Year of the Wolf

11. The Grove

The Muggle world continued as it always had. Around him, families emerged from cafés and restaurants, individuals stumbled from closing shops, arms laden with last-minute Christmas purchases. The sun had begun to set, light fading quickly. A few snowflakes fell to join the ice on the street but still London carried on as usual.

Sirius didn't know how far he walked, only that he stopped when he was sure that nobody was following him, and that they would never find him. It was on a bridge that he rested, legs dangling over the edge through the railings, with the traffic rumbling past behind him. It was cold, damn cold, and he wore nothing over his shirt. His winter cloak was inside his bag but he couldn't be bothered to dig it out. The cold helped, a little. It stung his cheeks, brought some feeling to the numbness within.

He sat there until the street lamps flickered on and the sun sank closer to the horizon. He didn't think about anything in particular, didn't feel the relief he had expected. He just felt cold and hungry and empty.

With trembling hands, he pulled a small mirror out of one of the pockets of his bag. Gazing at his reflection, he saw that he looked much older than he had that morning, with darkening circles beneath his eyes and a general look of sorrow about him. A few snowflakes clung to his black hair, and his cheeks flushed red against the chill. Carefully, he touched a finger to the angry cut on his cheek, wincing at the momentary sting as it made contact. Always the face. He almost laughed.

Suddenly, his reflection vanished, replaced momentarily with the edge of a Puddlemere United poster and a portion of the head of a black-haired, hazel-eyed boy with glasses. Sirius quickly covered the mirror and shoved it back into his bag. James appeared not to have seen him.

His throat tightened as the air grew a little colder. He missed James, and Remus, and Peter. He missed Marlene and her empty flirtation, Mary and her fierce Quidditch spirit. He even missed Evans and the way she could make James smile just by being in the same room. He missed McGonagall and Slughorn, missed the Hogwarts dormitory.

And suddenly, he had a plan.

Hoisting his bag onto his shoulders, he walked far enough down the road that there were no Muggles about, and raised his wand arm into the road.

Seconds later, with a bang that made him jump, the Knight Bus sped around the corner and came to a stop right in front of him. The bus may not have been able to go to the school, he wouldn't know, but it would go to Hogsmeade no doubt. He could explain to the teachers what had happened, or even just say nothing at all and hide in the dormitory for the rest of the holidays. The peace and quiet would be most welcomed, and maybe he could get all this nasty stuff out of his system before the others returned.

'Evening, young sir,' greeted the conductor. 'Just you is it?' Sirius nodded. 'Very well, where are we off to?'

'The Grove,' he said automatically. 'Upper Maplethorpe, just outside Winchester.'

It didn't even hit him that he had given the wrong destination until he had paid and sat down and the bus was on its way. And there was little energy left in him to repair his mistake, so he just lay back on the bed, realising that this was probably all some horrible dream anyway and none of it would really matter.

The conductor was deep in conversation with another passenger and didn't trouble him, but the swaying of the bus and the thoughts that swirled inside his increasingly foggy mind were enough to keep him awake.

Were they looking for him right now? Would he arrive at his destination to find his entire family there, demanding that he return home? Would he be strong enough to refuse if they were? He liked to think so, but he didn't feel so strong right now.

'Upper Maplethorpe,' called the conductor a little while later, as the bus trundled down a quiet country lane. He thanked both the conductor and the driver quietly as he alighted, and waited until the bus disappeared with another bang before he stepped up to the gate before him.

The Potters' home was a rather modest place of residence for their wealth. While technically a mansion, it more closely resembled a large cottage, with expansive grounds and a charming maple grove at the back. Indeed, the plaque on the gate read "The Grove", and he had many memories of chasing James through it, laughing as they zipped between the trees on their broomsticks.

Snow was falling in Hampshire, and a soft white powder had settled over the hedges and on the roof.

As he made his way up the path to the front door, startled momentarily by the impish giggling of a gnome stalking a small rabbit, he saw that there were still lights on inside, though the curtains were drawn and he could not see in.

It was at the door, a fist raised to knock, that he felt his strength fail him. What would he say? What was he to do? It was instinct that had brought him here, and now guilt told him to walk away, to not trouble them with his problems and just find somewhere else. If he called back the Knight Bus, he was sure he could get up to Ilkley and stay with Andromeda and Ted - of course, they had the baby and he'd very likely just be intruding upon their Christmas.

Gathering what little strength remained, he knocked smartly on the door. If they didn't hear, if the door didn't open, then he'd find somewhere else, as cold and hungry as he was.

But the lock clicked, and the door opened, and there stood Mrs. Potter with a smile that faded quickly when she laid eyes upon him.

'Sirius!'

Almost immediately, he began to regret imposing himself upon her and her family.

Without another word, she pulled him into the house and into her arms, the door slamming shut behind him and his bag falling to the floor. The warmth within the house was nothing compared to the warmth within her arms, and he hugged her back greedily, desperate for every last drop of it. And something strange began inside of him. As the pressure in his sinuses returned, every last emotion that had been roused by the confrontation of that day tried to force itself out of him, it seemed, through his nose and through his eyes. And suddenly, he was crying into her shoulder, basking in the affection she showered him with. It almost hurt, this fire to his frozen senses.

'Oh, my darling boy.'

She held him tighter as he gripped the back of her dress, and suddenly he was not sixteen, he was six, and he was alone and afraid and desperate for love, affection, anything that would make it all better, that would make up for the last sixteen years. He had never felt anything like this before, had never been held like a child, like someone really, truly cared enough about him that they wanted to chase all the bad feelings away.

'It's okay,' Mrs. Potter soothed. One hand was in his hair, the other gently rubbing his back, her lips close enough to his ear that he heard her whispers clearly. 'It's okay, honey, it's okay.'

He was not even ashamed of the blatant weakness he displayed, just held tightly on to her as the tears continued to come with great heaving sobs.

When they finally pulled apart, he felt incredibly weak and drained, like there was nothing left in him, like the shock of his parents' indifference had just melted away.

Her hands were on his cheeks now and she brushed his tears away quickly, evidently as aware of the others behind her as he was. For a moment, she thumbed the circles beneath his eyes, careful not to touch the cut on his cheek, and he felt a second wave, felt fresh tears spill out over her hands as his eyes scrunched shut and lips curled back from emotion not yet expended. He had opened the floodgates and there was no stopping it now.

'Come on,' she urged quietly. 'Let's go sit down.' He nodded before she pulled him in for one last, brief hug and turned momentarily, her business face on. 'James, can you take his bag upstairs please? Just put it in your room. Honey, get him a hot drink; the poor dear's shivering.'

He felt James retrieve the bag at his feet, but he could not look at him. Perhaps he felt no embarrassment now, but he would later and it would be better for them both if they did not lock eyes.

The comforting heat of the roaring fire hit him immediately as Mrs. Potter led him through to the sitting room and over to the settee and he sat halfway down. She disappeared for a moment then returned with a blanket, which she placed around his shoulders and began to rub his arms through it once she was seated beside him.

'What on Earth were you thinking?' she chastised, though her voice was still gentle and kind. 'Out there with no cloak in this weather. You'll catch your death of cold!'

Sirius did not flinch. Her calm remonstrations were welcomed, like balm to the wounds left by the harsh words he was so used to. These weren't born from a desire to hurt or punish him, but from genuine worry and concern.

Mr. Potter returned with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, which he forced into Sirius's hands. The ceramic was warm to the touch and chased life into his frozen fingers. Not another word was said as he sipped at the beverage, before downing it in great gulps that burned his tongue and throat. Perhaps Mr. Potter had mixed a potion into it, because it warmed every inch of him and gave him back just a little of his strength.

Emotions, it turned out, were very exhausting things. He felt like he had run a marathon, when really he had just been fighting back the horrible sticky mess he had dissolved into after his mother's damning words.

James returned, pausing in the doorway. Perhaps against his better judgement, Sirius looked up and saw that his friend was just as white as he himself had appeared in the mirror, and he wasn't full of the joy he was so used to seeing upon their reunions. When James moved, he chose the empty space beside Sirius on the settee, to his right. But he still said nothing, though it looked very much like he wanted to.

Mr. Potter took the empty mug away and pulled a footstool up to the settee to sit upon when he returned.

'If you don't want to talk,' said Mrs. Potter, her hand grasping his tightly, 'we aren't going to force you. It looks like you've been through enough tonight, darling, but whatever it is, whatever brought you here, we want to help.'

Mr. Potter nodded in agreement, and maybe it was this that finally gave him the push to speak.

He told them everything, every little snippet that would be of some relevance, as though he needed to justify what he had done. It was an unpleasant history, from Andromeda's encouragement of his independent thinking, through her disowning and how proud he was that he ended up in Gryffindor, that there was finally proof that he was different to them all. He took them through the years of showing his pride in his difference and his parents' increasingly hostile attitude towards him. When he ended with the words that had carved out the part of him that kept him with them, he didn't think he could speak another word.

'-I just couldn't stay there. I'd had enough.'

James hit his wrist against his knee in a repetitive motion, and Mr. Potter rested his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his nose and mouth, his eyes closed. He felt the hand that had ceased rubbing his arm at the mention of the Cruciatus curse move again, and the grip that had numbed his recently-thawed fingers loosened.

'You are worth a hundred of them,' Mr. Potter said. He had moved his hands and reached over to squeeze Sirius's knee. 'Walburga was right, they do not deserve you - you deserve a far better family than the Blacks.' There was a tone of bitter anger to his voice that Sirius had never heard before. 'I am sorry that you have had to live with this.'

"Sorry about your family" was a sentiment he heard often, but it had never really meant much to him before now.

'But you don't have to any more.' It was James that spoke, and his voice was as cold as the winter outside. 'You are never going back there. Ever!'

He barked these last words with a bite of terrifying fury, and he looked to each of his parents with a dangerous look in his eyes, as though he dared them to disagree. He had never seen James quite so worked up, had never thought him capable of anger to this degree.

Mrs. Potter just smiled and moved her right hand to Sirius's hair.

'No,' she agreed. 'This is your home now. We're your family.'

It was what he had wanted, for so many years, yet now that it was here, it felt like he had been missing the obvious all this time.

'You always have been,' he said gratefully.

Mrs. Potter made a sound quite like a gasp and pulled him towards her, pressing her lips to his temple. He didn't care that his best friend was sitting beside him and could see all this - he had never felt a mother's love quite like this before and he couldn't get enough of it. He just wanted her to hold him some more and tell him that it was all going to be okay, and he didn't care if that made him a child or a baby or whatever, he just knew that he needed this, that he was owed it for all the years of it that he had missed out on.

James's wrist hurt from all the writing. Fast scribbles, barely legible, but he'd managed to get the letters written - one to Remus, one to Peter, and one to Andromeda which he sent with Sirius's owl when she arrived.

It had been a funny sort of night. There he was, just working on school stuff, when the doorbell rang and his curiosity got the better of him. He had never expected to see his best friend crying into his mother's shoulder, and quite frankly the sight had frightened him. The closest he had ever seen Sirius to crying was in the Shrieking Shack, and even then he had been too stubborn to succumb. Tears of laughter were another thing, but Sirius was very closed emotionally, preferring to internalise things and hide with his thoughts when he felt that he was close to breaking.

James had always been rather open emotionally, so it was strange to him. Remus was like a stubborn machine of normalcy, shrugging off everything like it was no big deal, but James had thrown many a big tantrum in his childhood and had just grown used to being open with what he felt, with talking things through when he had a problem.

And he decided then that he never ever wanted to see Sirius Black cry again, even if that meant he was to dedicate his entire life to making sure that it didn't happen. It was just too horrible, just felt too wrong.

On top of everything else, he had never seen his parents so furious. His mother had wanted to go to the Ministry and make the Blacks - or at the very least Bellatrix - pay. She had calmed when he explained that he knew Sirius better than her, and what he would want more than anything would be for this whole mess to just blow over and for him to never have to see his family again - if she went to the Ministry, even with their contacts it would mean going through the courts possibly for months, putting Sirius in direct contact with the Blacks as they dragged his name and reputation through the mud in their defence. She had agreed and hugged him, and told him in a proud sort of voice that she often forgot how mature he had become.

Mr. Potter, on the other hand, wanted to march down to Grimmauld Place and hex every last member of the Black family, but James didn't think that would help much either (as much as he wanted to join him).

They always had cared for Sirius's well-being just as much as they cared for his. It was a good thing, really, because Orion and Walburga had hardly seemed to bother.

He was sitting on his bed by the window, thinking about what had just happened, when Sirius entered his room, hair still damp from the bath Mrs. Potter had forced him to take. He looked a damn sight better than he did when he first arrived; there was a little more colour to his cheeks, and speaking of cheeks, that horrible red cut had been completely healed.

'Thanks for...' he started to say, one hand shoved in his pyjama pocket, the other waving carelessly.

'Don't mention it,' James said.

'I'm sorry about all that,' Sirius continued with an embarrassed little sigh. 'I just...lost it.'

James shook his head, hoping that it conveyed the fact that he never, ever had to be sorry for something like that.

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes fixed on the duvet.

'Your mum's brilliant,' he said quietly. James was inclined to agree. 'Your dad too. You're very lucky.'

He wanted to say that it wasn't luck, but he didn't entirely agree with that, not after knowing the kind of people Sirius had grown up with.

'Well now you're lucky too,' he told him. 'She meant what she said about family.'

A smile appeared, lighting up Sirius's entire face. It was as genuine as James had ever seen and he found that he was smiling too.

With another sigh, a little less loaded this time, Sirius lay back on the bed.

'You'd be well within your rights to say "I told you so",' he said.

James swallowed and looked down into his hands.

'You know what, mate?' he said. 'I really don't want to. I'm glad you're out of there, that's all.'

There were footsteps in the hallway outside his room, and his mother appeared at the door a moment later.

'Oh,' she said in faint surprise, pausing for a moment before she entered. 'So this is how we're sleeping tonight? Very well, under the covers.'

Sirius looked at him, but James just rolled his eyes and wriggled his way under the duvet.

'Have you both brushed your teeth?'

'Yes, mum.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, mum!'

'Just checking.'

His bed was fortunately big enough for two to share comfortably, even at their age, though he anticipated a duvet tug-of-war if it got chilly during the night. And just tonight, maybe he wouldn't try so hard to win.

Mrs. Potter pulled the duvet up over both of them and leaned over the bed to pull the curtains shut, blocking out the moonlight. She then reached over to pluck his glasses from his face and took the opportunity to kiss him on the nose.

'Mum!' he complained, squashing himself back into his pillow. She smiled in amusement. He never complained about her kisses, but he was lying next to his best friend here - she knew better than to take the twisted face personally.

'Thank you,' Sirius said in a voice that was almost a whisper. 'For everything. For letting me stay, and for...'

He shifted uncomfortably and James suddenly felt a little less embarrassed. There was more he wanted to say, he knew it, but he too was lying next to his best friend, and appearances were appearances.

'Don't be so silly, love,' she said, placing a hand on his cheek and looking down at him with the same softness to her eyes that she often gazed at her son with. 'You'll always have a home here.'

And she bent down and kissed his forehead before dousing the candle at the bedside and leaving them to sleep.

James expected Sirius to say something when they were alone, but he remained silent and unmoving. It was so unlike their sleepovers of the summer, where they would often just pretend to sleep and then sneak out when his parents were in bed. They never got up to much more than they did in the daytime, but there was an exciting edge to the usual activities when they should have been somewhere else.

With his mind too full to sleep, James stared at the ceiling, wondering what happened now. Would the Blacks just leave Sirius with them? Would it interfere with school at all? He hoped that the others would receive his letters in time - he couldn't bear the thought of Sirius waking to no presents on Christmas day after all that had happened. There was his, of course, and James's parents usually sent a little something, but James often received a rather sizeable pile of gifts and he didn't want it to feel like he was rubbing it in.

There was a change to the rhythm of the silence and James was snapped from his thoughts. Sirius's breathing had suddenly become erratic, like he was fighting something back, or on the edge of something unpleasant. Without thinking, James moved his hand, finding a warm arm beneath the covers and he gripped it gently. The breathing steadied almost immediately. Sirius sniffed in the darkness.

Yes, he was away from his family, in a new and much warmer home now. It just may take some time, James realised, to convince him of that.

AN - Thanks for reading! And thanks to PhoenixFireHope, RodeoTown and the Guest for the reviews on the last chapter! I say it all the time but I really do appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think.

Love you all, and please continue to review!