Sirius was watching it snow from the grimy living room window of twelve Grimmauld Place. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sit up and watch the snowfall, not comfortably at least. It was peaceful, quiet, the fire crackled warmly across the room. No one else was home, or so Sirius had thought until he heard someone clear their throat across the room.
'Beautiful, isn't it?" Remus asked, stepping inside with his hands tucked into his pockets. "I can still remember what it looked like falling through the dormitory window…"
"When you'd wake up in the morning with it all frosted over?"
"Snow piled halfway up the window sill," Remus smiled nostalgically. That was a long time ago. Sirius didn't think he'd ever see a Hogwarts winter again. Truth be told, there were days in Azkaban he'd wondered if he'd ever see any snow again. He'd been lucky though…
"The kids are all back at school?"
"Left yesterday," Sirius nodded. "They seemed excited to go back."
"We always were," Remus reminded him. "Do you ever look at them and see…"
"Us?" Sirius finished, turning to look up at his old friend. "Harry's got the looks for it."
"Merlin, sometimes, when he turns his head just right, I could swear I see James again…"
"It's even more uncanny when you see him sitting next to Ginny. The other day they were on their couch, their backs to me, and I thought…" Sirius didn't want to say out loud what he'd thought. It'd been difficult enough when he'd stumbled upon the pair and thought, for a fleeting, blissful moment, his closest friends were back from the grave.
Remus came over and plopped onto the couch beside him. "I can say one thing for sure: James would have been disappointed with our New Year's celebrations."
Sirius laughed. That much was true. After years of legendary New Years parties at the Potter Manor, nights spent so drunk only moments could be recalled, Sirius and Remus had failed to show Harry a good time during his own celebrations.
"There'll be more New Years to celebrate," Sirius reasoned. "One day we'll show them how it's done properly…"
"Still beats our last New Years altogether." Sirius had long since forgotten that night. The Order had been falling apart, Peter's treachery making it increasingly difficult to trust one another. Everyone was terrified they would be next, that horror might befall them or their loved ones.
"It was still better than we realized," Sirius sighed. They had thought, back at the start of 1981, that things couldn't get much worse, but they'd had no idea. They didn't know how bad it could get, that by the end of their year they would be torn apart, separated forever. The Marauders would crumble, the Order would fail and more than one child would be left orphaned. If Sirius had a choice, he would've gone back to that last, shitty New Years Eve in a heartbeat.
"You're probably right," Remus agreed. "They were the lucky ones, don't you think?"
"Yes," Sirius nodded. He would've chosen death over a lifetime of loneliness. Years spent knowing he would never get his friends back; he would never again hold the woman he loved in his arms. What had it all been worth? He'd been given ten joyful years in exchange for fifteen filled with misery. He doubted he'd ever feel that joy again. There would never be another friend like James or another love like…
"So, um," Remus cleared his throat awkwardly, "What do you think of Tonks?"
"Dromeda's daughter?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. It only took one look at Remus, cheeks bright red as he stared at the ground, to know where the question came from. "Isn't she a bit young for you, mate?"
"She's twenty-two!" Remus exclaimed. "Besides, that's not why I'm asking, I just…she's nice, isn't she?" Sirius struggled not to laugh. Remus had never been particularly confident when it came to women.
"Sure," he agreed. "She's a talented witch. Reminds me of a few stubborn women I've known in my lifetime…"
"Yeah," Remus sighed, his face growing long. "All women that met terrible fates."
Sirius turned his head away as the image of a body, slumped over and tied to a chair, clouded his thoughts. Her long blonde hair hanging in front of her face, stringy from sweat, her head hanging at a jarring angle…
"Sorry," Remus apologized, as though he'd seen her too. Sirius looked up, struggling to collect himself.
"It's fine." He shrugged, although it wasn't. "It's been a long time."
"It still doesn't feel like enough." Sirius could see now that Remus had brought up Tonks for more than an opinion, he'd needed approval. Someone to tell him it was okay to close the door on the past and turn to the future.
"She wouldn't want you to spend your life waiting," Sirius told him. He didn't need to name her when Dorcas was clearly all that Remus could think about. "If you're waiting for it to feel right, it won't." Sirius leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. "Besides, fifteen years of torture is quite enough." Sirius doubted he'd ever give love a second shot, not after all it had cost him, but he wouldn't feel guilty for needing someone. He wouldn't feel guilty about the recent weeks in which Emmeline had come to visit, shared a drink, and slipped into his bed beside him, warm to the touch. The company was a blessing for someone who had spent twelve years in utter isolation.
"The spoils of war," Remus whispered to himself. "That's all we are now, isn't it?'
"Yes," Sirius replied. It was true. Their lives had been given up for the soldier's cause, their dreams squandered, their loved ones killed. All that was left behind were pieces of the people they'd once been and the memory of the people they'd dreamt of becoming.
"I could kill him for it," Remus admitted with venom in his tone. "If I saw him now…"
"I know." It was all Sirius could muster in response when he'd dreamt of murdering Peter Pettigrew for his treason every day for fourteen years.
Lily was still asleep when James rolled out of bed. She had one hand tucked beneath her cheek and her hair raining down across her face in wisps of red. He pulled the blankets up a little higher to make sure everything but her head remained fully submerged. It was rare for James to wake before his wife, before his son for that matter, but today seemed different.
He had risen with a start as though something awful had happened, but the house had been still. When he rushed into his son's bedroom he found Harry sound asleep, not a hair on his head touched. Outside it was dreary, a grey old day, and the windows were frosty from the cold.
It was the first week of January 1981. The new year had come swiftly and caught them all by surprise. Unlike years before, this celebration had been quiet. A few friends over at their cottage, champagne passed around; Lily had insisted they watch a ball drop on the telly, which no one but her and Mary understood the excitement of.
The house was still and yet anxiety bubbled within James. He wandered downstairs, housecoat tied around his waist, to make a cup of coffee. He waited for the feelings to pass, the fear of danger, and yet they did not. Not once he'd drank his cup of coffee or when he heard Harry's cries carry down from upstairs. Not when he held his son in his arms or when he made a face that had Harry giggling.
"Darling?" Lily found him staring out the kitchen window, gazing across their back garden. He was holding Harry, rocking him back and forth as his mind wandered. "Are you okay?"
"The post is late," James, replied, as though that were any explanation for his strange behaviour.
"It's probably just the weather," Lily shrugged, taking the coffee pot to pour herself a mug. "That's not too unusual, is it?"
"It's never late," James persisted. "Not unless they've needed to add something…"
"Are you feeling okay?" Lily came over and pressed her palm to James' forehead. "You're not warm…"
"I'm fine." James was certainly not fine. The anxiety he'd woken with had only grown stronger as no danger had seemed to arise. There was something coming, something big, something that had his stomach all tied up in knots so that he couldn't eat a thing.
"You boys go sit in the living room," Lily suggested. "I'll whip up some breakfast."
James followed her command, sitting down on the couch with Harry, who fell asleep against his father's chest. James waited for the sound of a pecking beak at the kitchen window and the latch as Lily let the owl inside. He stayed seated, waiting until she brought it to the living room for James to read.
"Well?" she asked, hands on her hips, as he flipped it open with one hand and looked down.
"Just the usual," James confessed, stunned by the mundane news that covered every page.
"See?" Lily leaned in to give Harry a kiss on the top of his head. "Mama's always right."
Frank had not been scheduled to be in the office until mid-afternoon but, while eating breakfast with his wife, he received an urgent owl from Alastor Moody himself. Alice had not been pleased, mostly because she wanted so badly to join him.
"Emergency, that's all he said?" Alice fretted, standing in the doorway so Frank had no choice but to face her.
"Yes," he confirmed for the hundredth time. "I'm sure it's just a Death Eater attack—"
"One more month till I can work again and they go pulling all their best attacks while I'm out of action…"
"Most people would be grateful for that," Frank said as he pulled up his boot.
"Well, I'm not. I'm sick of being cooped up here with no one to talk to but a five-month-old! He's very cute but he's not much conversation wise."
Frank smirked. "Call my mother," he suggested, "you know she'd love to have you over for tea."
"Now you're just trying to hurt me." The truth was, Frank wished their roles were reversed. He wouldn't have minded staying back with the baby and avoiding the turmoil that likely waited for him at work. Neville was pure; he knew nothing of the war that raged on beyond their front door.
"You'll stay safe?" Alice worried. Frank stood up straight, stretching out his hand for Alice to take.
"As safe as I can."
"Please don't do anything stupid," she begged. "I'd go mad if anything happened to you…"
Frank held Alice close to his chest. He wished they could've stayed like that a while longer, five minutes, an hour, even a lifetime if they'd let them. Frank kissed the top of her head and exhaled deeply as they drew apart.
"I have to go."
"I know." He could see her fighting to keep the extent of her worry from showing. These were dark times. It was not the same as it had been three years ago when they'd first entered the Auror office. Each mission was life-threatening, their team grew weaker by the day and it seemed that people were dying now more than they were returning home victorious.
Alice walked him downstairs to the fireplace that he would use to get into the ministry. She stopped him just before he was going to go through, studying his face as though she might never see it again.
"I love you," she told him, making sure he heard every word clearly.
"I love you too." Frank ran a finger along her cheek. "I'll be home," he promised, stealing a final kiss. "I promise."
Neville had begun to cry from the baby chair he was sleeping in. With a final glance at the baby and a smile in Alice's direction, Frank stepped into the green flames and travelled to the ministry.
He hadn't a clue what was going on but it took one look around him, witches and wizards rushing, tears running down a few panicked faces, to see it wasn't good. Frank practically sprinted towards the elevators, slipping into one just before it took off. It was cramped with ministry employees from all different departments, all muttering to one another.
"Murdered," Frank heard a woman whisper to her friend in a scandalous tone. "The children too…" The doors came open on his floor and Frank hurried into the office, heart pounding in his chest. Murdered. The word was imprinted in his brain as he struggled to comprehend what had left the entire ministry in such a tizzy.
The Auror office was just as bad as the rest of the building, maybe worse. Memos flew left and right across the room, everyone had gathered around in the middle, between all their desks, where they would stand when Moody had an important announcement to make.
"What's going on?" Frank asked. He was out of breath as he came up to the back of the group, tapping on a fellow Auror's shoulder. Jeremy Brinks was a year above him. Frank had worked with him a dozen times, almost died with him more than once, but today there was fear in Jeremy's eyes like Frank had never seen before.
"Harold Minchum is dead," Jeremy announced somberly. "They murdered his entire family last night." Frank felt the hairs on his arms rise as Moody stepped in front of the group of them, arms crossed.
Half of the team was already at the Minister's house, helping clear out the mess. The rest of them would be divided up, some to help with clean up and others to protect Millicent Bagnold, the incoming minister. The most powerful man in the British Wizarding world dead, murdered in cold blood, his entire family put to death right before his eyes. Frank had never been a fan of Minchum's fear-mongering methods but he'd never imagined the minister to meet such a gruesome fate…
Frank was chosen among others to attend to the scene of the crime. When they arrived at what had once been the Minchum's three-story Victorian mansion, the dark mark was still blazing in the sky above it. The inside of the house was in ruins. They had pillaged the home, taken what they liked, breaking much, and left the tenants for dead.
Four bodies lay side-by-side on the living room floor: Harold, his wife Vivien, and their two young daughters. Frank closed his eyes and pretended for a second that when he opened them the scene would be cleared, the bodies would rise and the Minchum family would be safe. No such thing happened.
"How?" Frank asked Dorcas, who was helping to examine and clear the bodies from the scene.
"We can't be certain until they've been looked at by a professional, but it seems like the children went first…"
"Were they merciful at least?" Frank could not imagine harming children no older than eight. The youngest girl had long blonde hair braided and tossed over her shoulder. She was in pyjamas with pink and purple pygmy puffs all over them.
"They're never merciful," Dorcas said bitterly.
"Stop it," Marlene giggled, Sirius' stubble tickling her skin. He looked up; lips just below her belly button, and smirked.
"Really?" he teased.
"I wish you'd just shave that thing off," she rolled her eyes. "It makes you look old."
"You'd like me to look like a seventeen-year-old boy forever?"
"Well…" She was the one teasing now. She took his face into her hands and stroked his cheeks affectionately. "No, it just…" She smiled.
"What?" Sirius came up so he was lying on his side at eye-level with her.
"I never expected to know you as any more than a seventeen-year-old boy," she finally admitted. It felt a funny thing to say out loud, but the truth that watching Sirius age into a young man was startling at times, just as startling as it was when she realized they were living together now.
"Come here." He turned her face and kissed her, deeply, longingly, with passion. The kind of kisses Marlene had expected to stop when their "love affair" did. They hadn't, though. Just as her feelings for him hadn't begun to mellow the way everyone had warned they would when the honeymoon phase was through. "I'll shave it if you like."
"No." She shook her head, gazing up at him. "I'll allow it, as long as you keep it clean!"
"I forgot I needed your approval for my facial hair."
"All part of the deal."
"Well if we're making conditions I'd like to throw one in, no cutting your hair." Marlene's mouth fell open. "Or dyeing it!"
"Really? I thought a dark brown might be a nice change." She was only joking, but the look of horror on Sirius' face cracked her right up. "You really care about my hair that much?"
"I love your hair," Sirius insisted.
"You just have a thing for blondes." She rolled her eyes.
"Just one." He leaned in to kiss her once more and then moved aside, pretending to kiss her hair, making Marlene laugh as he pretended to move in and take a big bite of it.
"In fact, Black men usually only fall in love with cold-hearted, dark-haired, frigid women."
"Quite an image you've conjured up there."
"Seriously. Look at the women in my family." He wasn't wrong. They all had dark hair and striking features, just like Sirius. Marlene looked nothing like any of them, and she was grateful she'd never need to worry about fitting in with Sirius' family.
"Your parents would have hated me."
"For more than your hair," Sirius nodded, running his fingers through it. "The minute I told them your last name they would have screamed."
"You practically screamed the first time you heard my last name."
"Not true!" Sirius protested. "It was the know-it-all personality that really got under my skin—" Marlene smacked him on the shoulder.
"I was not!"
"So you didn't try and one up me as James' best friend?"
Marlene rolled her eyes. "Well, someone needed to let you know the position was already filled." Still, they could bicker about who James loved more, Marlene wondered if they'd be doing it ten years from now, gathered around the table for Christmas dinner. Ten years from now… the idea made her stomach turn. It shocked her enough to wipe the amused expression on her face and make Sirius worry.
"What? I know that look…"
"He'll kill us, you know? If this doesn't work out." She didn't need to explain what "this" was. It was the magnetic pull that the two of them had been fighting for years because of that very fear.
"I know." Sirius wasn't smiling now either.
"If something were to happen…"
"Come here."
"Sirius, I can't have an adult conversation with you if we're cuddling!"
"Too bad." She obliged, liking the feeling of being held too much to deny him.
"We'll make it work," he promised before she could get out another word. "We always have, even when it's been tough."
"We've never made it this far…"
"Do you have plans to go back?"
"No—"
"Me neither." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm quite happy at the moment. I don't plan to be any less happy a year from now, or two. I don't see a future you're not part of."
"Same, but—"
"You're overthinking." He moved down to kiss her shoulder. He was right of course, Merlin, she hated when he was right. His fingers traced down her leg and along the inside of her thigh. "If you give me up now it'll take three years to find another guy who knows how to do this," he slid his fingers inside her, "just how you like it." She moaned softly as he moved his fingers naturally the way she'd guided them so many times before.
Marlene ignored the first knock at the door easily, Sirius' lips brushing against hers, it was the third time that it became more difficult. By the fourth Sirius had rolled away, cursing, rushing around to pick up loose pieces of clothes.
"I don't think I can move," Marlene admitted – glued to the bed. Sirius was buttoning up his jeans as he turned to smirk at her.
"Don't move." He came over to the bed once more and kissed her before the fifth knock came. Marlene fell back into her pillow, eyes closed, basking in the late morning light. She didn't always get to start the day on such a high and yet, she could feel the end nearing. She listened as Sirius opened the front door and muffled voices echoed from down the hall.
"Get Marlene." Her stomach dropped with dread. Something had happened. Something terrible had happened. Sirius would not run back to her in bed, they wouldn't get another minute of bliss, another second to dream of a happy future.
Marlene was already grabbing track pants off the floor when Sirius entered the room, his face drawn. Remus was waiting in the living room, head bowed, to announce the death of the Minister of Magic.
It was late when Dorcas finally returned home, exhausted from the long, emotional day she'd endured. She expected to find Remus, asleep in bed, leftovers from dinner waiting for her in the fridge, but something was off. Remus wasn't sleeping in the bed when she checked the room and it didn't look like the kitchen had been touched all day.
Since Emmeline's party, they'd done little other than co-exist. They went to sleep in the same bed, and shared breakfast together in the mornings, and spent most of their time pretending there wasn't an ocean growing between them. Dorcas had taken to avoiding the apartment as much as she could in order to escape the crippling guilt that followed her whenever Remus was around.
It was an hour before Remus appeared, just after one in the morning, smelling of alcohol.
"Where have you been?"
"Out. Some of the boys wanted to go for drinks—"
"Sirius?" Dorcas inquired. She was happy to see the two boys made up, not that she wasn't well aware Sirius and James were keeping a massive secret from Remus…
"Yes, he was there. Peter and James as well."
"James was there?" Dorcas had expected that on today of all days the Potters would be keeping a low profile and staying within their Godric's Hollow cottage. She'd need to speak to Moody about increasing security around their movements now…
"Yes. He barely gets out now that they've had the baby."
"That's typical." Not really, Dorcas thought to herself, but she'd need to believe it looked that way if Remus was going to. He fell on the couch and she brought him over a tall glass of water to help ease the hangover he might meet in the morning.
"Where were you all day?"
"At the Minchum home." At least Dorcas could be honest about that. "Helping clear and search the scene."
"Sounds awful."
"It was," she sighed, resting her head on Remus' shoulder. The worst had been the children, two little girls, taken in fear. They'd had no role to play in such a nasty war and yet, they'd found themselves casualties nonetheless.
"Doe?" Remus whispered, as though she'd managed to fall asleep in a few minutes of silence.
"Mm?"
"I love you." Dorcas had to try and remember the last time she'd heard him say that. Too long, long enough that it made her heart soar to hear those three words again.
"I love you too." His hand was resting in his lap and she squeezed it tight.
"I would go mad if anything were to happen to you," he admitted. "It would be the end of me."
"Don't say that." She drew his hand to her lips. "No matter what happens to me I have a good feeling you will live a long and happy life, Remus Lupin." She looked up at him, smiling. "I'm usually right about these things."
"I don't want a long and happy life if you're not in it."
"I'll do my best to play a starring role," she promised him. She'd watched Emmeline struggle for months with her guilt over Gideon's death. She'd tortured herself for the pain she'd caused him. Dorcas never wanted that for Remus. She wanted him to be happy, whether she survived or not, and she wanted him to live. Knowing he would get a chance to enjoy all the things she'd given up hope for a long time ago offered comfort.
"I can tell you something for certain," Dorcas said, sitting up so they were eye to eye. "You're the one thing that has made this war bearable for me."
"That sounds like a goodbye."
"It isn't," she promised him, "just a thank you." They kissed, short and sweet, and as they pulled apart she saw his eyes studying her closely.
"No one has ever looked at me the way you do," he admitted, tears clouding his hazel eyes. "You're the only one…" She kissed him again to stop the tears. "Dorcas…"
"It's okay," she assured him, wiping one of his tears away with the side of her thumb. "Believe me, one day it will be easier." She couldn't be certain if she believed that. She prayed for the day that there could be no secrets between them, that every day at work was not a dance with death but it seemed a long road to "one day."
"How about I make us a cup of tea?" Dorcas suggested. "My mother gave me that tin of biscuits last time I visited." Remus was already grinning.
"The chocolate oatmeal ones?"
"Yes, you chocolate fiend." She kissed him before striding towards the kitchen to whip them something up. She was just pouring hot water into the teapot when she heard a knock at the door, which Remus attended to, and stepped into the living room to find Kingsley Shacklebolt removing his coat and hat.
"I didn't feel like being alone after the day we had," he explained. "It felt sad."
"We're just having a cup of tea," Dorcas informed him. "Join us."
"Got anything stronger?"
"An old bottle of Firewhiskey." Remus went to fetch it from the top cupboard in the kitchen where it stayed tucked away until it was much needed. Kingsley collapsed on the couch, sighing heavily, and Dorcas could feel the weight her friend bore upon his shoulders. They knew better than anyone else how exhausting the war was becoming, how hard it was to see their team of Aurors grow thinner by the week.
"How're you doing?" Dorcas asked when everyone was gathered around the living room, two cups of tea and a tall glass of Firewhiskey being enjoyed.
"Seeing his wife and kids was…"
"Awful," Dorcas agreed. Kingsley nodded, head bent so she couldn't quite catch the expression on his face.
"Thinking about Minchum having to see them all suffer…it just reminded me so much of Donovan's." There was a crack in Kingsley's voice as he recalled a memory both he and Dorcas fought so hard to repress. They spoke of the friends they had lost that night, yes, but rarely of the night itself, the absolute horror of it all.
"Me too."
"Do you remember Beatrice and Cleo?" Kingsley recalled.
"Callister and Figgs? How could I forget those two, always sneaking around like we were idiots." Beatrice and Cleo had been an item within a few months of working together. They'd been new recruits, brought in at the same time in early 1977. By the time of Donovan's fire they'd been Aurors for over a year but back then they still felt fresh.
"Those two were fucking brilliant in the field, weren't they?"
"Always had each other's backs," Dorcas agreed.
"We lost five people from our team that day. Five bloody people that we'll never get back." Kingsley shook his head ruefully, taking another sip from his glass. "If we could've saved them that night…"
"We couldn't have," Dorcas protested.
"We could have. If we'd been doing our job, if we'd been keeping an eye on Voldemort the way the Death Eaters kept an eye on us from the start…"
"The what-ifs will kill you," Remus piped in. "They go on forever. What if we'd known? What if we could've saved them? You didn't, though, and you'll never get them back." Kingsley's face seemed to only grow longer. "I know because my whole life has been wondering what if, what if Greyback had never bit me, what if I'd had the chance to be normal?"
Dorcas reached out to give Remus' thigh a comforting squeeze, reminding him that she wouldn't change him for the world. She wouldn't rather him any other way, to her he was perfect just as.
"They're just…gone," Kingsley admitted sadly. "And there is nothing we can ever do to fix it."
"We can live," Dorcas told him, "and we can beat the shit out of those Death Eater bastards." Everyone in the room shared a quiet laugh.
"Well, that's the most that any of us can hope for," Remus shrugged.
"One day we'll be able to honour all that they gave up so that we could be free. Free from all the war and death that has seemed to plague us for the past few years. It might not make it easier for us but the ones that follow, they'll understand the sacrifice Cleo and Beatrice made." Dorcas hoped she was right, not just for those in Donovan's they'd lost, but for all of their sakes.
Emmeline rose from bed naked, stretching her arms above her head. When she looked over her shoulder she saw Sirius watching, a smirk on his face she hadn't seen such they were teenagers.
"Enjoying the view?" Emmeline teased him, reaching down for her shirt and pants.
"Hey, after twelve years of nothing to look at but the four walls of my cell and the Dementors that served my meals, I'll take what I can get."
"So is the Azkaban stint going to be milked for the rest of your days?"
"Until I'm not forced to live like a prisoner."
"Most prisoners don't get to enjoy this, I thought?" she asked, turning to Sirius before she threw on her shirt so he got a clear view of her chest. He grinned.
"Do you have to leave?" Sirius asked, sitting up in bed, the blankets pulled halfway up his bare chest.
"I've got work! I didn't get to go to prison for twelve years, my trust fund has long since run thin."
"Are you actually saying you'd prefer Azkaban to working?"
"Maybe," Emmeline shrugged, knowing how much it would irritate him if she said so. He rolled his eyes, turning over to grab a cigarette off the side table.
"Stay for just one," he suggested. "I'll behave myself." She was already late for work. Emmeline knew she should've said no, that she was right to leave now and avoid a scolding from her boss, but she couldn't. She'd seen a light come back to Sirius during the visits they'd shared, a part of him she thought must have been missing since she'd seen him last…when all he'd loved had been taken.
"Just one," Emmeline obliged, crawling back across the bed to her side. "Then I've really got to go." It was a Tuesday, the eighteenth of June. Emmeline had come to Grimmauld Place the night before and fallen asleep when she'd been meant to head home. She hadn't minded, Sirius' company had been nice and she figured he felt the same.
"What are your plans for the day?" she asked him, legs stretched out across his.
"Read, feed Buckbeak, get drunk."
"Riveting."
Sirius laughed. "At the moment my only company is Kreacher and I'm sure you can imagine how much fun he is."
"Oh, he loves me," Emmeline assured him. "I've heard him muttering about my whorish tendencies more than once."
"Really? Who knew Kreacher was such a conservative!"
"He is definitely not a fan of sex before marriage, I'll tell you that much."
"Well, we were both sinners long before today," Sirius remarked, making one of his rare and vague references to his life with Marlene. Emmeline wondered how often he thought of it, how much pain it caused every time he recalled the future they'd planned that would never be. Emmeline thought of her every time she let Sirius take her in his arms and hold her the way he used to hold Marlene so many years ago.
Marlene would've murdered her were she alive now. She was angry enough when Emmeline had mistakenly slept with Sirius – unaware of the romance between them - what would she say now? Seeing them together? Lying with one another the way Sirius was supposed to only lie with her?
"Uh-oh," Sirius commented, drawing Emmeline back into the present. "You're thinking hard about something."
"Remembering," Emmeline corrected him.
"Ah," Sirius inhaled sharply. "Dwelling on the past is a curse, one it seems we've all been burdened with."
"Yes," Emmeline agreed. "But I suppose that's all any of us will have?" She hadn't thought about it much until now, their inability to move past what had happened to them and all they had lost. They'd failed, all of them – Sirius, Remus, and Emmeline – to escape the first war and build a life.
"Maybe," Sirius agreed, "I'm glad we found this, at least." He gave her free hand a squeeze.
"But you'd give it up to go back, wouldn't you?" Emmeline turned to him to find his mouth hanging open in shock. "I'd give it all up if it meant having her back," she admitted, "I'd give up my left arm to have her back for just one more day." It was the truth, that the comfort in Sirius was his connection to all those people Emmeline had spent fourteen years missing.
"She was the reason I finally left home," Sirius admitted. Emmeline was shocked to have him do more than brush off her memory.
"What?"
"I was staying with James for a few weeks, but before I went back home she…" Sirius gulped as though trying to swallow back his feelings. "She told me she thought I was the bravest person she'd met. She was quite drunk, to be fair, but she…she saw me. Past all the sarcasm and the jaded humour right into the heart of the scared little boy I was. So the next time my dad tried to discipline me I decided to be the guy she thought I was."
Emmeline's cigarette had burnt down to a stub, ash hanging from the end of it, but she hardly noticed. She could only imagine the scared sixteen-year-old boy that had fled this home of terror so many years ago.
"She made you a man," Emmeline smiled proudly.
"She did," Sirius agreed. "She did a lot of things…a lot of great things…" He looked down in shame. "Harry hasn't the slightest idea who she was."
"So tell him," Emmeline insisted. "James would've wanted him to know!"
"I know."
"She wasn't just another soldier."
"I know."
"She was family. She would've been Harry's family had she lived."
"I know."
"So will you tell him?" Emmeline asked hopefully. "You're the only one who can do it, Sirius, it's why the rest of us haven't dared." If the didn't tell her story, if they didn't pass along the tales of Marlene's bravery and compassion, her memory would simply fade. No one would remember that she and James had been two peas in a pod. No one would know that she had been the strongest supporter of Lily and James. Her life would be forgotten, just like the others, the war had stolen.
"I'll do it," Sirius finally agreed, Emmeline sighing with relief. "The next time he's here—"
She leapt forward, throwing her arms around him, not caring about the ash which tumbled onto his bed sheets. "Thank you," she whispered as they drew apart, both startled by the emotion of the moment. Emmeline got up after that and hurried to make herself presentable for work.
Sirius was still lying in bed when she left, turning to look behind her before she walked out the door, getting one last glimpse of the shaggy-haired boy she'd known in so many forms for the past twenty-five years.
"Should I come by tomorrow?" Emmeline suggested. "Offer some company?"
"Sounds nice," he agreed, smiling.
Of course, tomorrow never came, for this would be Sirius Black's last day.
