Disclaimer: All characters belong to the Queen - aka JK Rowling. I am just... borrowing them. Temporarily.

So far: Lily lost a teddy bear just as they were leaving school. James found it, and after much trouble on the train ride, she insults him and he throws it in her face. Lily and Sirius have discovered they do not hate each other. The summer begins.

Chapter 4

Or

Of a Black's Freedom and His Letters

Dear Evans,

I feel odd writing to you, but I've already written two letters to Moony Remus and Wor Peter, and three letters to your arch-nemesis, Mr. Potter. I would hate to bother them further, especially since it is only the second day of vacation. As I found that you are much more interesting than just an average, rule-abiding bird, I have decided to give this thing between us a shot.

Shit. That sounded like a line. Rest assured, Evans, that I do not plan on getting in your pants. For one, the aforementioned Mr. Potter will definitely kill me in my sleep if I ever do, and secondly, I'm pretty sure you would too.

Anyway, how's your summer been? Mine's been dreadful, in case you couldn't figure it out from the fact that I'm writing my eighth letter within two days. The old hag won't stop buggering, and the little one is being more annoying than usual. He received perfect grades, the brat. Then again, so did I, but I don't see her exactly bragging about my accomplishments. She's still in shock over the fact that I'm in the wrong house, I think.

What are you planning this summer? You have a sister, right? What's she like? Is she fit?

That last one was a joke.

Sirius Black the Humble

Dear Black, (the Humble, really?)

If you feel odd writing to me, it's nothing compared to how I feel writing to you. I hardly ever write letters during the summer, as my friends and I schedule at least three meetings in advance and keep doing so throughout the summer. In fact, the only letters I remember are those I write during the school year, and they are addressed to my parents. This feeling is very much worsened by the fact that just a few days ago, I wouldn't have answered your letter at all. You wouldn't have written me in the first place, probably. But if you must know, I have found that you're endurable. Don't tell anyone.

When you say "the old hag", I assume you mean your actual old hag, and not your mother, of course. And James Potter, just to be clear, is not my arch nemesis. I just think that he's a huge git, and I'm right, aren't I?

I'm glad you know that I would kill you if you ever try to get in my pants, by the way. But I would not be so kind as to do it in your sleep. I just hope you know that if you ever try to sleep with me, I am likely to torture you until you beg for death.

Or something.

I am sorry for your bad summer. I know only as much as anybody else – the rumors about you are hard to avoid, you know – and that includes your dislike for your brother and the fact that you never go home for the holidays, unless you're going to Potter's, of course. I must say, I'm not having the best summer ever myself. My sister and I – well, you did ask – we don't get along. In fact, she pretty much hates me. But seeing my parents is good. I've missed them both very dearly – I didn't go back even once this year, at my sister's "request". She has this awful boyfriend she's been bringing over, apparently, at every single opportunity. His name is Samuel, which is a perfectly fine name, but the guy is simply atrocious. And he seems to be nothing more than a shell of a human being, too.

Well, enough ranting for now. I think I'm going to let you actually receive this letter, and besides, I'm starving.

I hope your summer improves,

Lily.

P.S. I probably should have mentioned this in the letter itself, but besides meeting with my friends, I don't have any plans for this summer. What about you?

Sirius Black wasn't the type to never leave his room. In fact, he was constantly moving – fidgeting, and flying, and running. Especially in the last year, when he had found that changing into a dog whenever he was running made it much easier.

But despite this, he had been lying, on his bed, in his room, for four days now, without so much moving a muscle, besides eating and visiting the loo.

Occasionally, he would choose a different book, or change the station on the radio.

He certainly never talked to anyone. But he could hear them. Merlin's pants, he could feel them. They were walking around the house, so confident, so… terrible.

He hated them all, and perhaps he shouldn't have because they were family, but he did.

They didn't feel like family.

He remembered how at the end of last summer he had left the room covered in Gryffindor flags and anti-pureblood posters when he went to school. He wondered where that all went – it probably all got thrown straight to the bin by Kreacher, or shredded into nothingness with magic that his dear mother performed.

"Bitch," he murmured under his breath. "You're a disgrace", his mother's immediate and only letter had said.

But really, the fault was in them.

It had to be them.

Dear Padfoot,

Would you please stop sending me ten letters a day? I know how terrible it is over there, but really, you should just come visit me instead. I've been incredibly bored – if it weren't for Wormtail stopping by yesterday, I would be on my fourth book right now. Fancy going to Diagon Alley and maybe going to that ice cream shop you love so much? Tomorrow, elven o'clock? I'm simply going to assume the answer is yes, by the way, so don't, Agrippa's sake, stand me up. I'll be expecting you whether you send me a letter or not, Padfoot.

Yesterday, by the way, was fine. We were both feeling too lazy to actually go anywhere, so we ended up playing chess. He beat me twice, and then we had lunch, and he beat me again, before we decided to take the board outside, where I beat him twice and he beat me thrice. Thrice is a word that mean three times, by the way.

Do you know what's going on with Remus? He hasn't responded to my letters, and the full moon isn't till the ninth, two whole days from now. I checked.

The worst of this summer is yet to come. But when this heat passes, we'll all be okay, I'm sure.

Prongs

Dear Prongs,

You're a git. Even I remember that Moony is on that trip with his parents, and that they're not going to be back until the morning before the full moon, and I spend most of my time ignoring him. He'll probably send you a letter after the full moon. And again, even I didn't send him any letters after the first couple of days. And I know what thrice means. The fact that you just discovered the meaning of it today has nothing to do with my intelligence. Git.

I'll be there, by the way, with a purse full of any bit of money I can nick. I want to redecorate my room.

Padfoot

James had definitely endured a number of boring summers, but when, just a few nights after seeing him last, Sirius appeared on his doorstep at one A.M., he knew his summer wasn't going to be anything like previous ones.

He took a step forward. "What happened?" he asked, his voice cautious.

Sirius grinned, and his mouth was bloody. "My mum didn't approve of me redecorating." He paused and, no longer grinning, he added, "I'm never going back."

James nodded. "You know where the spare bedroom is," he said. "We'll talk to my parents – and clean you up – in the morning."

Sirius nodded gratefully, and, dragging his trunk, he started making his way up the stairs.

"Sirius?" James said suddenly.

Sirius turned around, his expression so tired it would have broken anybody's heart.

"Just so you know… I'm always here for you," he said quietly.

Sirius nodded. "I know. And…" he hesitated. "Me too. Definitely."

Dear Lily,

I don't know when we switched to first name basis, but your last letter – with no less than three "Sirius"-es appearing in it – has made this clear. Don't mind me, but I actually grew sort of fond of your last name, and I'm going to need to get used to using your first name when talking to you, and your last name when talking to Pr James. I know, I know you hate him – and we really are jerks sometimes. It's amazing you're even talking to me – but he is my best mate, and he, despite everything, does mention you every once in a while.

I'm living with him now. Have been for a couple of weeks.

It just sort of happened, really – his folks are my guardians now, too, and the information on how that happened has eluded me so far. I just – I couldn't stand being trapped there anymore, with that awful house-elf, and the self-entitled little one, and especially, I got so sick of my mother. So I hung up a bunch of Gryffindor flags, got a punch from my dearest dad, and splinched myself by disapparating to James' place. Really, it wasn't too terrible though, so don't lose your head worrying – we didn't even notice a bunch of my hair was missing until the next morning, when there was definitely less than usual. Really, my only regret is that I forgot my broomstick back at the old place. It was a wonderful comet that I had received for my birthday from uncle Alphard.

Anyway, James' place is nice, but boring. It's in this town called Godric's Hollow (yes, that Godric), and you should really not bother trying to figure out if you've heard of it, because you haven't. There's only one other close magical family, a distant relative of your Alice – her last name is Prewett, right? I didn't get that wrong? I did only speak to her for a few hours as a whole, but I seem to remember that being her surname.

Anyway, I'm grateful for James' folks letting me stay here, but it's bloody boring, so I find myself searching for entertainment.

As for your last letter – really quite funny, that incident with the "magical" spoon – I think you should have socked him instead of just letting it slide. He really seems like he could use a wakeup call. Merlin, he sounds more boring than Godric's Hollow.

Anyway, are you going to be in Diagon Alley anytime soon? We should probably meet up for some ice cream. James' dad was clever enough to go get my money from Gringotts before my mother's hands got on it, so I'll pay. It'll be a celebration.

To freedom!

Sirius the Magnificent

Dear Sirius (the Magnificent is really a bit much),

Sunday, 11 o'clock, The Leaky Cauldron. Don't bring Potter (though after the last time we spoke, I doubt he'd want to, and I don't believe that crap about him talking about me, either), but Remus or even Peter is fine. The girls – including Alice, whose last name is in fact Prewett – and Frank and I are going to meet there.

To freedom!

Lily.

The Evans lived in a nice, suburban house. It wasn't big, but it wasn't small, either; in fact, it was average in almost every way. It had a nice garden, and a nice sitting room, and a nice kitchen which was supplied well. It was in a nice neighborhood with nice neighbors, and every once in a while Mrs. Evans would throw a garden party, or a tea party, to which all were invited and at which most arrived. During the year, the younger daughter would go away to school, which was hardly uncommon.

Really, it was Lily herself who was odd, but the neighbors – even the nosiest ones – knew nothing of Lily's magic. Besides, that was not of import at the moment, as Lily couldn't use her magic during the holidays, and her hair was a mess. Lily's hair was a mess, and she had ten minutes before she would miss the bus that should take her to London. Tying it back in a careless ponytail that might hide the horribleness of it, she threw some money into a bag – both Muggle and wizard currency – and applied some lip balm. She found an empty bottle and headed to the kitchen downstairs to fill it up.

"Morning, Petunia," Lily said politely, heading straight for the tap.

"Morning," answered the tall teenage girl standing near the coffee machine. Silence followed, and only the sound of the machine, the water running from the tap, and the humming of the fridge could be heard.

"Well, I'm off," said Lily, grabbing a banana as she walked out of the kitchen.

"Where?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Lily turned around to face Petunia. Since when does Petunia care where and what Lily goes and does?

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Petunia elaborated, looking slightly irritated. "So I can tell Mum when she wakes up."

Ah, Lily thought. Of course. I should have known. "London," said Lily shortly. "And Mum already knows."

Petunia nodded. "Okay then." She returned her gaze to the coffee machine, and Lily left the room, slightly relieved that the conversation hadn't continued.

Immediately, she felt guilty. Had she just wished that Petunia not speak to her, her own sister? Had she not, for the last five years, tried to make sure she maintained a healthy relationship with Petunia, as much as she could and as long as she could? She couldn't lose her sister, she simply couldn't – they were blood.

She smiled at the bus driver and paid him – Merlin, Muggle money was so small, she had forgotten – and found a seat near the end of the bus.

Soon she would be back in the magical world, with her magical friends – and Sirius, whatever he was to her - even if only for a short period of time, and everything would be okay.

She was really looking forward to that ice cream.

Dear Padfoot,

I'm incredibly sorry it's been so long since I wrote you – I just finished an incredibly long apology to Prongs as well, and I intend to write to Wormtail the instant I finish with this letter.

So, here are my excuses:

Firstly, I was on that vacation that I told you about – thanks for remembering, by the way, as it seems neither Prongs nor Wormtail remembered – and I had a great time, but I'll tell you more about that when we meet. Suffice to say, the second reason is there was a very kind Muggle girl who happened to be from London, and I'm sure you're going to be pissed, but I won't say anything else. For now.

My third excuse is that I've been recovering from last month - and I haven't been able to catch up. It was actually worse than usual – and again, this isn't the format to explain this.

Lastly, I got no less that fifteen letters during the three-week period I haven't been answering my post. You might see how this would cause a reluctance to read and answer them all. So I've been procrastinating. When two more letters arrived, one from Lily – who, I understand, you're in touch with now as well? – and one more from James, I decided it was time to pick them all up and answer them all.

So here are my answers to your questions:

No. Yes. Maybe. Last Tuesday. If I remember. Of course. It was a parrot, for your information, and I doubt that it intended to step in the coffee.

So anyway, congratulations on moving in with James. I'll be stopping by soon – is Thursday okay? – and we'll talk.

Tell James that he's a prat. I told him so in my letter, but he should hear it more than once.

Moony.

Moony!

I cannot stress how thrilled I was to finally receive a letter from you. Or anyone, really. I met with Evans a couple of days ago, and that was great fun – James still insists I must be lying, but I swear it was – and James and I have done nothing but play Quidditch ever since I arrived, and I never thought I would say this, but I'm bloody sick of Quidditch, and the games the locals play don't include flying. Which is even more boring. Who wants to run after a ball? The whole fun is flying.

Anyhow, James' parents say that coming over on Thursday is fine. Mrs. Potter said that she would cook lunch, and Mrs. Potter's cooking is far from excellent, so you should definitely come very late. Though I would take her cooking over my mother's any day. And to be fair, her baking is top-notch, and so is her lasagna. Maybe you should come in time for lunch. I'll make sure she makes lasagna.

How dare you flirt with a Muggle girl and refuse to tell me any details! If you had never mentioned her, it would have been one thing… Rest assured, I will definitely question you further on Thursday.

As for Lily – yes, we have been corresponding. I sent her a letter amidst my despair in the beginning of this summer, and she seemed to get the idea that I was interested in a continuing relationship. I have, despite my initial misgivings, given in to her advances – her non-romantic advances, of course.

James has terrible taste in music, by the way, did you know? He plays all this Muggle shite, says he likes the stuff. I keep having to change the station on the radio to something more interesting, like the Magpies. They're new stuff is excellent.

See you on Thursday,

Sirius

In his head, he called it the Morning After.

Sirius would probably think it was hilarious, but really, there was nothing worse than the Morning After, whether after drunken, regrettable sex, or after changing into a wolf.

As he staggered out of St. Mango's – they practically kicked him out of there, really – Remus realized he was about to be sick.

Yeah, the Morning After was definitely the worst.

Dear Wormtail,

James and I are going to go to that ice cream shop I like again tomorrow. Would you like to join? I'm paying, as I've yet to celebrate with you and Remus. Speaking of Moony – he's coming too. Or at least, I assume he's coming. I've just sent the letter this instant.

How's your mum? We haven't been over as much as usual this summer, so I feel like I should ask.

Hope to see you tomorrow,

Sirius

Padfoot,

I'm tired too tired to right a full letter right now. Who sends a letter at ten p.m.?

Yes. Seeya.

Peter.

Peter missed being at school. He was happy at home. Peter wasn't happy at home. His mum doted on him, and didn't mind that he was average. But he could tell that she was tired. That she wished he was above average, like his friends. He could tell that she missed his dad.

So did he.

And his friends they really hadn't visited much that summer, and he felt… out of the loop.

His uneasiness was just that missing his friends, though. Right?

Dear Sirius (the Fantastic is just pushing it),

There are less than three weeks left until term. I am, regrettably, informing you of my plans for the next two weeks: France.

Yes, my mother insists that we all go to France, well, save for my dad. So we're going on a girls' trip to France, and I have to go, or I'll probably be disowned.

No offence intended to you, of course. I am not trying to – well, you know what I mean.

She really sprung this out on me in the middle of nowhere, so I'm writing quick letters to everyone and then – adios! Wait, that's the wrong language. How do you say goodbye in French? Did you learn French? I did in Primary, but I never listened in class.

Anyway, I'm off to France. France! My mother is so desperate for Petunia and I to get along that she's willing to go to France to make it happen. The situation is dire, my friend.

So this is my goodbye (in English). I will see you on the train ride, accompanied by the rest of you troublemakers, no doubt. I already have Marlene picking up my stuff at Diagon Alley – so I won't see you there, either.

To France!

Lily.

A/N: So finally, a Sirius-centric chapter! I love this format, I love this plot, is it okay for me to fall in love with my own chapter?

Speaking of falling in love - I'm sorry for the delay, but my computer simply stopped functioning. For the fifth time this year. So afterweeks of hell on earth (not having a laptop) - I have finally received a new computer! And that's where the falling in love part comes in, as this computer is absolutely fantastic. It's so wonderful, so amazing... God, I love this new laptop.

So I should return with the regular writing. :)

Calypso: Sirius is fantastic.

Shevi: Thank you so much for reading! 3

Paigeeykins: Thank you so much. Sadly, the other computer isn't really worth fixing, as it broke five times this year. But at least I have a new one! My mom is just wonderful, for buying this amazing, lovely laptop. It definitely did suck, yes.

So... onwards! I have a very clear image in mind of the next few chapters, I just have to get there... hopefully I'll update this weekend!

Reviews?