#sirivember

“Peter?” He called into the dark house.

Silence.

“Homenum revelio.”

Nothing.

With his wand still aloft, Sirius pushed the door, creaking as it opened straight into the living room. With a quick flourish of his wrist the lights flickered on and upon first inspection the house appeared to be in perfect order.

As he made his way through the small house, Sirius’s heart picked up pace with every room he checked. The bed was made, there was no laundry in the hamper, not a single dish in the sink, the fridge was empty, no shoes scattered unceremoniously by the door… no sign of a struggle or fight... visceral fear washed over him like a tidal wave, his subconscious drawing the conclusion before his brain dared believe it.

He left without bothering to close the door behind him. Sprinting back down the deserted alley until he grew impatient with the limited speed of his aching legs, he apparated mid-run to where he’d left his bike. It’s engine roared to life as he mounted it and he sped off into the inky blue sky, his heart swinging like a mallet against his chest; it seemed to beat in his ears, his mind racing.

Maybe Peter was with them... but why would he leave when he knew Sirius would be coming to check in? Maybe they’d invited him over for dinner at the last minute, to cheer him up, Lily had been worrying about him over the last few weeks and that would be classic James… maybe, although less likely, he’d received an urgent message from Dumbledore, had left for headquarters, was on business for the Order… These were all plausible possibilities, but Sirius’s mind kept circling back to one.

No. The night was too perfectly azure, the sky too perfectly starry, the air too perfectly serene for something so dreadful to have happened. He would get to James and Lily’s, Peter would be there and Sirius would be annoyed at them for not inviting him. He repeated it in his mind, like a mantra, picturing it as if to manifest it into existence.

He hurtled gracelessly down into the small village, skidding to a rough halt on the cobbles of the familiar lane. Sirius pushed off of his bike, the metal scraped the pavement loudly as he let it fall unceremoniously on its side. Leaving it behind without so much as a second glance at it, he sprinted toward the cottage at the very end of the lane.

They would be there. James would open the door and laugh at how out of breath he was. Peter, the idiot, would apologise for his forgetfulness and Lily would tell them all to stop being gits and eat their dinner. They would be there. They would be there...

And then he saw it.

“Shit!” it came out of his mouth a whisper.

His insides seemed to constrict and his hands flew to his head, clenching fistfulls of hair as he stared, wide-eyed, up at the wreckage, “fuck... fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

The entire top right half of the cottage had been completely blown apart, massive chunks of roof were missing and still smoking in places, debris and rubble was scattered everywhere, strewn across the previously immaculate garden, and the windows were dark, empty and still.

He swayed dangerously on his feet, crouching down, he leant on the cottage’s low, wrought iron gate, taking shuddering breaths; bracing himself, as if he could ever be ready, as if anything could prepare him for what he might find inside.

Every second he spent crouched at the gate felt like an inevitable countdown to his worst fears realised. Hoping against all hope, he thought perhaps they weren’t inside at all, perhaps they’d managed to escape... found a way... that was what James did, he always found a way.

He forced himself to look back up at the house, his palms sweating as he gripped the gate tighter still, even from here, he could see the front door was already ajar. With one last shuddering breath, Sirius pulled himself up and wrenched it open, willing himself forward.

The silence behind the door was deafening, a confirmation. He wanted simultaneously to stay rooted to the spot and turn around, get as far from there as was possible.

He was being stupid. Had it been Sirius’s house standing in wreckage, James would have burst in, wand ablaze without a moment's hesitation. He pressed his lips together and exhaled heavily through his nose, before lifting a trembling hand to push open the door.

He hadn’t even taken two steps when he saw it. Sirius staggered backwards, tripping over his own feet, his breath coming in rasps as he stared at it.

An arm, outstretched, sprawled across the hallway… wisps of dark hair only just visible through the door frame, where the rest of James was hidden.

He clambered to his feet, holding onto the wall to steady himself as he doubled over. With each rasping breath came a low, strangled groan, and though he thought he might be sick, he had to see, he had to be sure, otherwise this wasn’t real.

Straightening up he stood against the wall and began edgeding forward slowly, until he reached the doorframe. Sirius glanced once more at the outstretched arm at his feet, before pushing himself away from the wall to look through the doorway.

What he saw would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life.

James, his face pale and his eyes wide, lifeless and unseeing.

Something seemed to claw its way up from the deepest pit of his stomach before it tore through his throat, a noise that sounded more like it belonged to a wounded animal than a human being. He turned away. His legs finally gave in and his back slammed against the wall. Curling up into himself, he began taking deep, heaving breaths that seemed not to be reaching his lungs at all, a heaviness began closing in on his chest, enveloping his lungs like a shroud.

James’s rigid arm was still visible through his peripheral vision, he was sprawled out on his front halfway out the room like he’d been running toward the front door, and Sirius knew instinctively that he probably had been.

This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be happening. What should he do? What could he do? He began to hyperventilate, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

However long he’d sat there with his head between his knees, he wasn’t sure. It might have been hours before he was jolted back to the present by the sound of heavy, muffled footsteps coming from the floor above.

His head snapped up and he listened intently, the ceiling above him creaked again and Sirius stood bolt upright. With his eyes glued to the ceiling, he searched with a shaking hand for his wand, walking quietly down the hall toward the staircase, adrenaline filled determination urging him forward.

Whoever it was, if it was him, he would avenge his friends or die trying and join them. He would run towards death like he knew James had, only moments ago.

Sirius had just lifted a foot, placing it gingerly on the first step, when a grizzling, whimpering cry rang through the decrepit house.

“Harry,” he whispered, and without a second thought or a moment's hesitation he climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time, stumbling loudly over the debris with his wand aloft. He knew where to go, even in its current state, he’d know this house and its halls with his eyes closed.

Despite his lack of stealth, no one met him at the landing and Harry’s grizzling grew louder still, before breaking out into a full blown shrieking cry. Sirius clambered frantically over splintered wood and rubble toward the nursery; the starry sky was visible above him now, the roof completely missing.

The heavy footsteps in the nursery, now only feet away from him, shifted again, quicker this time, the floor beneath them creaked dangerously and a familiar, booming voice came from the room.

“If yeh know wha’s good for yeh, yeh won’ come any closer!”

Sirius, wide-eyed and pale with his wand still aloft, stepped through the now almost non-existent doorframe, to see Hagrid, of all people, tear streaked and protectively cradling a screaming Harry.

Had Sirius been less preoccupied with Harry’s screams and the tangle of dark, red hair he’d noticed, only just visible behind Hagrid’s colossal feet, he might have thought it odd that the gamekeeper was pointing at him what appeared to be a pink umbrella.

Having registered who he was, Hagrid bawled, “Sirius!” great big tears rolling from his eyes, “Yeh shouldn’ be here, yeh shouldn’ be seein’ this... James an’ Lily-”

“Harry,” Sirius repeated, “how? How’s he alive? What happ-” he trailed off, having noticed the deep, red gash across his godson’s forehead, “Is he okay?”

“I think so… don’ know exactly,” said Hagrid, his voice thick, “got here an’ he was all alone, underneath all this… ” he gestured to the pile of wood and rubble around them “... an’ James an’ Lily… an’ somehow he’s gone, Voldermort, he’s gone.”

Harry’s shrieks subsided to a whiny grizzling as he looked at Sirius; a familiar face in the absence of the ones he knew so well. He began to squirm a little, reaching out to him.

“Give him to me Hagrid,” he croaked, stepping closer, “I’m his godfather, I’ll take him, I’ll look after him.”

“I... I can’ Sirius,” he responded, regretfully, “Dumbledore’s orders…”

“Dumbledore’s orders? James and Lily named me godfather, if anything were to happen to them-”

“Dumbledore’s given me strict instructions ter take Harry straigh’ ter his aunt an’ uncle’s-”

“Aunt and uncle’s?” Anger and confusion began to bubble up inside of him, “what’re you talki-”

“Lily’s sister... she’s the only livin’ family he’s got.”

“I’m his family!” He was yelling now, “Harry doesn't even know them!” Desperation edged into his voice, “they don’t know him! Give him here Hagrid,” he demanded, holding his arms out, hands trembling.

“I’m sorry Sirius, really I can’, I’ve got ter take him,” the floor groaned threateningly underneath them as Hagrid shifted his weight, his expression pained.

“Hagrid,” a threatening edge seeped into his voice, “give Harry to me.”

Hagrid stood his ground, tightening his grip on Harry, who was growing increasingly irate, “I can’ Sirius! Dumbledore says it’s the safest place for him... ‘specially now.”

At this, Sirius’s arms went slack and he let them fall back down to his body.

He’d already been wrong about what was safest for his friends, already been wrong about what was safest for Harry. That was reason enough to let Hagrid take him, and if Dumbledore had advised it, it must be best.

“Let’s just get him out of here,” said Sirius finally, his voice breaking, “can I carry him out, Hagrid, please?” he added.

Hagrid hesitated.

“I’m not going to run off with him,” he said, despondently, “here... ” he added, reaching for his keys, “take him on my bike, I won’t need it anymore.”

Relenting, Hagrid lowered Harry into Sirius’s arms and he came gladly, his little arms tightening around Sirius’s neck as he looked apprehensively back at Hagrid.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said quietly to his godson, and they made their way out of the rubble, Hagrid leading the way.

Just as Sirius made to follow Hagrid through to the hall, Harry began squirming furiously again. Surprisingly strong, he kicked his legs, trying to double over in Sirius’s arms. He had spotted her, or perhaps remembered that she was there, keeled over on the floor; his small hands opened and closed as he reached for Lily, “Mummm-maaaa!” he wailed.

He gripped Harry tighter, holding onto him like an anchor, for it was all he could do not to break down himself. He would stay strong for Harry, just for a few more moments... “I know,” he said gently, his voice trembling, “I know, I’ve got you... come on.”

In an effort to distract him, still bawling and squirming in his arms, Sirius pointed up, “Look, Harry... Look,” above them, the roof was completely missing. Harry, still sniffling, followed Sirius’s arm to look up at the starry sky, his little tear streaked face glistening in the moonlight as they walked out of his bedroom.

They descended the stairs slowly and Sirius was careful not to slip on anything, following the path Hagrid set for them. As they reached the bottom, he shifted Harry in his arms, moving closer to Hagrid so as to shield James from his view. Harry had stopped squirming but was still whimpering softly for Lily as he looked curiously around at the wreckage of his home.

They stopped at the front door, the house was beginning to attract attention and a small number of people dawdled as they walked by, their faces aghast as they took in the scene. Hagrid had noticed too, he ducked out of the house and turned around to face Sirius, a hint of urgency in his expectant expression.

Sirius was struck suddenly by the thought that he didn’t know when he would next see his godson again, was suddenly very aware that the only piece of James he had left, was being taken away. It took every ounce of his strength to press his lips against Harry’s temple, the same way James often would, before letting Hagrid take him gingerly from his arms.

“Don’ worry yer self Sirius,” he said, “Harry’s safe with me, you go on an’ look after yer sel-”

“I left my bike down the street,” he interjected, with Harry out of his grip he was dangerously close to losing his composure again, “just get him there safely.”

Hagrid, who’s eyes began welling up again, sniffed loudly and nodded before pulling his giant cloak securely over Harry, turning around and walking back up the garden path, away from the cottage. Sirius stood rooted to the spot, watching as they disappeared beyond the hedges of the neighbouring garden.

He stood there at the door long after they had gone, unsure of what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to go now... More people were beginning to crowd across the street, he heard their gasps, their faint, speculative murmuring.

Finally, he turned away from the door, walking aimlessly off to the side of the hallway and into the kitchen. Crossing the room, Sirius fell despondently into a chair around the small nook, the very one he’d hoped against all hope that he’d be sitting at tonight, surrounded by his living friends... but he was alone. Truly alone.

The collective murmurs of the growing crowd outside grew louder, but Sirius couldn’t fathom that there was still a functioning world beyond what had happened tonight, for his was now devoid of everything that made it worth living in. Devoid of kindness, of laughter and mischief and warmth, devoid of the sun. The best days of his life rose and set with James, and he’d been plunged suddenly into an icy darkness.

His world had been destroyed in one night, blown apart like the house he sat in, no longer a home, but a shell of what it was only mere hours ago, it’s essence laying grey and lifeless on its floors. Perhaps if he sat there long enough, staring blankly like them, at nothing, he could join them.

Sirius’s eyes stung, his throat constricted and he was sobbing, spitting out a salty mix of tears and saliva as his body shook. Shock and grief rolled out of him and his anguished cries rang through the house, piercing the silence.

He was alive and they were not, there would be no respite, no reprieve, he would be forced to continue, forced to suffer, sentenced to life with the knowledge that it was his idea that had been the nail in their coffins... the silence returned abruptly, he stopped crying. For the second time that night a visceral feeling washed over him like a tidal wave.

His heart began to pound dangerously, thumping in his ears as it dawned on him... The unlocked door, the neatly made bed, the perfect, empty house... it suddenly seemed so obvious, all of it. The way he’d manipulated all of them, planted carefully placed seeds of doubt, the way he’d crept unnoticed, like the insidious onset of disease, into their minds.

“That rat,” the words came out of his mouth like venom.

With a rage filled purpose Sirius got to his feet, his expression murderous, jaw set and a clammy hand gripped tightly around his wand. Peter. Peter. Peter. He repeated the name like a mantra, envisioning the face of the man he thought he knew.

He left the house behind, ignoring the eyes and bewildered expressions of the throng of people now crowding on the street outside. He stormed up the garden path, out the gate and down the lane, until finally, with a loud crack Sirius Black disapparated, without the knowledge that that would be the last time he would ever step foot in Godric's Hollow again.

He also probably wouldn’t have expected to be spending this birthday alone, or any of his birthdays. As a child, he had never really celebrated his birthday. Walburga didn’t believe in birthdays, so they were largely overlooked. His twelfth birthday was nearly overlooked, simply because he never bothered to tell anyone about it in those first two months at school. He had never had a reason to be excited for it, so there was no real reason to mention it.

Happy birthday to me.

He did mention it though, in passing, on their way to dinner that evening. James nearly tripped over himself in surprise. It wasn’t a real birthday celebration--not by Marauders’ standards anyhow, which he would come to find out in the following years--but James convinced the whole Gryffindor table to sing Happy Birthday to him (complete with glares from his various cousins at the Slytherin table) and then they blasted through James’s stock of Filibuster’s fireworks and both of their candy supply (they learned that Remus kept his chocolate stash in reserve, the sly devil) in order to “celebrate properly,” according to James.

Sirius still remembers it as one of his best birthdays ever. Second best, if he had to rank them, behind his 17th birthday.

When his thirteenth birthday came around, he wasn’t really sure if he should mention it again. They had celebrated Remus, James, and Peter’s birthdays in the intervening year, but there was still the specter of Walburga lingering in his mind and telling him that no one cared about it, about him. So he went to bed on November second still debating if he should tell James in the morning. He needn’t have worried.

Happy birthday, dear me.

James, Peter, and Remus woke him up early on the morning of his birthday with a resounding round of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow and a stack of presents. They followed him around all day, occasionally breaking into another verse of the song, and made him wear a ridiculous hat that told everyone he met that it was his birthday. It was ridiculous and over the top and exactly what a birthday should be like.

And thirteen-year-old Sirius made a wish on a blown out candle that he could spend every birthday of his life with these boys.

Ten out of thirty-six wasn’t bad, right?

Happy birthday to me.

Sirius felt like it could have—should have— been eleven, but Remus hadn’t shown up today. It wasn’t really fair to hold that against him. Remus hadn’t promised to be here or anything. In fact, he told Sirius that he wasn’t sure he would make it. It’s only four days to the full moon, and Remus was probably thoroughly enmeshed with the pack to prepare for it. It was his mission, after all.

Godric, fuck Albus Dumbledore and his stupid missions. He was the reason Sirius was alone and trapped inside this cage of a house again.

Sirius had also hoped for a letter from Harry, but he hadn’t gotten one. He wasn’t sure that Harry even knew it was his birthday. Harry hadn’t said anything last year—although Sirius had still been on the run then—and Sirius hadn’t ever told him. If Remus hadn’t either, Sirius wasn’t sure there was any reason for Harry to know. Sirius suppressed the niggling feeling of Walburga in his brain telling him that, once again, no one cared about his birthday and he shouldn’t mention it. That wasn’t true—James had proven that, and Harry was simply busy and didn’t realize.

Did Harry even know his parents’ birthdays? SIrius made a mental note to make sure to tell him, along with a million other stories of James and Lily that he promised to share.

And many more…

The front door opened suddenly, and Sirius was standing with his wand pointed at the door to the room. The glass was empty in his hand—from his mindless sipping—but he grasped it tightly. He held his breath, listening to the footsteps come down the hall.

Sirius dropped his wand as Remus came into the room, a wide smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand. Remus no longer even blinked at Sirius’s defensive posture whenever he showed up. Whether it was the war or the years in Azkaban, Sirius couldn’t relax until he knew who it was.

“Happy birthday, Padfoot!” Remus set the bag on the table beside Sirius, then wrapped him in a tight hug.

Sirius sighed and sank into the hug. “Moony.” Sirius let his eyes slide closed, his head resting on Remus’s shoulder, and just accepted the hug. He didn’t even realize he had started crying until Remus pulled back and wiped his tears away with the pads of his thumbs, his hands cupping Sirus’s face.

Remus kissed Sirius, first on his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and then on his lips. “No tears today. If I remember right, you love celebrating your birthday.”

Sirius sniffed. “Sorry. The last dozen or so have been a little less fun, and—” Sirius looked down at his feet, shuffling slightly “—I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Remus kissed him lightly again. “I’m sorry I was late, but I have a surprise that I hope makes up for it.” Remus was beaming again, and just the sight of that smile made the corners of Sirius’s mouth tip up.

“For me?”

Remus scoffed, but his smile didn’t dim. “Of course, for you. It’s not Kreacher’s birthday.” Remus handed Sirius the bag and then took a step back.

Sirius slowly opened the bag and peered inside. He let out an unintentional great bark of laughter. “You remembered!”

Remus’s smile only grew. “Of course, I did.”

Remus took the bag so Sirius could start unloading it. A small pack of Filibuster’s Fireworks and chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s.

“You bought my favorite candy?”

“I even threw my own stash in this time.”

Sirius stood there, holding the boxes of candy, looking at the smile on Remus’s face, and his eyes filled with tears again. Remus pulled the packages from his hands, tossing it on the couch beside them, and then pulling Sirius into his arms once more.

“Hey, no tears, remember?”

Sirius doesn’t apologize this time, but he also can’t stop the tears. “Do you remember my first birthday at Hogwarts? How James had everyone sing to me?”

Remus laughed, but he didn’t release Sirius. “I’ll never forget it. We were all so surprised it was your birthday—you hadn’t said a thing about it.” Remus kissed the side of Sirius’s head. “Remember your eighteenth when we threw the party that got everyone drunk? James and Lily had only just started dating, and he thought she was going to be so mad at him.”

Sirius laughed, pressing his face into the curve of Remus’s neck. “Until she walked down the stairs from her room drunk and snogged him. If he hadn’t already loved her, I think that would have been the moment he fell in love.”

“Didn’t he tell her he loved her that night?”

“He did! Except she didn’t remember it, so he got a chance to do it all over again.” Sirius pulled back to look in Remus’s face. Remus wiped away his tears again. “I remember my seventeenth birthday too.”

Remus smiled that small smile that was reserved only for when he was looking at Sirius. Sirius had always associated that smile with Remus saying I love you. “I remember it too.”

“The look on your face when I kissed you—I’ll never forget it.”

Remus nearly choked on his laugh. “You surprised me! I thought I was destined to love you and watch you love someone else for my entire life.”

Sirius kissed Remus this time—a long, slow kiss that had them both melting. “You’d never said anything.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Nor did you.”

“Thank Merlin for the firewhiskey. I don’t think I would have kissed you otherwise.”

Remus hummed his agreement, then pressed his lips back against Sirius’s. A long moment later, when they broke apart, Remus threaded a strand of hair behind Sirius’s ear. “What do you want to do now?”

Sirius thought for a moment, eyeing the pile of candy on the couch. “Want to go snog in front of my mother’s portrait again?”

Remus laughed. “Yes, I really do.”

For a short time, the entire house was quiet. Then…