. His hair is a bit tamer, but still stands up in the back. He doesn't look that much more different than when he'd last laid eyes on Sirius five years previous.
Lily is a different story. She is more beautiful than before, her freckles evening out but still prominent; her hair is longer than it had been, and half-curly, half-wavy, giving her slim frame a bit more leverage. Motherhood glows in her features, and she eyes Harry sofly.
"Lily, you're pregnant." Sirius knows it in the blurred edges of her face, her glowing cheeks and skin.
"Four and a half months." She nods, reaching across the table for Sirius's hands. He gives them and lets her hold his fingers in hers, sees her gaze waver a bit. "If you don't get out of those wet clothes, you'll catch something." Lily stands, her stomach only just beginning to show a bump, and smoothes James's hair as she starts for the stairs.
"Better do as she says, Sirius." James isn't meeting his eyes.
"Yeah, I guess." Sirius follows Lily. She is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs to the upper floors, a stack of dry clothing in her arms.
"He's very angry with you," she says softly as they ascend, and Sirius stares at the stairs to avoid her eyes.
"I know."
They stop at the second landing, in front of a door. "So am I." Sirius can't meet her piercing green eyes, the same ones he'd fallen for years ago. She hands him the clothes, their bodies pressing close together precariously. He moves so that she is against the door, kissing her softly. She kisses back.
Moments pass, and he closes his eyes, breaking away from her mouth, his hands feeling up and down her arms, his face buried in her hair. Her breath is sharp and raspy, and the palms of his hands trace from her back to her waist to her hips. He steps back from her, his mouth open. Tears are blooming in her eyes.
"Sirius, don't do this." She moves to clasp his jaw in her hands, but he sidesteps her and slides into the room, where he strips and pulls on the undershirt, the black Oxford, and the jeans. He folds his wet clothes and sets them on a chair by the door. When he opens the door, Lily is gone. He sighs—thisis going to be a really long night.