So...a little late...but Merry Christmas to everyone! I hope you all are having a good holiday and are doing well!
Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!
Sirius stared at the door in the dim light. He had no idea what time it was…probably around two in the morning, so technically Christmas day.
Right across the hall, not even ten feet away, was James.
Because he was in James house. Not his house.
James' home, not his home…or rather…it was his home now.
Letting out a shaky breath Sirius opened the door and crossed the hallway in his socks, trying to be as quiet as possible.
"James…?" He whispered, ear pressed to the door. "James, are you awake?"
There was a muffled thump which Sirius took as permission to enter.
"Hey mate…"
A disheveled looking James peered up at Sirius from the floor where he had landed upon falling off the bed.
"Hey…"
Sirius stepped around the piles of Quidditch magazines and dirty clothes and sat down on James bed.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Yeah, me neither." James lied and Sirius chuckled.
"You defiantly weren't just asleep then."
"Course not." James smirked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "So what's up Pads?"
Sirius shrugged and wrapped his arms around himself. In the early morning light creeping through James' windows he looked older than his sixteen years.
His shaggy black hair fell in his face, not quite covering the blue black bruise that ran from his temple to mouth. Those quicksilver eyes of his that James had always found so…enchanting…were hallow and haunted in the shadows.
"James…" His voice cracked for the first time in years and the mask fell apart...
All this time, all this time he'd been trying so damn hard to forget. So damn hard to forgive.
But he couldn't.
How could he forget what they did to him when the memories were etched in his own skin?
How could he ever forgive them when even a faint mention of her name caused him to quake in fear?
He couldn't.
Not now…maybe not ever. But he just knew he couldn't.
This was sixteen years of his life. Sixteen years...
Gone.
Useless.
Sixteen years that he now had to spend trying to make up for. Trying to fix. Trying to keep going…
"Hey…" James' face swam into his view, concern in his friend's squinting eyes.
"Where are your glasses Prongs?" Sirius asked, a thin smile on his lips that didn't reach his eyes.
"Lost them is this." James gestured to the general chaos of his room as he sat down next to Sirius. "Do you miss them? Is that what this is about?"
"I…no. Of course not! They were…awful Prongs…just awful…"
"Trust me, I know." James muttered, calloused hands brushing Sirius' still healing face.
"I just…I spent all those years trying to please them. Trying to make them love me, trying to understand why they hated me…"
"And…?"
"And I realized…there is no explanation. There is nothing that can explain what they did to me."
"I…I'm really sorry you had to go through that mate."
Sirius just shrugged, and brushed his hair out of his face.
"But you know what…?"
"What?"
"You're home now…" James whispered, pulling Sirius close and wrapping his arms tight around his friends shaking shoulders.
"I know…and I can't thank you enough Prongs. This is the best Christmas present anyone's ever gotten me."
"Well just wait until morning and we'll see if that still holds."
Sirius laughed, but his eyes were still haunted and his shoulders were still shaking slightly. His hands gripped James' pajamas tightly and he leaned into the comforting embrace of his best friend, his brother.
The next morning, or more accurately…afternoon, Mrs. Potter found her two boys curled together in James bed, hands still linked.
"Merry Christmas Boys." She said as she shook them gently awake.