"Expecto Patronum!"

Sirius' voice was the only thing to fill the empty clearing. No silver dog, not even silver vapor.

Sirius again raised his wand and drew an outward spiral in the air before him. After a moment's consideration he cast his mind back to a birthday party celebrated with his Hogwarts friends. It was the memory he had used to cast the Patronus charm on the night he saved Marlene McKinnon and killed Rabastan Lestrange. One that should work. "Expecto Patronum!"

He cast again. And again, and again, using all the memories he could think of that had worked while he was still in school.

After twenty minutes of this he lowered the wand and closed his eyes. He cleared his thoughts and focused on his breathing for a time. He had to think of something different. Something happy.

He tried James' wedding.

He tried Lyra's naming celebration.

He tried swaying to the music at the Clash concert with Richard and Audrey. Nothing.

A little desperate, he tried the moment of inhuman euphoria when he absorbed the last shred of Voldemort's soul; he nearly vomited at the feeling of wrongness his magic exuded in the attempt. Should've known that was a bad idea.

With a frustrated sigh, Sirius sat on the withered stump in the middle of the clearing, the same place Voldemort used to occupy during their lessons on Inferi creation. He slid his wand into his sleeve and rested his head in his hands a moment. He had known in his bones he would fail at this, long before he had sneaked out of the Potters' house and past the auror guards to try it in privacy. He was not pleased to have proof of his own misery. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit up. The pale smoke he exhaled made mockery of the charm he was trying to perform. He stared around at the spring growth lining the edge of the clearing. Thinking. Far from enlivening the haunted space, the new greenery highlighted the lingering traces of foul magic in the space at Sirius' feet. The soil where spilled blood and Dark magic mixed was barren and would remain so for many years to come. It was an apt representation of Sirius' own soul, regrowing at the periphery, dead in its core.

Was it worth it?

You do impressive job.

Siri, never change.

The Dark Lord would have won if not for you.

She's alive because of you. I'm alive because of you.

You let me keep my sanity.

No matter what it cost us, you did a good thing by ending him.

He thought back to his angry rant at Moody and Dumbledore over Christmas, defending his own aggressive tactics, arguing against the dichotomous morality espoused by the Order of the Phoenix and against Dumbledore's categorical disavowal of Dark magic as necessarily corrupting. The subsequent months had proved he'd won the moral argument with the two older wizards, but he now conceded he'd been deluding himself when it came to magical theory. His mind was warped now and soul tarnished as Dumbledore had warned. Yes, it was a specialized ritual that had ultimately done it, not the Avada Kedavra, but he would not have successfully performed the Ritual of the Feast of Innocents without the immersion in the Dark arts in the past year, guided by Bella, Rodolphus, and Voldemort himself. He wouldn't have had the magical power, wouldn't have had the necessary wrath or killing resolve. Like it or not, he was changed from who he had been at Hogwarts. He certainly wasn't the person he had hoped to become when he was still mostly innocent himself and dreamed of being a hero in the Order of the Phoenix or auror department.

There had been a lot of people forcing Sirius to stop and reflect on things in the past few weeks, but he hadn't done it voluntarily. Hadn't done it in solitude, until today. He'd been far more intent on shutting down the more painful of the intrusive thoughts in his head rather than letting them speak. He'd drowned them out with business, with cigarettes and booze, with Occlumency exercises. He heard their voices now, words echoing in his head. They all used different words to say the same thing: War's over. Move on. Turn the page. Keep going. Live again.

You're already forgiven.

I'm proud of you, and I'm worried for you.

I'll still be your friend when this is over.

I love you, and I want to be there for you.

He vanished the first cigarette butt and immediately lit the next. He got the message. He did. He just didn't know what to do with it. He hadn't bothered trying to see past the war. Hell, he hadn't bothered to see a long-term future for himself outside of the war ever since running away from home when he was sixteen and throwing away his inheritance. It was an inheritance he'd since reclaimed, but one he so far had shamelessly abdicated to his older cousin and friends to administer.

You didn't survive the war just to give up on your own life or happiness now.

Don't you dare take more of these ridiculous risks.

It's not your job.

I beg of you not to let yourself be used. Choose your own spokespersons.

You aren't your parents. You're not James Potter, or Rodolphus Lestrange.

It's more hypocritical to deny what you're feeling and espouse a creed you don't adhere to.

He snorted and vanished another spent cigarette. He didn't know what he wanted to be anymore. He wasn't ever going to be an auror at this point. Despite James' assertions, he was fairly sure he wasn't the other man's best friend any more, nor was it particularly important to him to become such again. There were a few things Sirius had to do, like cooperating with Moody on the legal stuff, but nothing that truly inspired him. He didn't know if he would ever want something for himself again. He continued apathetically existing, but to what end?

You can stop the abuse.

There is no one in this world I would rather have as Lyra's protector than you, if I can get you back to what you can be.

You knew you had something to do that was bigger than your own life and even your own feelings.

No regrets now. You're going to do great things.

If you seek to change certain aspects of our House, that is your prerogative as the future head of the family. Don't let anyone tell you that you are not and should not be of this family, Sirius. You are a Black and always will be.

My voice is my own.

I chose.

I chose.

I choose.

Look at that, he'd sat here so long staring at trees he'd run out of cigarettes. Sat here so long without moving that the wildlife, what little remained within earshot of this accursed clearing, had resumed its song and movements. Sat here so long alone with his thoughts he had actually made some progress sorting through them and come to some decisions.

He nodded and stood up. First things first. "Kreacher, come to me."

The surly old elf appeared with a crack. It bowed and muttered a formulaic greeting to its master but didn't bother to hide its reluctance to be here.

"Kreacher, go fetch Regulus and bring him to the lodge at the Chiltern Hills. Tell him it's a mandatory study break. And bring lunch. I'll meet you there." He'd always liked the place his father had used as the staging area for the final assault on Voldemort's headquarters.

An hour later, Sirius and Regulus Black sat together in the gazebo overlooking the lake, having long since abandoned the remains of the picnic lunch Kreacher had packed for them. They'd also exhausted the usual avenues for safe small talk - namely what Regulus had been studying most recently, what he was still uncertain about when it came to his fast-approaching NEWTs, and what Hogwarts gossip he had received from his friends. The time had therefore come for more important conversation.

"Reg, I want you to know even though I've been pretty shitty to you for the past, er, seven years, you're one of the most important people in my life. If there's one thing I know I want it's for you to be happy. You and Cissy and Lyra."

Regulus stared at him, wearing an expression of mingled wariness, worry, and gratitude. "Okay, thanks. I love you, too... Why are you inviting me out on a picnic and telling me this all of a sudden?"

"I've decided to be better to family and friends. Try to get better."

"Are you getting help?"

"I'm working through it. I think I've still been fighting the war in my head - and a little in fact to be honest - ever since that last battle. I'm going to try to stop doing that and let it just be over. And I have been taking all my potions like a good boy."

Regulus' shoulders relaxed. He smiled faintly. "Good. For a moment I was worried that... I missed you, Sirius."

"I missed you too, Reg. I'm sorry I hurt you. I haven't been right in the head."

"Are you coming home?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I'm not going to live in Grimmauld Place any time soon, because it's frankly an awful house and I don't want to live with Mum and Dad. I don't want to evict them either. But I am coming back to the family."

"Cissy said so, but I didn't really believe it. And Mum and Dad stopped talking about you after that night, at least where I could hear."

"I'm not surprised. Are you still okay there, living with them?"

Regulus shrugged. "They never harangued me like they did you."

Sirius frowned. "Are you happy there?"

"Er... it's been a rough year."

"Seconded. But I'll have you know, preserving your safety and happiness is a large part of why the war ended when it did. I'd rather my hard work not go to waste. So if you want to move out, or if you have other ideas for what you'd like to do after you graduate that don't align with what Dad has in mind for you, tell me. I'm all ears."

Regulus looked up at him cautiously. "If you are coming back, could I live with you? For a bit anyway." His eyes lit up. "Or we could travel! Go on a world trip like Mum and Dad both did after Hogwarts..."

Sirius eyed him thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea, little Bro. I've got to stick around for the rest of the Death Eater trials, but those should wrap up sometime this summer. We could go somewhere together after that. Maybe not the whole Grand Tour, but a shorter trip..."

"We could go to the Mafia Archipelago."

"Where on earth is that?" Sirius asked, caught very much off guard.

"It's in the Indian Ocean."

"Okay. Never heard of it. We could go there, I suppose. Any particular reason that's the first place that comes to mind?"

"Uncle Alphard said there's an island inhabited almost entirely by nifflers after some Portuguese ship loaded with treasure ran aground in the seventeenth century and a breeding pair escaped. I thought it sounded fun."

"You're that fond of nifflers, are you?"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "I mean, my first thought was all the lost treasure, obviously, but I figured the nifflers would still make it fun if all the treasure's gone by now. They are awfully cute, you know."

Sirius finally smiled and ruffled his little brother's hair. "You are an absolute child, and I love that about you, Reg."

"I'm of age!"

"Shh, don't tell anyone. And don't grow up."

Sirius considerately sneaked back into the Potter's property so that his auror escort could send a message to Moody for him, without ever realizing they'd lost him in the first place.

The conversation with Moody was largely a divestment of responsibility. It felt freeing, because not once did Moody push back and tell him no, he had to do more. Renegade Death Eaters were no longer his problem, nor did he want to be sucked back into the role of a double-agent, let alone faux Dark Lord responsible for keeping a private army of zealots in check. Narcissa might have found them useful, but even Voldemort had had difficulty keeping discipline in the ranks. So Sirius told Moody how to find Antonin's last few holdouts. If Sirius later desired to save them from Azkaban, it would be through the courts.

Speaking of the courts, making Barty Crouch and the Minister for Magic happy was not his problem either. He would continue to appear as-needed in court, but he would not be publicly endorsing any legislation (except by personal correspondence or by proxy) or attending any of the many Ministry functions he had been invited to for the foreseeable future. That was the role of his allies and minions. Narcissa might have to work a bit harder to maintain his public appeal, but Sirius was confident in his cousin's ability to do so without physically parading him around. He didn't want to be Sirius Black the ex-spy and "war hero" forever. He much preferred to distance himself from the likes of Crouch and Dumbledore and instead focus on becoming a firm anchor to his bloc in the Wizengamot. That institution was largely opaque to the wizarding public anyway, its powers operating primarily behind closed doors as in the mountain of correspondence he continued to sort through every day. He didn't need to be seen in order for Narcissa and Richard and the others to make him heard where it mattered. That was how the Lords Black had always operated.

He would not be visiting other parts of the Ministry besides the court rooms again for a very long time, especially not the prisoner holding cells and wherever they moved his dementor.

The only thing he still held back from Moody was that Greyback was dead. There were so many anti-werewolf laws on the books, Sirius preferred to keep them "his problem" for their sake. Remus knew about Greyback and was headed out to the packs with new peace overtures. His efforts would be doomed if some Ministry busybody decided now was the time to round up all the leaderless werewolves, with the strongest alpha dead. No, Sirius would wait to bring the likes of Moody, Crouch, and Dumbledore in on any plans for the werewolves until after he and Remus and Narcissa had hammered out an agreement with them.

At the end of the conversation, Moody actually smiled and said he was probably doing the right thing. The sentiment was surprising coming from the confirmed workaholic. Surprising, but also reassuring. He trusted Moody in a way he didn't really trust the man's superiors. He was prickly, gruff, and opinionated, but he was honest. He knew what Sirius was and seemingly lacked any designs on changing him besides keeping him from doing anything overly reckless. Sirius appreciated that.

It was many hours after Moody had left that James, Lily, and Euphemia finally returned. It was late enough, and the three had clearly consumed sufficient Champaign, that the ladies both went straight up to bed after bidding Sirius a tipsy goodnight. James sprawled inelegantly in the armchair nearest the fire, fingers clumsily loosening his tie. James' puffskein chirped and slipped off Sirius' lap in favor of its owner's. The creature hummed contentedly and licked James' nose while he absently pet it.

"James," Sirius said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm moving out."

James' eyes flew open and regarded him in alarm. "What?!"

Author's note: No final conflict, just a final resolution from Sirius to actually, you know, care about his own future again, not just everyone else's, because this last arc of the story has really been about the difficulty of post-war integration. The lines in italics are all drawn from dialogue of the post-Voldie denouement chapters. Between all the people Sirius still has in his life, he does still have what he lost from Fleamont Potter - unconditional love from James, acceptance and support from Moody and Richard, a sense of family from Regulus and Narcissa. Once he's willing to accept what they're offering, he has the tools he needs to put himself back together. This will of course take awhile, so you get to imagine it, dear readers. Expect one more chapter, with some bonus deleted scenes. Thanks for the reviews and for your patience - I've been very busy in real life, so these last few chapters have been hard to write both in terms of content and in terms of finding time.