#sirius threads

He was here.

He was finally here. In Sallow Hills, a place his parents could never get to him. Of course, he also couldn’t leave Sallow again, but the way Marlene, his internet best friend of many years, had described this town... it was worth it.

Sirius had simply materialized on the edge of the border, in the forest. But they didn’t know that. No, Sirius thought they had made a long journey to the town and crossed through the border with a smile across their face, with plans to meet up with  Marlene, who had materialized at that exact same moment across town, complete with her own false memories and a set of family and friends.

Sirius took out their phone to text Marlene, “I’m here!!!!!!” before making their way toward town square, a huge bag slung across their shoulder with everything they wanted to take along with them from their old (imaginary) life.

There was a chill in the air, a sharp one that when she took a breath she could feel it keenly in her lungs to the point that it was almost painful but she had taken a lot worse.

Carols were drifting down from the castle on the hill, most of the students at Hogwarts had of course gone home for Christmas break but there were still enough left behind this year that she could hear them sing.

Cersei glanced over at Sirius as he walked through the snow towards her and the urge to pull her wand out was almost overwhelming.

“If you had any sense you would have fled the country by now, you know that right?”

So she was teaching at Hogwarts, was she? Sirius might have been surprised had he been able to feel anything more than the chill of the night and a desperation to get into the castle. He had tried over Halloween, but the Fat Lady’s portrait had gotten in his way, kept him from finishing what he’d set out to do: to kill the rat and be done with it. He had hoped the castle would be empty enough over the holidays that he’d be able to get in again without setting off so many alarms, so much panic. But luck, it seemed, was not on his side. The castle was bursting with life, with song and food and cheer. Getting in now would be a miracle. 

Not that it mattered anymore. He could not believe he’d gotten this far only to be stopped by Cersei Lannister.

When he laughed, it was a hallow, humorless sound. “I haven’t had any sense in a long time,” he said, which was perhaps the sanest sentence--or at least the most self aware--that he’d spoken in ages. His voice sounded strange even to his own ears. He’d not had much reason to use it in twelve years, and now that he did, it was hoarse and gruff and as much of a growl as the dog he became. The dog he wished he were now. Everything was so much easier when he was Padfoot. His mind was quieter. Thinking was less painful. Existing did not feel like such a damned chore. 

Andromeda didn’t approve of the swearing so much but the sentiment was enough to make her smile and a small bubble of laughter to escape from her. Family had always been important to her and she missed her sister’s dearly but that had been the price she had to pay to find her happiness with Ted and she had paid it. Still, she was not entirely alone. Ted’s family had taken her in much as the Potter’s had taken Sirius in and she was thankful that at least they still had each other. She was proud of him, so proud that he had taken those bold steps forward to forge his own path in life, that he had not buckled under the pressure, had not given up the dream of a better, more tolerant life where freedom of choice was a reality. It was such a shame that Regulus had been unable to do the same, that her Little Cissa had been unable to do the same. Bella was lost, she had been lost a long time ago.

“I’m not worried so much about the laughter, rather the judgement. They all know where I came from and, unlike you, I played the part I was required to play for most of the years of my life.” She paused and poked him lightly in the chest, a warmth and fondness in her gentle smile. “You were a rebel almost from the beginning.”

Seventeen and still young enough to believe he was invincible, Sirius had little to worry about--except of course dying in this war, but that thought didn’t scare him nearly as much as losing the family he’d created for himself. He’d been out of his parents house a year now and still thought about Regulus nearly every day. He thought about his parents too, but that was mostly in his nightmares. He now grinned over at his cousin as she poked his chest. What she said might be true, but it still seemed incredible that she’d stayed in that home as long as she had, that she’d put up with Bella and the rest. Especially Bella. 

“Yeah, well, you married just about the nicest man in the world,” Sirius said, shrugging. “No one’s going to look at you and see dear old Bella now--well, they will.” They looked so alike. “But they’ll see that you’re different. How can they not? I’m sure Ted’s family adores you.” He snorted. “You have met my mother, haven’t you? If you’d grown up with her in the house all the time, you’d have rebelled too.” Though this wasn’t entirely true either. At least not for Regulus. 

A sound to his left made Sirius look around just in time to see Dora, five now, running by with Ted on her heels. Sirius had originally come by to give her a gift--or at least used it as an excuse: a stuffed Niffler he’d charmed to change the color of its hair and shape of its nose whenever she did--or at least until the ten or so options he’d given it ran out. He thought suddenly of the ring on Lily’s finger, the upcoming wedding of his best friends mere months after they’d graduated from Hogwarts. A baby would come next, and that meant he’d have to learn how to hold one. And feed it. And change it’s diapers. 

Dora sighed and shook her head with a touch of fondness in her expression, waving her wand and summoning another two bottles of beer. She knew that she was enabling his somewhat reckless behaviour and impulses but it was his life and his choice and besides, she liked a beer as much as the next person.

“Look, I know he’s a git but he’s not that much of a git surely? I mean, Dumbledore vouches for him, that should be enough.” Dora didn’t even know why she was trying to defend one of the most terrifying people she’d ever met. Merlin, she remembered the rage and disdain emanating from him when he had loomed over her and her disastrous potions in her first few years at Hogwarts. She came from a bright, happy if somewhat chaotic household, primarily because of her antics and those dungeons were just damned depressing. She popped the lid off her bottle of beer and took a swig in a manner that absolutely was not ladylike and would have earned her a disapproving glare from her mum.

“Besides, Harry is due back soon and the Weasley’s too. Don’t you think those extendable ears are amazing?” She gestured with her hand as she spoke, a little of her beer sloshing onto the floor. “Merlin, can you imagine what we could have done with those?” Dora spoke with fondness in her voice, her hair shifting from the purple to her favoured bubblegum pink complete with spikes.

Sirius nodded his thanks as he took the butterbeer from mid air and popped it open on the edge of the table. The stuff wasn’t nearly strong enough--not after the last row he’d had with Severus in this very kitchen an hour before--but even Sirius knew it wasn’t sensible to get raging drunk in the afternoon while sitting with his youngest cousin and half the Order still mulling around in the living room, on their way out after the last meeting. Sirius tried his best not to drink when Harry was around, to keep it to a minimum when the Order was in session, less they think he was even more useless than they already did. But when everyone left, as they were now--when it was only him and Kreacher and his mother’s portrait alone in this terrible house--Sirius and a bottle of firewhiskey made a very good match. 

“Yeah, well, Dumbledore can make mistakes.” He thought of the Fidelius Charm, how Dumbledore, as the charmer, knew Sirius hadn’t been the secret keeper and still let him rot in Azkaban--though, he supposed, it wasn’t so far fetched a story: the way Dumbledore saw it, Peter betrayed the Potters and Sirius had hunted him down, lost his mind from the grief of James’ death, and blasted the street apart. But why had he never bothered to tell anyone he wasn’t a death eater? Then Sirius thought of the wand in his pocket, a wand he’d never have procured if Dumbledore hadn’t put in a favor with Ollivander, convinced the old wand maker that Sirius was not, in fact, a crazed mass murderer and needed some way to defend himself. Dumbledore who, like Tonks and Kingsley, helped keep the Ministry looking for him in the wrong direction. Dumbledore who ordered him to stay locked in this house, doing absolutely nothing. Sirius’ thoughts about Dumbledore changed by the hour. 

“You’ve seen the way he talks to everyone here. Like he’s so much better than the rest of us. The way he talks to Harry. He has no business teaching at Hogwarts.” Severus was terrible with children. There wasn’t much time left until the summer holidays, but Sirius hadn’t heard much from Harry about his occlumency lessons, and that alone worried him. 

Molly shook her head as she continued to wipe down the kitchen counter. She had found that in recent days she preferred to do some things the muggle way rather than using magic. There was something about using her hands in such a manual way that made it easier to distract herself from the more sinister, worrying thoughts that had taken root. Her children were almost all grown now and they were in more danger now than they had been in the first war. Bill and Charlie were abroad and Percy, well, she cried herself to sleep some nights at the thought of never being able to reconcile with her son. She kept her tears held in as much as she could because she knew how Arthur felt about it all but on those nights he was undertaking guard duty, she curled in on herself and cried, the blanket bunched in her hands.

“If there was, I never found out about it.” She replied with a soft sigh. There had been some problems, issues between her and Sirius in the beginning but she saw him more frequently than most did and in these moments where it was just the two of them rattling around the house, they had found a sense of peace between them that was almost easy. They were both particularly headstrong, just in different ways, but she wished him no ill and she hoped the feeling was mutual.

“We were close Sirius but not that close. I was the youngest remember, it wasn’t uncommon for them to keep things from me. Something that my twins seem to have inherited.”

Sirius didn’t know quite how to tell Molly just how much he appreciated her company in this awful place. The summer, after all, had not gone particularly well, the two barking at once another through gritted teeth and forced politeness, but even then--when he was sure she hated him--he had appreciated her dedication to making the house liveable, to finding all the pests in every haunted cupboard, though she didn’t truly know the half of it. The darker items of his mothers’ he’d thrown out before anyone else could come across them--though with what they had found, Sirius doubted anyone in the Order would imagine it could get any worse.

 Number 12 Grimmauld Place might have been the most well-protected building in Britain, but some days, Sirius still didn’t understand why they didn’t all just pack up and leave, having decided that Dumbledore was wrong and Sirius really was a mad mass murderer. Every day he spent in this place, he felt more like the teenager he’d once been, convinced that his name and his family painted a sign on his chest reading: evil dark wizard, do not approach. But then Sirius had learned more about the Dursleys, and if Harry--who was the best person Sirius knew--could have come from such horrible people then there really must be more to character than blood. He’d known that once, back before Azkaban, back when he thought he’d still had a chance at some sort of life, some future. Everything was hazier now, harder to trust, to move forward.

The point was: after Christmas, he really had come to enjoy Molly’s company, and not just because she was one of the only people beside Remus who ever stopped by for more than brief Order meetings. 

Sirius had been staring at the same page in the same book for over an hour, and he hadn’t taken in a word of it--not only because he was well convinced he didn’t need it, that he’d memorized everything worth knowing about NEWT-level transfiguration by his fifth year, but also because the Daily Prophet left on the Gryffindor table was blinking up at him with an insistent horror. That the front page was anther detailed expose of butchery was not so surprising--every day there were more muggle killings, muggle-born killings, squibs gone missing, half-bloods massacred--but this one was different. Sirius recognized the “handiwork.” The family hadn’t just been killed--they’d been played with, a monster poking at her food before she took the last bite, and he knew, though the reporter in the article claimed there were no witnesses, that this was the work of his cousin, Bellatrix. 

His blood, his family line, had struck again. 

He slammed the textbook closed and grabbed the newspaper instead, staring at the video of the dilapidated house, the bodies, as if he could apologize by staring at them intensely enough, as if anything he did while still at school would mean anything at all. He should be out there, now, fighting alongside everyone and anyone who might be able to put a stop to this. He’d heard rumors, whispers about a group Dumbledore was putting together, but even if it was true, the headmaster would never allow his students to join--not while they were still in school anyway, and graduation was months away.

Sirius sighed and moved to the common room fire, feeding the newspaper to the flames and flopping down into one of the overstuffed chairs to watch it burn. As he leaned forward, warming his hands before the flickering yellow and red, he glanced to his left to find the only other Gryffindor awake at this hour. Brandon was another seventh year, no doubt with enough studying of his own to do, though Sirius doubted it was his real reason for being up so late anymore than it was Sirius.’

Sirius was never late to anything but class, and even then, it wasn’t because he didn’t know the time but because he and James were still huddled in a too-dark secret passage, chest to chest and stifling their laughs, eager to find out where the tunnel led while Sirius tried desperately not to stare at James’ lips under the soft glow of his lit wand. He took a long inhale now on his cigarette and let the smoke burn out the memory, the longing. It had worked before--at least he told himself it did--so he was sure it could work again. The minute turned over, and as the hour hit, Sirius dropped his cigarette and stomped it out in the snow, moving from his hiding place behind Three Broomsticks and in through the front door. 

As always, the building was packed with Hogwarts’ students, and the fire glowed warm and orange in the center hearth, while Madam Rosmerta fluttered around, filling goblets and making small talk with her patrons. Sirius ordered two butter beers, evaded her questions about James-- “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here without Potter. I thought you two had a permanent sticking charm between you.”--and then took a seat at the back to wait for a glimpse of bright red hair. 

Meme I Lost || @aparecium-muses

“It’s not your fault.” The words were instinct at this point, more mantra than truth. Though it was not Regulus’ fault, Sirius, tired and beaten down, was having a harder and harder time not resenting his brother: his perfect, spineless little brother. 

Sirius closed his eyes tight. That wasn’t fair. Regulus hadn’t asked for this. He, Sirius, had: of the few fleeting memories he had of the night before, his own voice yelling at his mother to ‘get on with it’ echoed back very clearly in his throbbing head. He’d provoked her. He was always provoking her.  

He would have said more, but his stomach turned over again, and he threw up  into the bowl Reg had gotten for him. “You shouldn’t be up here,” he mumbled when he was through. Of all his mother’s punishments, isolation was truly the moth laughable, but he knew she was getting frustrated, that he was wearing her down: yes, she’d turned his taunting laughter to screams with her curses, but she knew as well as he did that it was only temporary. And she could never keep him in this room. He’d find a way out before nightfall. He always did. 

Still, Regulus was not supposed to be visiting him, and if Sirius was ever going to become a good brother, it would have to mean putting enough distance between them to keep Reg on her good side.