(Chapter Seventeen)

Part II

(Spring, 1994)

He had begun to pace, restless, in the Forbidden Forest. How many times had he been here as a kid? As a teenager? Nothing about the darkened depths and unexplored vastness disturbed him. As a large, black shaggy dog, he had no fear – not for his life, nor for any other creature that might be lurking, watching him. He had long forgotten how to fear death, even before he had begun to spend every day with dementors.

He paused in his pacing, glaring around him. The intense anger and hatred causing his pulse to throb against his neck had been driving him for the past months, the only thing keeping him alive.

Years ago, Sirius had thought that he had avenged his best friend and Lily. He had been sure that he had cornered Peter and forced him to suicide. If his own spell had not hit him, he had ben certain that the spell Peter had delivered that exploded half the street had been enough. In all his time in Azkaban, he never imagined that he might still be alive. The image of seeing that pathetic excuse of a wizard, sitting fat and jolly on the narrow shoulder of the boy in the newspaper had haunted him for nights in Azkaban.

He had been drained in the wizard prison, certainly, but he had never screamed and begged for death like the others had done in their cells. His mother, in spite of their discontented relationship, tried to get him out of Azkaban, perhaps too scandalized by the thought of a Black family member in prison. Even with her influence, though, there was little to be done with Bartemius Crouch as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. No number of bribes or begging would stir that stone pillar of law and order.

Sirius had been bored, tired, but knew that he had done nothing in which to feel shame. He had not served James and Lily to Lord Voldemort and he would not regret killing – or at least what he had believed to be killing – Peter Pettigrew, the real traitor. It had not been his fault, after all, that those Muggles had died; it had not been his spell that had caused the street to rupture as it had done.

He had been close to getting to Peter last February. He had been so close and he remembered seeing that scared little rat, knowing that Sirius was after him – knowing that of everyone, he was the only one who knew about his betrayal. But Peter had ran and the boy had started shouting before Sirius had caught him. He knew it had been rash, even desperate, but trying to access the rat while he was with his family would be impossible – how was he to know where the Weasleys lived? He would have no way of finding them without following them and that was if they did not Apparate. From all that he could see, the Weasley kids seemed to be the good type and he was hardly going to harass a friend of his godson's and possibly go through the entire family in order to get to a traitor. There would be no more deaths because of Peter – he had promised himself that.

The thought of Harry caused a new pang in his chest. He, of course, had known where Petunia and her husband lived. Lily had visited her once after she had married Vernon Dudley and had described the neighborhood to Sirius. He had been wandering the neighborhood, peeking through hedges in his dog form to see if he would ever catch a glimpse of his godson. He had not expected to find him with his trunk on the side of the road, his face lit up in frustration. He had looked so much like James in that moment that it had hurt to look at him. When Harry had whirled around, his face going white with alarm, his wand out, Sirius had backed away into the bushes like a wounded animal licking his wounds. The eyes – almond-shaped and green – were too bright, too familiar.

He had spent most of his time lingering on that moment, catching sight of James and Lily's son. He had felt a surge of affection for the boy without even knowing him. His countenance reminded him of James in his later years, shortly before they all had left school. As he had traveled north, though, left with only himself and his thoughts, the green eyes brought a rush of memories that, at times, would cause him to break down in fresh tears.

He had not cried in Azkaban. He had not even allowed himself to cry after James and Lily's death, instead seeming to be driven into a manic, hysterical rage. Only after seeing Harry had he allowed himself to mourn their deaths.

Sirius spent many nights tortured by their memory. He would sob like a small child some nights, curled into a ball, moaning piteously and asking the empty air for forgiveness. There was a hollowness in his chest where those two people once lied, even a gap where good friends had been. He no longer had Peter Pettigrew, the awkward, bumbling one of their group, and he would never have Remus Lupin, who he had hugged only a few nights before their friends' deaths. He had never been more alone in his life and he felt it in the cold that burrowed deep within his heart those nights when he was haunted.

Arriving at Hogwarts had only intensified that feeling of isolation. At thirty-five, it had been nearly twenty years since he had last been at the castle and it was where most of his happiest memories had been, even if the last year had been one of the more difficult. Being imprisoned, it did not seem so long ago that he had roamed the hallways of Hogwarts. His mind was riddled with memories – his first years with James, of meeting Remus and Peter, of all the times sneaking out onto the grounds together, becoming Animagi together, the trouble they would cause the professors, and the first detention that he was in with Lily, when everything began between them.

When he had been inside the castle, he had the freedom to roam and had lingered in the north tower, sitting in a small hidden alcove where a window was situated. It was still hidden by the same curtain, concealed just perfectly so that no one would be aware. It had been painful to be there, that secret place that he would spend with Lily. Those days were still fresh in his mind, just as fresh as the day he had given up on her before their seventh year. Just like with encouraging James to use Peter as their Secret Keeper, he had thought he had been doing the right thing; and just like then, he had made an error in judgment that had led to the most tumultuous and painful part of their association.

The castle, and all the memories linked to it, had become a reminder to him of how many errors he had made in his life and how heavy his regrets still weighed upon him.

Staring into the darkness of the forest, Sirius forcefully shook himself out of this thought. He had spent enough time while James and Lily were alive regretting his decisions. He did not want to linger in the past any longer – it was hardly productive.

He heard a mewl behind him and glanced over his shoulder at the fluffy orange cat that came dragging what appeared to be a bundle of food. He smiled and gave it an affectionate stroke on the head. Crookshanks, the cat had told him, was the name he had been given.

"What have you brought me?" he asked the cat as he settled down and pulled it up onto his lap, pulling the bundle of food near him. Crookshanks purred, bumping his head against Sirius's chin. He petted the cat absently as he unfolded the small bundle that clearly had been intended for someone else. Cheese, shepherd's pie, bread, and treacle tart. It now made sense why it had taken Crookshanks so long to get here. "You're a good one," Sirius told Crookshanks, picking him up so the cat's paws were curled against his shoulder. He supported the cat with one arm, stroking the fluffy fur.

After Crookshanks had received substantial pets, he then braced his claws into Sirius's shoulder, wiggled his way onto the top of his shoulder, and then jumped off to land behind him. Sirius began to eat the food, chewing slowly and gazing across from him thoughtfully. Crookshanks wandered around for some time before returning to him, flopping against his leg, his tail flicking idly. The only companionship he had in the entirety of his life at the moment had been from this cat and he had welcomed it. The purrs of Crookshanks often calmed him and made him feel almost normal, if a little hungrier and dirtier than most.

"Did he get the Firebolt?" Sirius asked the cat, chewing on some cheese. The cat lifted his head and purred louder in assent, blinking his eyes closed before returning his head to rest against his leg. "I see...I'm glad they let him keep it."

He had known there was a chance that Harry might not be able to keep the Firebolt, but after seeing him fly, he had been intensely reminded of James. When he saw Harry's broom smash into the Whomping Willow and watched the remains of it collected, he had despaired for the boy. If he were anything like James, he was sure that the blow of losing his broom would have been close to losing a friend.

Sirius smiled faintly to himself, helping himself to the pie and bread. You would have been proud of him, Prongs, he thought to his old friend. He really is your son.

That night when Crookshanks left him, he did his best to harden his heart. He could not focus on his task while also muddling through memories that included Peter. Even though thoughts of James and Lily tried to enter into his mind again, he regretfully pushed them away. For now, he had to focus on the hunt.

Over the next few days, Sirius prowled the grounds looking for Peter in his rat form. Something told him that, in spite of his fear, Peter would remain behind at Hogwarts in the hopes that he could return to his happy life as a rat with the Weasleys. He doubted that he would go into the Forbidden Forest unless forced since a small rat would be a delightful supper for most beasts and a middle-aged wizard would be unwelcome by those same beasts, not to mention the centaurs. If he knew his cowardly friend as well as he did, Sirius suspected he would try to take the easiest way out, which would be to hope that one of the dementors would kill Sirius before he was given a chance to get to him first.

The task, while mundane in nature, reminded him of the many times he had been sent out on tasks for the Order. He had been young when he had joined, barely nineteen, and had the arrogant carelessness that came with youth. He might have been clever and good at escaping, but having reflected on it in Azkaban, some of his work was sloppy. He loathed to admit that he had not done a much better job this time, either. He should have been more patient when he had the passwords to Gryffindor tower. For this, at least, he would do his best to be methodical. He would not tear through the grounds like a mad dog.

While Crookshanks searched inside the castle, Sirius hunted the outside grounds. The cat's assistance had been integral to him tracking Peter at Hogwarts initially and it seemed that he could reasonably surmise that Peter had left the castle altogether since Crookshanks had been unable to find him there. Even with that small reassurance, Hogwarts's grounds were still massive and Peter, as a rat, would be able to sneak away from him in that form.

He had begun to despair on finding him at all, aware by the change in weather that they were getting close to the end of term. He was nearly panicking and contemplating some very drastic measures until at last Crookshanks joined him outside the castle and came to him with the news.

Forest house, had been the words Crookshanks had communicated, but what he understood it to mean was Hagrid's hut.

And there, indeed, was where he found Peter. He could not hide the snarl of frustration from Crookshanks when he saw that the Weasley boy had a hold of him upon their exit from Hagrid's hut. He could hear Peter's pathetic screeches from across the grounds as he followed them on the edge of the forest, watching the fat little rat writhe in the boy's hands beneath the Whomping Willow.

Crookshanks swished his tail, looking from Sirius to the redhead, the bright eyes narrowing. His intent was clear.

No, Sirius told the cat in his dog form. Stay back.

He crept slowly at first, sending a silent prayer of forgiveness to the universe. He had done his best to avoid harming innocents, but there was nothing else to be done. The boy had been stubbornly defending Peter since Crookshanks had been trying to bring him to Sirius. If he was going to protect the rat, then he would have to go down with him.

The succeeding events happened too rapidly for it to be anything but rational. Him, dragging the boy down into the Whomping Willow, Harry and the girl screaming after him, and then just as quickly following behind him. He did not blame Harry for wanting to kill him – if he had been fed the story that the Ministry had put out, he would have wanted to kill him, too, if he were in his position. He did not want absolution, had decided to play the villain brilliantly if it meant that he could succeed where he had failed, but the pain of facing Harry, as if James himself was yelling at him made him falter. For a moment, he lost his composure and the façade, trying to plead his case. He expected the rage, the misunderstanding, but not the words that fell out of Harry's mouth without warning.

"You never heard her, did you? My mum...trying to stop Voldemort killing me...You did that – you did it!"

Sirius stared up at him from the floor, wordless. He should have been thinking of that moment, was even struck dumb that Harry somehow recalled that moment, yet his mind has shot straight back to the last request Lily had ever made of him. "I need you to promise that if there comes a time, you'll save Harry first."

Was he not trying to do that now? Had he not tried to do it then? What was all this for, if not to avenge them, to keep Harry safe from Peter?

For a moment, he forgot why he was even there. It was as though, until Harry had reminded him of her, he had forgotten that Lily had been long dead for thirteen years. Lily had tried to protect Harry, had failed, and now here he was, seemingly failing just as she had done. If he could not fulfill his promise to her, then what? Was there any point to this?

He knew he was talking, even as Remus unexpectedly burst into the room, and while he was present, his mind was still back in that moment. He could not let go of it. He had made Lily so many promises in his life, some of them easier to keep than others. In his mind, it had been as much of a promise to James as it had been to her. He knew that, in spite of everything, they had loved Harry more than themselves. They had a choice to leave their son there and run and instead, they had stayed behind, they had tried to save him. He owed it to Lily and James to protect Harry – even if he hated him for it and even if he thought he was the reason Lily was dead. He would bear that pain if it only meant being the godfather that James envisioned and keeping his promise to her. He would not let them down this time. He could not afford another mistake. His sanity would break if he did.

Sirius became present just in time to chuckle to himself when Remus described the prank he had played on Snape. He had almost forgotten about it, although he noticed that Remus tactfully did not mention that it had been he, Sirius, who had gone on after Snape and James had reported the entire ordeal to the headmaster. In his typical fashion, Remus was being as honest as he could without causing more grief.

Just as he felt a surge of affection for his old friend, the entire room was startled when the unfortunate man himself pulled off James's old invisibility cloak and brandished his wand towards Sirius.

If he had been in a better mindset or perhaps if he was younger and less weary, Sirius might have commented, "Looks like we're having a party," but he could not find the energy to goad Snape just then. He was almost as unpleasant a visitor as Peter.

Remus, always the pacifist, tried his best to intercede before things got out of hand. He made the mistake, however, of terming his and Sirius's association as a 'schoolboy grudge.' He had the impression that even the teenagers in the room could sense that this went beyond a grudge and even beyond school. Their dislike of each other had initially stemmed from Sirius's hatred of all things Dark Arts, along with his friendship to James, and had ballooned into something malignant when he had begun to secretly date Lily. Snape had been the only one who had known and, miraculously, he had kept his mouth shut, although never when they crossed paths. The two of them had been in more shouting matches and duels than even Snape and James. Whereas James was often playful, he and Snape had always had deathly intent in mind – Snape, for thinking that Sirius had stolen his love from him and Sirius, for hating him that he had ever hurt her in the first place.

Outside of school, he had more than one unfortunate encounter with Snape. It had brought the worst out in him. He had promised that he would be out for his life outside of school after the handful of times that Snape attempted to curse him at Hogwarts. He never did manage to kill Snape, although when he had bitterly expressed this to James once, his friend had suggested that his heart was not as dedicated to it as he believed. It had irritated him at the time and rather than taking it as a compliment, he had interpreted it as being too weak to kill a man that had been after his life since they were teenagers.

The injustice now that he, Sirius, had been locked up in Azkaban, but Snape was walking free and even teaching at Hogwarts was too much to swallow. After Snape tied Remus up, the two of them glared at each other in open loathing. For a brief moment, he fantasized about killing him, torturing him with crucio and tearing him to pieces. But just like before, he did not feel it deep enough in his heart to take such action. He refused to sink to his level, even if he had been in Azkaban for thirteen years.

"Give me a reason to do it," Snape whispered maliciously, "and I swear I will."

Sirius wanted to laugh in his face and if he had been the younger, more arrogant version of himself, he would have done as much. Yet as much as he hated Snape, he was not here to kill him – he had come out for Peter. He had at least gained some semblance of maturity after school, even if it was a marginal amount.

He did not have to choose on whether to curse or kill Snape to get him out of the way, however, because Harry and his two friends made that decision for him.

Looking at Harry, he saw what he had seen in Lily so many years ago – the willingness to accept even the most flawed person. Once again, Sirius was being given an opportunity to show his true self to someone and a small sliver of trust was being extended towards him.

I'm giving you a chance, his godson's expression seemed to say, so don't waste it.

This, at least, was a simple decision.

Sirius kicked a rock over the cliffside, unable to help the bitter smile that lit his lips afterward. The water crashed against the bottom of the cliff and although he could hear the waves, he could barely see them through the fog. Turning away, he made his way back to the lighthouse situated at the edge of the cliff. It was nearly evening and Buckbeak the hippogriff was pecking at the meat that he had procured for the beast. He ruffled his wings towards Sirius in a congenial sort of manner, chomping down on his meal as Sirius passed him to go inside the lighthouse. Inside, it was quiet and mostly empty. The lighthouse had been abandoned years ago. He, James, Remus, and Peter had discovered it one summer while they were on vacation and had spent many nights here watching balmy sunsets. They had never returned to it after that summer, but it looked just as unchanged. Sirius had even found one of the etchings that James had put into the wall, a comically misshapen Snitch.

Sitting at the small fire he had built in the hearth, he released a long sigh as he leaned back in the broken chair. Once again, he had managed to make a mistake and now Peter was likely planning to flee to find Voldemort. There was no other alternative for him now, especially since Dumbledore would be aware now of his existence – Harry and Hermione had assured him of that. He had spent several nights reminding himself that nothing in his pursuit of Peter had been rational, planned, or particularly organized, so it only made sense to expect failure. He had let his emotions get the best of him more than once and he could not have planned for Snape teaching at Hogwarts or Remus being caught on a full moon.

The universe was against me that night, he bitterly reflected, sinking further into the chair. Merlin himself could have arrived and I still wouldn't have gotten a hold of Wormtail.

"You look like you could use a drink," a quiet, tired voice said from beyond him. He had not even noticed Remus enter the lighthouse, although he noticed that the latter male did not enter much further into the room, perhaps wary of presuming too much.

Inspecting him, Sirius felt a pang of remorse. His friend had aged significantly in the years that Sirius had been in Azkaban and life had not been good to him. He looked haggard, run-down, and wearing some of the most patched-up clothing he had ever seen. Remus had never been well-off, of course, but this was a new low for him. It was clear his status as a werewolf had hindered his progress in life and Sirius's heart broke for him. It had always been a fear of Remus's that he would never be accepted in the world after Hogwarts. He hated that those fears had come to fruition.

"What've you got there?" Sirius asked, straightening up in his chair and nodding towards the small bundle Remus had in his hands.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Remus admitted, holding it out as he approached him, "but hopefully enough to get you by for now. I appreciate you meeting me here. Seemed like it was the safest place."

"I doubt Wormtail even remembers this lighthouse," Sirius remarked, digging through the bundle. "Not that he'd go to places that remind him of his past life."

"I prefer not to assume I know what he thinks anymore."

Sirius set the Firewhiskey aside, happy to find that there was a change of clothing in the bundle. He immediately shrugged out of his Azkaban uniform and into the warmer, more comfortable robes and cloak that Remus had procured for him. The first thing he had done when he arrived at the lighthouse had been to trim his facial hair and hair back to a more acceptable length. Now that he had a change of clothes, he felt a little more normal and less like a criminal.

Remus was watching him with a wistful expression, offering a tiny smile when their eyes met.

"Stop looking at me that way, Remus," Sirius told him with a frown. "None of this was your fault."

"I know," Remus said and then sighed. "Let's conjure something a bit more comfortable, shall we?"

With a few elegant turns of his wand, two new chairs had been conjured, along with two glasses and a small table for the Firewhiskey to sit upon. The chairs were not particularly attractive, being covered in an ugly floral pattern, but they were comfortable and Sirius was grateful for the companionship when he sat down in front of the fire. He was just as grateful for the Firewhiskey, which burned down his throat and made him cough in appreciation.

"I want to apologize," Remus spoke after a few seconds.

"If that's why you came here, save your breath. I don't want to hear an apology from you of all people."

"After everything that has happened, I think you owe it to me to hear me out, Sirius."

Sirius turned his glass in his hand, frowning, and then shrugged. "Fine. Go ahead, then."

"I'm sorry for doubting you." Sirius glanced at him as Remus bowed his head over his glass, looking so lost and forlorn that he feared he might weep. "I let my own friend waste away in Azkaban. I should have believed in you – and now – "

"Remus," Sirius interrupted firmly before he could continue, "don't blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done for me back then. This was all my fault."

"No – how could it – "

"I told them to change their Secret Keeper to Peter! James hadn't wanted to, but Lily overrode him."

"You can't blame yourself for that. None of us knew."

"James suspected. He didn't trust Wormtail at the end."

"But nobody thought he would sell them out to Voldemort," Remus insisted. "We all thought he was acting funny, but just thought he was going to run away rather than stay in the Order. None of us ever suspected he would change sides."

"Do you think I haven't thought about this for the past thirteen years?" Sirius bit out sharply. "There were multiple times that James voiced his concerns about Wormtail, not even just at the end. He didn't think that he should have even been in the Order in the first place. I blew him off because I didn't care to look at it too closely – I just thought Peter was scared of getting himself killed and explained away most of his behavior to that. That wasn't the only time he betrayed us, Remus. There were times during battles he would go missing and who knows if the spells getting shot at us were his or a Death Eater's? It would've been too hard to tell."

"Then I would be complicit in what happened. If you remember, it was I who convinced James not to go to Dumbledore about keeping Peter out of the Order. We both made mistakes because we thought he was our friend." Remus took a drink of his Firewhiskey and then shook his head bitterly. "You're not the only one who relives memories. I lost everything the night that Lily and James died. I kept asking myself why you didn't kill me that night at my flat when we were alone. If I'd remembered that conversation better, I wouldn't have ever suspected you could be capable."

"What conversation?" Sirius asked blankly, looking away from the fire. "About what?"

"I don't blame you for forgetting. Until this last year, I'd completely forgotten." Remus smiled slightly. "About you and Lily – well, your feelings in any case."

Sirius said nothing to this immediately, hearing the prodding question.

"I remember asking you about Marlene then," Remus continued quietly, drinking from his glass, "and you kind of dodged what I was really asking. I didn't push it then because she had just passed away and you didn't seem ready to talk about it."

Sirius made a noncommittal sound to this, dropping his gaze to the flames of the fire.

"Like I said, I already knew. I should have known that you never would have turned them in to Voldemort. I let my emotions get the best of me, though. And I'm sorry for that, Padfoot, old friend. It was hard when you were taken away and everyone else was presumably dead and the Daily Prophet started running stories. After all we'd been through during the war, I thought that it must be true – that maybe your mind had snapped or you were under the Imperius Curse. It didn't occur to me to even think about what you had told me."

"And what about now?" Sirius questioned softly. "Are you asking if I'm ready to talk about it now?"

Remus's brow creased as he glanced at him. "I don't know that you should."

"Maybe not," he agreed, "but ever since I escaped Azkaban, all I've had are my thoughts and memories for company. Anything you ask me can't torture me more than what I've done to myself."

"Well," Remus sighed, "then let's just start with the easy one, the one I asked back then – did you tell Lily about Marlene?"

"No," Sirius answered. "Not about what happened in school or afterwards. James asked me not to, so I didn't."

"And...Harry?"

Sirius smiled to himself, knowing what the question was without Remus needing to put it into words. There was so much context to Harry's conception, but that was not a story he was quite ready to revisit. "He's not mine, if that's what you're asking. Outside of the fact that he's a spitting image of James, I know that he's not."

"I had to ask."

"I don't fault you for asking," Sirius reassured him, reaching out and refilling his glass. "But speaking of Harry, how is he, Remus? Growing up with his Muggle family and without any parents?"

Remus accepted the change of subject gracefully and gave the question serious consideration before answering. "Honestly, for all that he's been through, he's pretty well-adjusted."

"Yeah?" Sirius took a sip, peering over the rim at Remus. "As well-adjusted as we were as kids?"

"Much more so," Remus reassured him with a laugh. "We were in detention almost every week and that's not even to mention the amount of bullying we did as kids."

"I don't know that I'd call it bullying."

"Of course, you wouldn't." Remus gave him a fond smile. "You weren't on the sidelines watching it happen. Sometimes I really hated how you and James went after some kids, but I wasn't about to tell either of you what to do."

"Oh, you tried a few times, just not successfully." Sirius paused, thinking back to the small bit of interaction he had with Harry and his friends. "That girl he's with doesn't seem to have that problem."

"Hermione? Oh, no, definitely not. She's got her head on straight." Remus peered into his glass, his smile fading. "To be honest, I didn't tell Harry how close I was to James until the Shrieking Shack."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Remus caught sight of the outraged scowl on Sirius's face and quickly looked away. "How was I supposed to tell him stories of our boyhood without talking about you? Or Peter? No, I felt it best to keep my stories to myself. I didn't want to think about them. It was hard enough returning to Hogwarts as a teacher when I felt I didn't deserve it, let alone working with Severus. I knew he disapproved of me working there and believed I was helping you into the castle, but I was desperate for work. I knew I could never fill James's shoes and it felt, at times, that Harry was looking for that father figure. I'm sorry, but it was too much of a responsibility for me. You would do a better job of it."

"How can you say that about yourself? You would have been a fine father if you had ever settled down."

"But I didn't," Remus said matter-of-factly, "and I had been caught up in too many memories at Hogwarts, questioning everything. Some days, it felt like I was working in a cemetery instead of a school. I kept remembering faces of people in our classes that I know are dead now. Everything about Hogwarts reminded me about you and James and Peter. I couldn't unload that on a thirteen-year-old boy. It wouldn't make any sense to him."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly. "No, I suppose not. I barely understand it myself and I'm living it."

Remus, in contrast, had leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting against his knees. "Harry could really use you, Sirius. He misses his parents, even without knowing them."

Sirius opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Rather than feel comforted, there was a heaviness on his chest. Of all the things that Remus could have asked him, this was one that he was not expecting. The circumstances surrounding Harry's birth had been complicated and for him, immensely painful, but he had loved his godson the moment he was born. Anyone that was in their inner circle had cherished Harry when he was a baby and had pampered him, even Dumbledore. He had practically been raised communally by the Order, loved and appreciated by all. All of the children had been treated thusly in their group, including Neville Longbottom.

It had been easier for Sirius to adjust then; he had been younger and could better detach himself from his emotions. Now, however, even his happiest memories were painful and every part of his emotional being felt raw, like a fresh wound was constantly seeping out of him. He could not imagine himself being a good role model for Harry, let alone his father figure. He was too broken of a man these days.

"I promise I'd protect him and I will, but I don't think I'm the right person for that."

"Why?" Remus turned his head to eye him speculatively. "I think you're the only person for it, personally."

"I don't want to lie to him."

"I hate to tell you this, Sirius, but that's part of being an adult." Remus straightened, filling his glass and then shaking the bottle before returning it to the table. He took a large swig, smacking his lips and giving his head a tiny shake. "Let Harry have his memory of James and Lily and how he thinks they were together. It comforts him to imagine them as this perfect, heroic couple – something to aspire to. You and I both know that's not true. I saw them get into enough fights to know that, if circumstances had been different, they might never have gotten married or would have divorced sooner. A kid doesn't want to hear that about his parents."

A corner of Sirius's mouth tilted upward in a humorless smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Remus caught sight of his expression and hesitated a beat before asking, "What would help you right now?"

Sirius seriously contemplated the question. The gloomier side of him wanted to say nothing, to bitterly regale his mistakes to his old friend, but then he remembered how Harry's face had lit up when Sirius had offered him to live with him. In spite of the fact that he had been wanting to kill him only hours earlier, Harry had looked at him with such delight that it had been blinding. It had been a long time since someone had seemed so excited for his company. Rather than be repulsed by the idea, Harry had seemed excited at the prospect of them living together. He had hated to disappoint him after him and Hermione had rescued him, although he had hoped that giving Harry permission to go out to Hogsmeade would make up for it in some way.

It would have made him happy to be able to be an actual godfather to Harry, to live up to James and Lily's expectations of him for their son. For a brief second, he had allowed himself to hope for something so normal, but of course that was too much to expect. He could not think of a time in his life where anything had been normal – not his childhood, his relationship with Lily, and certainly not his life during or after the war. He had lived in extraordinary circumstances, something he had loathed from the moment he was aware that his life was different than his peers. At the heart of it, he knew what he had wanted his entire life and of all the people, he knew that Remus would understand.

"Feeling normal," he answered at last.

Remus smiled gently. "I know that feeling."

The two of them fell into a companionable silence for a time, each of them caught in their respective thoughts as they drank finished up the last of the Firewhiskey. Nearly a half hour had passed before the silence was broken again.

"Nobody would judge you for what happened, Sirius," Remus said into the quiet.

"You say that pretty confident for someone who doesn't know all the details," Sirius remarked with a bark of laughter. "Looking back at it now, I can see that none of us looked good – me, Lily or James. We were all making stupid decisions back then."

"I don't think anyone was intentionally trying to hurt anyone." Remus pulled out his wand and leaned down, prodding the dying fire. It lit anew and he added another log to it, returning back to the chair and setting his wand aside. "Let's be honest, we were all still young back then – not even twenty-five yet. We had just gotten out of school, some of us into jobs, and then the war happened. That's a lot to take on all at once and people weren't exactly thinking straight. I remember a lot of people getting married to people they had only dated for a few months out of panic that, because their lives might be short, they had to take advantage of it now. There was no guarantee back then and out of those people that survived, not many remained married."

"Yeah, well, that's the problem, isn't it?" Sirius could feel Remus turn his gaze towards him, but he continued to stare into the fire. "None of us were selfish enough."