Ch. 46 - And We'll All Go Together

August 12th

Sirius expected to hear a clattering sound when the brandy bottle slipped from his grasp, but heard only a dull thud, followed by the swish of what little liquor remained inside. Fighting with his drooping eyelids, he pawed around for the bottle, feeling grass and dirt beneath his palms. He'd dozed off and forgotten where he was. After a few clumsy seconds, his fingers had found the bottle again. He lifted it back to his mouth, (thought of how he'd only just been to the off-license shop not two days ago,) took the cork in his teeth, and ripped it from the finish before draining the rest of the bottle's contents.

On nights he wasn't assigned to Order patrols, he was here waiting, hoping that Travers would come to admire his work. So far, he hadn't shown.

Tossing the brandy bottle aside, he heard the crack of glass as it hit stone. Sirius drunkenly lurched to his feet, teetering back and forth as he drew his wand.

"C'mon," he muttered, as if he were trying to summon Travers. "C'MON!" he yelled louder, whipping around in search of anyone to hurt. He certainly would've accepted Malfoy in place of Travers. Hell, he would've accepted Remus in place of Travers.

But the only one he managed to hurt was himself. He lost his footing and stumbled backwards, his skull missing an adjacent stone by mere inches as it slammed instead onto a hard patch of dirt. He beat his fists against the ground and roared savagely.

He was certain his head would throb in the morning, but at the moment, he couldn't really feel anything. Panting, he sat himself up and crawled on all fours until he was back in front of Marlene's grave.

He sat back and lifted his hand out towards the stone, tracing Marlene's name with his index finger for what was sure to be the hundredth time. On either side of her grave lay the ones of her parents and her little brother. Without knowing why, Sirius opened his mouth, and in a low, rugged voice, began to croon a folk tune he'd often heard Marlene sing to herself:

"Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather"

The whoosh of an apparition behind him made him jump; perhaps Travers had come after all. Sirius felt around for his fallen wand, but when he turned, James was holding it.

He glanced at the broken brandy bottle, then down at Sirius' bloodshot, swollen eyes, and chose to withhold the wand from him. "I'm not sure giving this back to you is a good idea."

Sirius scoffed and turned back to face the stone. With James practically under house arrest, Sirius had been very content to be left alone to self-destruct in peace; but James rarely let him get away with such things for very long. "You're not supposed to be out n' about, 'specially without the cloak. What would the ol' geezer say if he found out?"

James tucked both of their wands under his arm before he got down on his knees next to Sirius. "What Dumbledore doesn't know won't hurt him. Anyway, Lily was the bad influence; she asked me to make sure you were fit to come to the Christening tomorrow."

"Putain," Sirius swore, rubbing his face with his hands. He'd forgotten what day it was.

"You can't show up to the church in this state," James lovingly admonished him.

"I'll sleep it off."

"Pad-"

"Is Remus going to be there?" he interrupted.

"No, Dumbledore's asked us not to contact him or Em until this business with Malfoy is all sorted out. It's been driving Lily mad, especially after Marley..."

"The bastard didn't even have the decency to come to the funeral," Sirius growled in a canine manner. In his mind, this was as good as a guilty plea.

"He wasn't allowed to, Sirius. It's not safe for Emmeline to be out, and Remus could be tracked back to her. You know they would've given anything to be there."

Sirius scoffed again in response. James had tried, on more than one occasion, to persuade him that his suspicion of Remus was codswallop, but he would hear none of it. He was convinced. He supposed he should be glad that Remus wasn't allowed near the Potters. He just worried he'd have to attend Emmeline's funeral next.

"Listen, about tomorrow: after the service, after you're 'officially' made godfather, we're going to draft up a will so we can name you Harry's guardian if anything should happen-"

"You've got to be bloody kidding me- I don't even want to think about that right now," Sirius interrupted, motioning incredulously to the grave.

James sighed deeply with an undertone of impatience. "Look, I know this is hard, and I know you're hurting-"

"How could you know?" he snapped, turning to James. Realizing how harshly that had come out, he lowered his voice. "James, mate, I love you, but how could you possibly know?"

With his wife and child safely at home, James realized his error had no response to this. He'd brought it up at a bad time. He shouldn't have tried to rush him. James rethought his approach, and decided instead to give Sirius the space to say anything he needed to say. There was a long stillness between the two of them in an already still graveyard.

After a while, Sirius rubbed his eyes and turned back to James. "How often do you tell Lily you love her?" he asked quietly.

James reflected on this. "...Every day."

"...I think I can count on one hand how many times I said it to Marley...you know I'm not good at that sort of thing." He reached out towards the grave again.

"...She knew you loved her."

"But I wish I'd-..." His voice broke and he lowered his head as he began to silently cry. The tears streamed down his face so effortlessly; just when he thought he didn't have any left.

"It's okay," James whispered, placing a comforting hand on Sirius' shoulder and gently giving him permission to feel. Sirius had grown up without it and often needed reminding.

"...You just keep telling Lily every day for me, alright?" said Sirius, wiping his nose and cheeks.

"...I will."

"...Good."

More silent minutes passed with James' hand firmly on Sirius' shoulder, letting him know without words that he wasn't going to let go of him, and that he wasn't as alone as he might feel. After a while, Sirius' tears gradually dried.

"C'mon," said James, getting up off the ground and offering Sirius his hand. "It's too late to wake Andromeda, and if you have any chance of 'sleeping it off,' you'd better get some rest. You can stay on the couch and borrow one of my shirts in the morning."

"Can't. I'm waiting for someone," Sirius muttered, declining the helping hand.

"...They're not coming, mate."

And finally, Sirius voiced the real reason he came to the grave most nights: "...I don't want to leave her…" he whispered.

After a moment's thought, James got back down on the ground and placed that same steadying hand over Sirius' heart. "You won't. You carry her with you now."

A flicker of understanding glinted in Sirius' eyes. He nodded, wiped his tears, and with James' help, stood up.

...

Lily got up off the couch when the boys apparated into the entryway. In the dim lamplight, she frowned sympathetically at the state of Sirius.

"Hi beautiful," he mumbled.

"...Come here."

She pulled him into a tight embrace, each of them blinking tears into the other's shoulder.

Lily released him from the hug and swiped her sleeves under her eyes. "Did you get my letter?"

"Course I did," he assured her, patting the pocket of his leather jacket. "Sorry I never wrote back." He lifted his hand to her cheek to brush away one stray tear.

"I forgive you. It's...hard to come up with anything to say right now. I hoped the picture might cheer you up."

"It did," he fibbed. He'd kept it in his pocket to look at periodically, hoping each time that it would cheer him up. So far, no luck; but there was something comforting about the photo, so he kept it in his pocket all the same. "Harry asleep?"

"Yeah, for a few hours now."

"Can I poke my head in?"

"No further than the door - no offense, but the smell of you will wake him."

"The smell of me is enough to wake little old Bathilda down the block. I may be drunk, but I'm not thick."

Lily let out one small giggle. Say what you will about using humor as a coping mechanism - at least some coping was taking place.

While James gathered some blankets for the couch, Lily walked Sirius upstairs to the nursery, carefully turning the doorknob so that they could peek in. The baby was sound asleep, with tiny tufts of jet-black hair strewn messily across his forehead, and little puffs of breath which were music to the ears of his mother and godfather. Miraculously, Sirius cracked a small smile.

"I can't believe how big he's gotten."

"He's heavy, too. I remember month seven and eight before he was born thinking he'd weigh a ton when he came out, but he was so light. Now he weighs a ton."

"Don't tell Prongs, but I wager he'll be a beater like his godfather."

She punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Over my dead body, Sirius. I haven't forgotten all the trips to the hospital wing. I'd like all of my son's bones to remain intact, thank you very much."

"Then I can't imagine you were as keen about his birthday present as let on in your letter," he chuckled, sniffling.

"Are you mad? That little broomstick has been a saving grace. It's our only source of fun these days. Can't believe you even thought to get it aft-..." But Lily stopped herself.

The smile gradually departed from Sirius' lips. "Actually, Marley helped me pick it out before-...before."

"...Did she really?" asked Lily, her bottom lip quivering.

Sirius nodded.

"...Then it's the best gift he'll ever get."

This time, Sirius pulled Lily into an embrace and closed the door so that their sniffles wouldn't wake Harry. James came upstairs to find them clutching each other on the floor of the hallway.