Author's Note:
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Also, I'm gonna write it one more time but a disclaimer is due. I don't own the songs, I don't own the characters and I don't own the places, so please just enjoy, like, follow, comment etc. safe in the knowledge I'm just having fun and I don't want y'all coming after me with lawyers because I'm broke as a joke!

Chapter 3 – Little Lights

We're born with millions
Of little lights shining in the dark
And they show us the way
One lights up, every time you feel love in your heart
One dies when it moves away

All the Little Lights – Passenger

It was odd to think that waking up with the sun beating through an open curtain would feel so refreshing but, to Sirius, it was the most amazing sensation he had experienced in his life. The warm rays played across his bare skin, tickling and rousing him into consciousness. Sweet, glorious, living, breathing consciousness. Sirius took a long, heavy breath and smelled from somewhere close by an intoxicating cacophony of aromas that made his mouth water longingly at the sheer thought of what they were. He could, with his heightened sense of smell derived from years of impersonating a shaggy haired black dog, pick out the distinct tang of tomatoes being fried, bacon being grilled, sausages in a pan he could almost hear spitting, toast popping and baked beans bubbling happily in a saucepan on the stove. He hadn't realised how much he had missed a cooked breakfast. In limbo, food had not come across his mind at all, only the aching yearning for company in his loneliness and the despair of his state of being. That was of course until Dumbledore appeared, eyes a-twinkling, followed shortly by Remus, a man he was sure he would never see again, and of course Sniv...he corrected himself to Snape, the man had brought him back after all. To where, he was uncertain.

The absolute pleasure of breathing, feeling, seeing more than white and pain was enough to distract him from the task at hand. He stretched his aching limbs and surveyed his surroundings, starting with what he was wearing. The outfit appeared to be a pure white duplicate of the outfit he had worn when falling into the veil, the only colour being the distinct gold watch chain hanging from his waistcoat and the faintest gold stitched stripes of his jacket. He looked himself over and wasn't overly keen in a pure white ensemble, it was nowhere near as colourful as he enjoyed in previous life. He huffed and pulled himself to his feet. He had been lying on a large, well made and airy four poster bed placed in the middle of a room that looked vaguely familiar. A large window to his left looked out onto an even more familiar grassy park surrounded by large town houses. Cars drove past unobtrusively, barely making a sound, and occasionally a Hackney cab drove by. Again he felt that creeping sense of knowledge and he gave the room a critical sweep of the eye. He couldn't be... The room looked so similar to his old bedroom but the colours were completely changed, the bed was no longer heavily draped in Gryffindor colours to counteract the very Slytherin décor surrounding it. His photos and the paintings were changed. Even the wallpaper was a light pastel wash. He walked over to the window and looked up and down the street, spotting a London road sign on the railings of the opposite park. Grimmauld Place, it read, and all of a sudden Sirius's heart leapt into his throat. He was home. But it wasn't his home any more. Pacing away from the window and towards the mantelpiece he pictured a little family, children flying kites, picnics in the sun, a family to match the décor of this his ex-bedroom.

As he approached, his heart shifted from his throat to somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. The photos displayed were of a couple, one, a young woman, with bright red hair and playful eyes and the other a raven-haired boy...young man actually...with a funny looking beard not dissimilar to his own, with eyes of bright, shimmering green. They were dancing around a fountain and smiling, laughing, the man wrapping his arms around the woman in a loving embrace as the picture replayed the moment over and again. Sirius stared, a tear running down his face as he recognised the pair fully. The hair of the young man was a ragged mess on top of his head as the girls hair flowed free beneath a Holyhead Harpies green and gold beret. So similar and yet so different, Ginny looked with complete adoration into the eyes of Harry, and Sirius felt an overwhelming mixture of senses. Love, regret, anger, remorse, pain and pride welled up in his chest as he watched the two danced, as James and Lily, had in the beautiful garden. Next to this photo was one of a baby, swathed in a blanket, a crop of jet black hair upon it's head and large blue eyes gurgling at the camera. Sirius's eyes opened wider than he knew they could as the features of the baby blended the two into one perfect child. He had to touch it to check it was real. He picked the frame up and held it in his hands, his eyes darting between photos again and again, matching the eyes, the hair, the little nose and wide, toothless grin. He turned the photo over and his tears flowed freely as he saw, scribbled on the back in oh so familiar handwriting James Sirius Potter – Born 27th March 2004.

Sirius was having trouble processing what he was seeing. How much had he missed? How long had he been away? Last time he had checked, it was 1996. Was it now 2004? Had he missed he turn of the century whilst in Limbo? His mind span and he headed back to the edge of the bed with both photos in hand, feeling his knees give way against him. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and listened to the rhythms of the house. He could hear the soft muffle of talking, of laughter, and the underlying sounds of breakfast being made. He could hear the sound of a child now, easily identified by an endless, high pitched stream of sound occasionally interjected with by a softer, lower, muffle. Curiosity sparked within him and he stood, placing the pictures back on the mantle and walking to the door which he had completely disregarded as being half open. He felt himself moving through it into the same hallway of his youth, but the colours were brighter and the piaintings had been dusted and cleaned. His mind turned to old Kreacher and his pottering around the place, cleaning and keeping everything just to the Black family's liking. He wondered if Kreacher was still here or whether he had passed on after all this time. Did he even survive the war? Others clearly had. Sirius stopped at the top of the stairwell and realisation dawned and birthed a wonderous feeling of hope. Harry and Ginny had survived. The war could be over! Life could be restored to the old house in ways he never thought possible because the war was over and the Light were victorious! No other explanation could be found. Sirius descended the stairs two at a time, he had meditated enough!

As he reached the almost closed door of the living room he stilled, listening again to the voices on the other side. There were more than just an adult and an infant. There was a choir of voices tussling for conversation. He tried to pick up the scents of the others, and he could just about note the smell of Weasley's, Luna Lovegood (that airy, light mixture of lavender and wet grass), Neville Longbottom (an earthy smell, like a gardener after a long day in the allotment) and another smell. He couldn't believe it when he first caught it but there it was. Tangy, salty, like the sea during a storm. Like his father but with hints of his mother's nightshade and irises. He could almost see the sneer. What was Draco Malfoy doing here?

Curiosity killed the cat...'Good thing I'm a dog then!' thought Sirius as he flexed his muscles on impulse and shifted, glad to know his magic was fully in tact. He shook himself and stretched in his animagus form, turning in circles to check he still had a tail. All seemed correct. He couldn't help but chuff (the closest thing to a laugh for a dog) at the thought of what would happen next. Maybe he would be daring and bound straight to Harry, or perhaps just wander in and pee on Malfoy's leg...the possibilities were endless. He nosed the door open and waited for anyone to notice, but no one did. He watched in awe from his concealed spot as the family around him worked towards a breakfast. Awe turned to shock as he acknowledged where people were in the room. Harry and Ginny were sitting at the top and bottom ends of the oversized dining table, a small child wandering between them in search of their approval for something. Luna and Neville were side by side, practically in each other's lap, talking animatedly about sprouting mandrakes and the problems with nuzzfiggles in a mandrake patch. Molly was busying herself with table arranging while a put upon Arthur sat quietly drinking tea, occasionally joining in but otherwise staying silent, his eyes baggy and tired looking. George was talking excitedly about Quidditch with someone, and it took a long moment for Sirius to register what he was seeing. Sitting boldly in the lap of Ron Weasley, one arm draped lazily around his shoulders as the other gesticulated alongside talk of how Paramore was a useless keeper, was Draco. Ron looked blissfully amused at the interchange, whilst Draco was getting more frustrated, playing straight into the hands of a waiting and eager George. As Sirius's jaw dropped open, he failed to note the footsteps behind him coming up the hallway.

"What the fuck?" Hermione screeched, drawing her wand and pointing it directly at Sirius's head. The room abruptly became silent, a reprimand poised on Molly and Ginny's lips before they both looked in the direction of Hermione's wand.

"Mum, what does fuck mean?"

The little boy was oblivious as to why the adults all seemed to suddenly go quiet, and he crawled onto his mother's lap in inquisitive wonder.

"James, don't say that word. It's a very bad word. It's not for little boys to say," the words left Arthur's mouth with ease, as if he had failed to notice what was going on. He even sounded tired, he must be working over time. He still had on Ministry robes, but the gold trim told Sirius he had been promoted. Sirius wanted to congratulate him, but it simply came out as a bark and a wagging tail.

The boy's eyes glinted mischievously as he turned to his grandfather, cheek disguised as innocence riddled across his face.

"But Pop-pop, Aunty Moany said fuck first!"

James, scrunched his nose and looked over accusatorially at Hermione who shifted awkwardly at her realisation, her eyes still trained on the dog and her wand still pointed firmly in Sirius's direction.

"James, enough!"

It was Harry who spoke this time, his voice firm as he forced himself to look at his son, trying so hard to fight the urge to laugh at his son's cheekiness. Arthur let out a sigh and looked down at Sirius, not at all surprised at what he saw. To everyone's surprise, he held out his hand to the dog and waited, nodding slightly. Sirius took the cue and approached, sniffing the proffered hand and wagging his tail, his tongue lolling out. Arthur scratched behind Sirius's ear and under his chin, uttering in a weary voice.

"Well, you took your time, didn't you, old friend. I was expecting you to appear much sooner than this. Would you not prefer to greet everyone properly rather than all fours?"

"Arthur, what are you on about?"

Molly looked confused and flustered, although to Sirius's memory she always looked flustered. Arthur turned to his wife with a face full of love and patience, with a dash of guilt.

"Well...Moll, you know I was saying to you this morning when I got in we had an unexpected visitor at the Ministry?"

He waited, adding an unnecessary pause, to check his wife was following. She nodded, dumbstruck.

"You see, I cannot officially tell anyone who the guest was, as I told you, but I'm not bound to secrecy. Being Minister of Magic I never have to do such things again..."

He glanced at Sirius and winked, a large smile forming exhausted but exhilarated lines across his face. Sirius marked that Arthur was definitely looking a lot older than the last time they had met. He had silver almost drowning the flecks of red left in his mane of hair, which now reached his shoulders. His face was almost the same, aside from the added wrinkles, and his eyes had taken on a twinkle that Sirius couldn't help but compare to Dumbledore's old eyes. Sirius licked Arthur's hand and continued to wag his tail.

"Doggy! I want the doggy Mum, Mum can we keep him, PLLLLEEEAAASSSSEEE Mum!"

James was bouncing impatiently in his mother's lap. Ginny had barely moved since Sirius had been outed, and Harry had returned to his blank stare. Sirius felt saddened when he looked over at his godson, eyes filled with unshed tears and fists clenched into a tight ball. This was not going how Sirius had planned. Harry looked furious, so much so some of his hairs were actually standing on end. He looked older than his age could possibly be, but he still had something about him that wreaked of youth and vitality. Ginny looked as she always had, though perhaps her face was a tad longer, her hair a tad more controlled. Hermione was a mane of dreadlocks. They suited her. Multicolour ribbons were interwoven into the intricate braids the expanded from her head, making her face look small in comparison. Ron was looking wonderful, sleek and trim with a full lumberjack beard of red and gold and a large scar poking out just to the edge of his right eye that seemed to run underneath the beard. Draco was languishing in his lap now, enjoying a new drama. He had changed too, although he sported the long, straight, platinum blond hair of his father, worn in a Celtic braid down his back. He didn't seem to have anything Malfoy about him, other than the family resemblances. And he was sitting in Ron's lap! Sirius could not get his head around that sight, and knew many questions were going out to the group, not just coming his way. He started to feel nervous, but continued to wag his tail and look to each of them.

Arthur, clearing his throat and standing, pulled his wand from his robe sleeve and summoned his Patronus. The little weasel sprang from the end of his wand and circle around Arthur's neck, settling on his shoulder.

"Take a message to Glenda and Artemis, tell them that they should probably send Him over to Grimmauld Place, it's probably the best place to start. Oh! And then head to Andre and Vlad and tell them to send an owl to Minerva for me, I'm a bit tied up at the moment. Tell her to urgently head to Remus Lupin's tomb and check inside. Be prepared for a shock."

The little, ghostly weasel peeped cheerfully and then zoomed out of the open dining room window.

"Harry, would you be so kind as to grab your godfather a robe, and perhaps Molly you could ask Kreacher to serve up an extra plate for Sirius. I'm assuming your hungry, old chap?"

Sirius barked twice and Arthur, continually smiling, patted him on the head before reaching to lift his grandson from his daughter's lap.

"Now James, do you remember the story of where your middle name comes from?"

James nodded, looking at the dog with caution as now he was a lot closer. It had not been so big when he was on his mother's lap, but it was right in front of him now. Sirius saw the child's apprehension and tilted his head to the side, letting out a whimper and then snuffling at the child's stomach, tickling him. James giggled and patted his head, like his grandfather had, all fear lost with his new friend.

"Well, this right here is one of the men you are named after and one of the important elders of the Order of the Phoenix. Can you remember what I told you about them in your bedtime story?"

"Yes! It's my favourite Pop-pop!"

"Would you like to tell it to Sirius whilst your father gets him some clothes?" Dropping his voice Arthur dramatically whispered, "You don't want him to transform and be all naked would you, eww!" James wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

"I wouldn't be averse, I always wondered about the tattoos..." Draco chimed in from his chez Ron. Ron nudged him in the ribs and Draco dramatically let out a pained "Ouch" before settling back to his smug smile.

Finally, after looking for a long while at nothing in particular, Luna looked over to the action in the room. She had vaguely noticed everything stopping, but then had spotted an odd creature on the wall which looked like a cross between a nargle and a hornswat, and had completely lost track of her surroundings. It was part of the wallpaper design, and Ginny had said it was simply a pattern, but Luna knew differently. Focussing in on what everyone was staring at, and what Hermione was pointing her wand at, she beamed so widely that it almost lit the entire room. For Neville it did anyway. He turned to her and looked in bewilderment as she clapped with glee.

"Oh Sirius! I'm so happy you made it back!"

"That. Is not. Sirius. Sirius is dead. I saw him die," Harry said through gritted teeth. He really was seething.

"Well of course it is! Look at his eyes, Harry, it's clearly him! And who can mistake that animagus?"

Luna stood and walked around, crouching and giving the dog a loving fuss as he barked and enjoyed the attention.

James, feeling like he had been rudely interrupted, cleared his throat and sat a little taller in his spot, crossing his arms and looking pointedly around the room.

"Ah-hem! I was going to say...the Order of the Phoenix was the Light sides army, and they fought for justice, peace, hope and love. They helped Daddy save the world, and Mummy, and Aunty Moany, and Uncle Ron. Bad men wanted to make the world dark, but the Order all came together and saved everyone. Sadly, some of the Order became so tired they had to sleep forever, just like Daddy's mummy and daddy and Uncle Fred. One of those people was Daddy's godfather, Sirius Black..."

James closed his eyes, trying to remember the story his family told him, upon urgent and persuasive request, every night without fail.

"...Sirius was running because he was blamed for hurting Daddy's mummy and daddy, but he never did! He would never hurt anyone he loved...Pop-pop, he was my favourite, you know why?"

Arthur looked at his grandson and then at Sirius, giving him a sly wink.

"No, you have never said so before, why is he your favourite, James?"

"Beccaaaauuuuusssseeee he could turn into a doggy, like this one! And and and he loved Daddy with all his heart. And and and he left Daddy this house and Kreachie and he was sometimes cheeky when he was at school, like grandad James, and he was grandad James and nanny Lily's bestest friend, and you know Teddy? Teddy is my best friend and his daddy...he was one of the Order and had to have a long sleep too...Teddy says that his daddy and Sirius was best friends too! Like Daddy, Aunty Moany and Uncle Ron!"

Arthur smiled down at James who was over-excitedly bobbing in his lap, hands flailing, as he explained his reasoning, like when one has to explain (at any age) who their favourite superhero could be and why they are the best to a group of non-believers.

Draco snorted a laugh as he listened to James, who was oblivious that the dog and the man were the same person. He had grown to love this family, but sometimes he wondered how, with all that had happened, they still were surprised by strange things going on. He looked at his husband and smiled, feeling his brain whizzing at one hundred miles a minute. How he had managed to get to this point, Draco honestly couldn't say. IT had been completely shocking when, all those years ago, he had found himself competing in a firewhiskey drinking, sorrow drowning, life hating contest in the dingiest part of the Leaky Cauldron with none other than Ronald Bilius Weasley (now Weasley-Malfoy after losing the chess game the night before the wedding...he should have taken that pesky knight when he had the chance, Draco chuckled to himself). Ron had just split up from Hermione after she had discovered him in a tryst with two of the Holyhead Harpies. The relationship had never been the same once the war was over, both knew it, but neither could accept that some things just don't work. But, that night, something had worked. To Draco's knowledge, it had worked extremely well considering how utterly saturated in booze they both had been, and it had worked that way ever since. Coming out to his mother had been a lot easier than expected, her words being 'at least he is a pureblood'. The wedding had assisted in Narcissa clawing back up the social ladder with her new found, and completely unexpected, best friend and ally, Molly. Mothers of the Grooms had clearly gone to the pair's heads when they first started planning out the wedding arrangements, and they were soon spending time together more and more, until it came to a point where his once slender and poised mother had developed a healthy, rosy glow about the cheeks and a couple of extra pounds around the waistline. Draco remembered his father's disgust when he was released from Azkaban to find not only was his wife filing for a divorce, but she had gained weight and had no interest in letting him test-drive her newly developed, heavier bust and bottom as a welcome home present. Draco was so pleased at how happy his mother now was with her toyboy, although he could still not look Kingsley Shacklebolt in the eye after walking in on them one night during a particularly explicit game of poker...At least his mother was winning...Draco shuddered at the memory and returned his focus to the room wherein Potter had still not got his godfather some clothes and the dog was happily enjoying his own godson, James, as he told the bed time story. Draco let out a loud, dramatic sigh and stood lazily.

"Well, Harry, if you aren't going to go get them. And I suppose you aren't going to transform just for fun?" Sirius huffed and shook himself, much to James's amusement.

"Kreacher!" Draco called, a little louder than perhaps necessary.

There was a loud crack and the house elf stood, bent double with age but dressed in a butler's suit (Hermione's compromise was to make him clothing, but he would accept nothing less that the suit he had seen on Harry's tel-e-vizzon that the tall butler, Jeeves, had been wearing).

"Yes, Mrs Weasley..."

Draco scowled, "You know, I'm still not above giving a house elf a good kick..." A sharper jab was administered, this time to his back, and he turned to look at Ron, who was no longer amused but rather stern.

"Ugh! Fine! Kreacher, can you go find Master Black some of his old clothes. I think Harry packed them away somewhere in the cellar?"

"Kreacher has taken the liberty, Mrs Weasley, of already getting clothes for the Master"

With a wave of his hand, a pile of clothes appeared, freshly washed and pressed, beside Sirius on the floor.

"How did he...?" Ron managed to cough out, but it was clearly a struggle so Draco interjected.

"House elves are so connected to their families and houses they know when their true master is near. Seriously, you dated Moany, how did you not learn some of this stuff?"

Hermione, temporarily snapping out of her fixation on the dog, glared at Draco.

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that! It's your fault James calls me Aunty Moany!"

"But it is just so much fun to see how much is pi-annoys you, Moany," Draco laughed and settled back into Ron's lap, who started to shake from the effort of holding in his own giggle upon seeing Hermione's seething face. Ron failed, as Draco knew he would, and the tension in the room was soon broken by the heart-felt laughter of all, joined by the joyful yip of a dog. George patted Draco on the back and guffawed, wiping a tear from his eye, and the room was washed in a calm relief. No one had seen George laugh that hard in such a long time, and it made Draco proud that he had contributed to another wall being broken so the real George, the one that carried his brother's torch in his heart, could peek through. Looking at the shining in Ron's eyes made him all the more pleased, and he bent his head to exchange a soft and chaste kiss before the laughter settled and confusion returned, though not as violently as before.

Sirius took his clothes in his mouth and padded into the hallway, quickly transforming and changing into the lovely ensemble chosen by Kreacher. 'He never was a bad elf really, just a very grumpy one,' he thought as he buttoned up his newly pressed forest green waistcoat, checked the hallways for his pocket watch which he had conveniently left on the stairs, and pulled on his deep purple striped jacket. The elf knew what he liked, after all this time. He strode to the dining room door once again and, taking a deep breath, entered to face the family.

_.oOo._

In a busted up, broke ass, boojee chic trailer pitched outside Bon Temps busiest family bar, wedged between some overgrowing trees and too close to the bins for comfort, deep male moans could be heard, interspersed with a rickety creaking of the swaying van. The trailer was swaying ever so slightly as one voice bled into two male voices, getting louder and louder with the motions of the caravan. As quickly as the sounds had started, a sound from inside the trailer drew the entire process to an abrupt halt. A phone was ringing...

Ring, ring, Hooker! Ring, ring!