Disclaimer:

I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. I've written J.K. Rowling and asked if I could adopt them, but she hasn't written me back yet, so I'm guessing the answer is no...

2.

Sirius didn't think he could move. His eyelids were far too heavy to lift, and he felt sick from just thinking about opening them. The sharp stab of pain from his broken ribs was reduced to a twinge if he didn't move and kept his breathing light, and that's exactly what he did. His entire body ached, and he knew from experience that it would only hurt worse when he moved... but he had to pee. He groaned. Getting up was the last thing he wanted to do right now, but damn, if he didn't it was very likely that he would wet the bed...

He took a breath to steel himself, it wasn't as deep as he would have liked because if his ribs, but it would have to do. Very slowly he sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes the whole time. He winced and gasped as a wave of pain washed over him, but was a bit surprised by the fact that the pain wasn't nearly as bad as the stiffness in his joints as they bent and unbent. He felt like an old man. He sat there for a moment, letting the pain run its course and wondering if this was what Remus felt like the morning after the full moon. He hoped not.

When his heart rate had slowed and he had his breathing under control, he realized he had to open his eyes to find his way to the bathroom. He'd been in James' house the summer before for about a week, so he knew the general layout, but he didn't trust himself to find his way to the bathroom blind without running into something or falling down the stairs. So very slowly and very carefully he forced his eyes open.

Sunlight streamed into the room through the window and by the look of it, it was mid-morning, maybe closer to noon. Sirius stopped to listen and could hear voices down stairs; the Potters. He stood with some difficulty and hobbled to the bathroom. After he'd used the toilet, he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. The left side of his face from the eye down was one big bruise. The eye itself was swollen, but not too badly. His nose wasn't broken, and he supposed he was lucky for that. The rain the night before had washed off any blood that had been on his face, but he still felt grimy, dirty. He needed a shower.

The hot water felt good on his back, easing the tense muscles. If he hadn't been standing up he would have fallen asleep. Forty five minutes later he turned off the tap and stepped out. He could still hear voices down stairs, but they were louder now... agitated. Quickly, as quickly as his aching body could manage, he dried off, put his clothes back on, and made his way downstairs.

He tried to be as quiet as possible, his ears straining to hear what they were saying. He couldn't quite make it out. There were three of them; a low, curt voice, and a higher, calmer one. Sirius guessed them to be Mr. and Mrs. Potter. But the third voice was high and shrieking and undeniably angry. Who was that? It definitely wasn't James. Hesitantly he entered the kitchen and saw-

His mother.

"I can't have him?" she shrieked. "What do you mean, I can't have him? He's my son! He's mine and I am taking him home right now!"

Sirius felt the breath catch in his chest. He didn't want to go home-

"And what are you going to do with your son once he's home?" said Mrs. Potter in that polite voice that only women could pull off; the stiff little tone that was only polite on the surface.

"He killed his father!" Walburga Black screeched. "What do you think I'll do with him?"

Sirius wasn't able to stifle his gasp- didn't want to- and four heads turned to stare at him.

"You," his mother seethed, baring her teeth and looking remarkably like Padfoot.

"He's dead?" Sirius asked, ignoring how hoarse and quiet his voice was.

"You pushed him down a flight of stairs and left him lying there," she spat. "What did you expect?" When Sirius failed to reply, she elaborated. "He died this morning in St. Mungo's. If you'd stopped, if you'd tried to help him, we could have gotten him there sooner. If you'd cared, he would have been fine. But you didn't, you little bastard, and now he's dead. You killed him."

"Mum, no-" Sirius said. He had to force the words out because his throat had grown tight.

She stalked over to him and grabbed his upper arm, ignoring Sirius' gasp of pain, and pulled him towards the door. "And now you're coming home with me and you're going to stay there," she hissed. "I'm going to lock you up where no one will ever see you so you can't embarrass me further, so you can't kill anyone else in the family, because merlin knows you want to-"

"Mum, just listen, please-" Sirius said, twisting in her grip. It hurt, he wanted her to let go, but after what he'd done to his father he was afraid to make her.

"You're not taking him anywhere," said Mrs. Potter, her voice quiet and cold. "You want to punish him? He's done nothing to deserve it."

"I told you. He killed his father!" She let go of Sirius' arm.

"From what my son has told me," she gestured to James who was leaning against the counter with his arms folded and an angry scowl on his face, "and from what I can see on Sirius' face, it was self-defense. Would you agree, Sirius?"

"Yes," he answered faintly, nodding.

"If you insist Sirius be punished for protecting himself," Mrs. Potter said over Sirius' mother who'd started to argue. "Then we'll take this to court, and the entire wizarding world will know how terrible the Black family really is, and they'll finally have proof." She pointed to the bruises on Sirius' face, to the red handprint on his bicep. "And I assure you, Sirius will walk. But you? I don't really know. How much time in Azkaban do you think an abusive mother deserves?"

"I never touched him!" she shrieked.

"No, but you never did anything to stop his father, did you?"

Walburga's eyes narrowed, but she didn't answer. Instead she said, "You're blackmailing me?"

"If that's how you want to look at it, then yes," Mrs. Potter said almost pleasantly. "Sirius stays here, you stay quiet. Simple as that."

"Fine," she spat, quaking with fury and positively fuming. "Keep the worthless little murderer. Merlin knows, I don't want him," she threw Sirius a disgusted look, "so don't expect me to take him back when you get tired of him." With that, she spun on her heal and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

The Potters and Sirius stayed where they were for a moment. No one said anything. When Sirius finally peeled his eyes from the door, he looked down at the floor beneath his feet. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Don't mention it, dear," Mrs. Potter sighed. "Now come with me and I'll fix you up." She walked passed him on her way out of the kitchen and he followed dutifully.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

James knocked on the guest room door softly.

"Yeah?" came Sirius' gruff voice.

James opened the door a bit and stuck his head in. The sun had gone down, but Sirius hadn't bothered to turn on the light. James could make out his form on the bed, blurry in the twilight. "Hey mate," he said. "Mum says supper's finished if you're hungry."

"I'm not hungry," Sirius said softly. "But tell her I said thanks anyway."

James hesitated. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what Sirius needed more right now; a friend or some time alone. He decided on the former, and went to sit on the bed. James looked at him, searching for something to say. Even in the dark, he could see the wonders his mother had done healing Sirius. The bruises on his face were barely there anymore, and he breathed easily as his ribs were no longer broken. But he laid still, one arm thrown over his eyes.

"Are you all right?" James asked, knowing the answer but asking anyway.

"No," Sirius said, his voice a shaky, breathless whine.

After a moment James asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

"No."

James sighed. "You sure?"

"Just leave me alone, James, please?" Sirius asked, his voice still trembling and breathless, but it had lost its whine.

"All right," James sighed, and stood. Everything inside him was screaming, telling him that Sirius needed something, needed help he just didn't know what to do- "Good night," he said.

"Night," Sirius mumbled.

James sighed after he closed the door behind him. He knew- knew that Sirius needed something. The last five years, whenever Sirius had been down, James had always managed to cheer him up- usually by making an idiot out of himself and lending them both in detention- but this time was different and James wasn't stupid enough to miss that. He knew he wouldn't be able to fix this by making Sirius laugh, but he didn't know what else to do. James needed help almost as much as Sirius did, and it wasn't very hard to come up with someone who could.

James strode purposefully toward his bedroom. He had a letter to write.