promises, oceans deep

???

There's a little boy walking at Sirius’ side.

His too-short legs trip and stumble over the thick foliage; his little fingers grasp at the hem of Sirius’ jacket. The cold has highlighted his button nose pink.

“Sirius!” He lisps, round face intense and furious, “Sirius!”

“What?” Sirius finds himself snapping. 

“You have to slow down!” The little boy urges, fingers clinging tighter, “I can't keep up!”

Sirius lets out a deep sigh and stops in his tracks. A small body presses into his leg, arms curling around the denim. Sirius doesn't think before placing his hand on the little boy's head, brushing the black curls off of his pale forehead.

“I’m sorry, little lion.” Sirius shapes his face into a tight smile, “I’ll go slower now, I promise. I just forget how little your legs are!”

With that, he scoops up the little boy, laughing as he squeals in that childish mix of fear and excitement. The little boy clings to his neck as Sirius settles him on his hip. Sirius continues his walk, now that the little one is secured and settled in his arms. 

It’s a hard journey for someone so tiny to make.

A pale hand reaches for Sirius’ forehead, briefly blocking his vision. Sirius bats the hand away, chuckling, “Oi, what are you playing at?”

The little boy persists with his reaching, poking Sirius’ temple. His grey eyes are pale and scared, “What’s wrong?” 

His little whisper pulls Sirius’ focus from the endless trees, “What are you talking about, little lion?”

“You’re hurt.” Another poke, “Here, on your head. There’s b-blood.”

Sirius’ breath hitches, “...What?”

The little boy is crying now, round face crumbling in fear, “Somebody hurt you! There’s blood, you’re bleeding!”

“No, no, I’m okay, little one!” Sirius tries to comfort, though… now that he thinks about it, his head is pulsating with an aching kind of pain. If he’s to really focus, he can recognise that his left eye is blurry and crusted with something stiff and dried. Something that, yes, could certainly be blood.

Just as the little boy is telling him.

Through his own rising panic, Sirius absently rubs a soothing hand over the bony back of his little companion. He feels a small head push into the crook of his neck, tries not to squirm as tears begin to soak his collar. 

Surely Sirius would remember if he’d been hit in the head. That’s not something you forget. 

“Sirius, I don’t like it here!” The little boy wails, “It’s cold and spooky and I’m hungry!”

“Nearly there, little lion, I promise.” Sirius soothes, forcing his legs to move again. Through the trees and the bushes and the fallen leaves. Pushing through.

They walk in silence for long enough that Sirius assumes that the little boy has fallen asleep on his shoulder. His sniffling and the occasional tightening of his arms are the only signs that he has remained awake through their journey. The wood is still around them, no distant sounds of adventuring animals or bird calls. Only Sirius’ feet on the ground and the sniffling boy in his arms.

After an immeasurable amount of time into this silent trek, the burn in Sirius’ shoulders and back become too much. He’s achier than he should be, for a reason he can’t quite place, and his head is beginning to spin. 

“Little lion?” He whispers, turning his head to rest of the black curls of the young boy, “My arms are getting a bit too tired to carry you like this much longer. Do you think you could be really brave and walk for a short while?”

There’s no sound from the little boy for a long moment, but his anxious fidgeting tells Sirius’ that he heard. Eventually, he lifts his head, pale eyes wide and watery, “Okay. I think I can do that.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius asks, “I know it's a big job.”

The little boy nods this time, round face serious and determined, “Yes, I can do it. Put me down.”

Sirius lets out a little chuckle at the demanding tone from such a young thing, though he doesn't hesitate in obeying. He sets the little boy on the ground, stabilising him by the shoulders when he stumbles slightly. He surges ahead of Sirius, head held high.

Sirius doesn’t bother trying to match his pace, instead deciding to follow at the speed his aching body will allow, though still making sure the little boy stays in his immediate eyeline. Besides, he’s young enough that his legs will get tired soon enough and he’ll be back to clinging at Sirius’ jeans while they walk.

The woodland air has cooled considerably since they started walking, sending a tremor down Sirius’ spine. He shudders and goes to shove his hands in his pockets. As he moves his right hand down, however, it catches at the pouch that is secured to his waist. 

The floaty feeling that Sirius was unaware he had even been experiencing abruptly halts. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he cups the pouch, a desperate kind of confusion overcoming his senses.  

Why… why does he have this? 

Something echoes in the darkest corners of his mind. Flashes of a fight and a Diary and bookcase and a pale, still face and, oh Merlin, a-

“Sirius! Can you hear that?”

Sirius is tugged back down into his own body, breath stuttering. He thinks his hands may be shaking, “Hear what, little one?”

The little boy is stood a few metres ahead of Sirius; torso turned to him, face worried and insistent. He points vaguely into the distance, “That crying! I think there’s a baby somewhere!”

“What?” Sirius exclaims, surging forward. A baby? They’re in the middle of nowhere, who would leave a baby stranded like this?

“Hurry, Sirius, I can hear it!” The little boy cries, “We have to find it!”

Upon reaching the little boy, Sirius scoops him up into his arms and tears through the trees. They can’t afford to travel at the pace of a five-year-old anymore.

Sirius can hear the baby, too, now. Its cries echo through the trees, bouncing off each branch. His heart is in his throat as he scrambles through the foliage, trying to locate the persistent cries of the lost infant. The little boy clutches tightly around his neck.

“Sirius, we have to hurry.” He urges, hands gripping tightly, “If we don’t help him, something bad will happen!”

“Don’t worry, little lion, I won’t let anything happen.” Sirius tries, absently. 

A frustrated groan escapes the body in his arms, “No, you don’t understand! She’ll get to him if we don’t. She doesn’t like when he cries.”

“There’s no she, my darling, there’s no one out here. No one but us.”

Sirius’ words of comfort are continuously ignored as the little boy grows more distressed. Fat tears are beginning to roll down his round cheeks as he tells Sirius about the baby and how she will hurt it if they don’t get there first.

“I’m trying, okay? It’s- it’s hard in this forest, I can’t figure out where the cries are coming from.” Sirius tries to reason with the boy in his arms. His efforts are deemed useless as the little boy's urgency and worry grows and grows until he’s wailing and crying right into Sirius’ ear. It soon becomes hard to distinguish which cries are from the little boy and which cries are from the baby boy in the distance. The baby boy all alone and waiting for the touch of a mother and wondering why the only person who will come for him is his infant brother who is barely old enough himself to-

All at once, the crying stops completely. 

Sirius has reached a clearing.

In the centre is a lone figure with his back to the pair who have just arrived. He’s angled so that Sirius can just make out a tiny baby in his arms. Its desperate cries have ceased, though tears are still drying on its tiny, infantile face. 

The little boy tugs at Sirius’ collar, whispering, “Sirius, who is that? He looks scary.”

Sirius finds that he can’t answer. Because he knows. He knows whose face he will have to look upon when the figure eventually turns around. He knows whose fate he will be forced to reckon with.

The baby gurgles in the figure's arms, jerking its little limbs around. Even at such a young age, a mop of black hair is growing atop its head. Its eyes are pale grey, Sirius can see from even this distance. The little boy squirms in Sirius’ arms, “Sirius, you have to do something! That’s our baby! Excuse me? Why do you have our baby?”

The figure stiffens, “Your baby?”

The little boy nods resolutely, head held high, “Yes, that’s our baby! You have to give him back.”

Finally, the figure turns. Sirius’ breath does not get stuck in his throat because he already knew. He already knew that he would be greeted with a pale face and dark hair and grey eyes just paler than his own and a mole on the left cheekbone. Water is dripping down his face, soaking his entire body. He’s covered in weeping, ragged scratches. 

He is Regulus Arcturus Black.

He smiles wanly at the little boy, “I can’t give you this baby. If I give you this baby, it will get hurt.”

The little boy shakes his head, “No, no, because Sirius will keep it safe just like he’s kept me safe!”

Regulus Arcturus Black tuts and shakes his head. He even laughs a little bit, “Oh, no, little one. Sirius is the most dangerous thing in this entire wood. He can’t keep anything safe!”

“Is that true?” The little boy whispers, turning to ask Sirius. The worst part of it all is that there’s not a trace of anger or accusation on his young face. All there is is confusion. Betrayal, maybe. Still, his face is open and trusting, as though he’s waiting for an honest, reasonable explanation from Sirius.

Sirius can only stare back. 

He’s not sure what to tell the little boy. He can’t lie and dispute Regulus Arcturus Black’s claim. He also can’t bear to tell the awful truth. The awful truth that Sirius Black has never been able to keep a single thing safe in his entire rotten life. He’s tried, certainly. Maybe all he’s ever done is try to keep it all safe, to keep it all protected from the darkness and ugliness in the world. The problem is that Sirius Black is just as dark and ugly as the rest of it. In fact, Sirius Black might be a black hole, suctioning everything he cares about into his dreadful, festering gravity and crushing them all under the mortal pressure that is himself.  

Who is a monster to protect what he loves from evil?

“Yes, he’s telling the truth.” Sirius admits, so quietly that he can’t be sure he didn’t say it in his head. The only reassurance that he didn’t is the widening of the little boy's eyes. 

“Really?” The little boy whispers back, voice just as small.

Sirius can only nod. 

Regulus Arcturus Black cradles the baby gently, eyes intently watching the duo at the edge of the clearing. Water drips down his clothes and onto the fallen leaves at his feet. The water has no source and has no end. His clothes are ripped. He smiles again, “Let me take the boy, Sirius.”

“What?”

“Give him to me. You know you’re no good for him.”

Sirius wants to argue, he does. Moreso, when the little boy grips tighter to his clothes and begins to protest profusely, “No, no, Sirius, I don’t want to go with him! He’s scary and he looks mean!”

Regulus Arcturus Black does not smile at that. In fact, his face drops, “Maybe so. But it beats the alternative, you know it.”

The alternative being Sirius. Of course. 

The little boy continues to shake his head, “No, no, it doesn’t. I don’t like him, Sirius, I want to stay with you!”

“I don’t think you can, little one.” Sirius whispers, eyes burning suspiciously. He feels numb as he lowers the little boy to the ground. 

“No, no, don’t make me go with him! I’ll be good, please, just let me stay with you!”

Sirius crouches to look the little boy in the eye, holding him gently by the shoulders, “You’ll be safer if you go with him, little lion.”

The little boy stares right back at him with pale and watery eyes, “Do you promise to come and find us when you’re done?”

“Yes.” Sirius lies, “I promise.”

The little boy stares back at Sirius for a long moment, mouth turning down in the left corner. His eyes are far too knowing for someone so young. He knows that Sirius is not telling the truth.

Regulus Arcturus Black calls for the little boy, dripping hand outstretched. Sirius wonders if he’s cold. 

The little boy finally looks away from Sirius and stumbles to the figure in the centre of the clearing. His back is straight and his head is held high. Upon reaching Regulus Arcturus Black, the little one hesitantly grabs onto his soaked-through trouser leg, just as he had previously done to Sirius. He buries his face into the fabric.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sirius garbles, hands hanging helplessly at his side.

Regulus Arcturus Black tears his gaze from the little baby in his arms to Sirius. His pale, torn-up face moulds into something sympathetic, “Go home, Sirius.”

“I don’t think I can, Reggie. Not without you.” 

“You’ve done it before. This time’s no different.” He turns back to the baby, face grim, “You’ve got people that need you, that are waiting for you.”

“I can’t-”

“You can. You must. You must keep pushing through.”

-

When Sirius Black makes it out of the woods, the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. 

He’s unsure of how many days he’s been walking, lost. He knows that his mouth is dry and his head is swimming and his ears are ringing. 

As he stumbles out onto a deserted road, Sirius considers. He thinks that he left the Malfoy Manor when it was still daytime. He knows that the sun was setting when he said goodbye to his companions in the woods. 

He doesn’t remember it being night.

Sirius Black stumbles down this concrete road until the sun is high in the sky, above his head. If he keeps going, he is sure to reach some kind of civilization soon enough.

Or he may just collapse and die before he finds anything.

The sun is beginning to dip down below the tree-line by the time Sirius finds a bus stop. 

It’s completely ridden with wood rot and overrun with ivy. It's also completely deserted bar a tiny woman of about 60, who sits hunched over against the cold. In her hands is a bundle of dark wool and knitting needles. 

Sirius sits heavily down on the seat beside her, ignoring the way she startles at his sudden appearance. His legs are overrun with pins-and-needles now that he is finally letting them rest, and his hands begin to tremble.

Maybe they’ve always been trembling. 

“Where are you headed, dear?”

Sirius startles, turning to the woman. He’s aware of how he must look; eyes wide and crazed, blooded crusted down the side of his face, “W-what?”

She smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners, “Which stop are you getting off at, dear?”

“Oh, um. I- I don’t know.” He stutters, “The furthest one, I suppose.”

The woman accepts this as an answer, turning back to her knitting. After a short moment, however, she trunks back to him, “Are you alright, dear? You- you don’t look very well.”

Sirius is aware that she’s being rather generous with this analysis but can’t find it in himself to make a joke. Her face is warm and open, wrinkled and moulded by a lifetime of kindness and laughter; so very much like Euphemia Potter. 

“No, I’m… I’m alright, it’s just that…” Sirius lets out a deep sigh, resting his head against the back of the bus stop bench, “Well, I- I lost my little brother.”

The woman lets out a horribly sympathetic gasp, hand flying to her mouth, “Oh, my love… there must be nothing worse than losing a sibling.”

Sirius lets out a laugh that may in fact be a sob, if the tear that escapes his eye is anything to go by, “Yes, I don’t think I’ve… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in my whole life…”

A hand gently rests on his trembling forearm, “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“No, it’s okay.” Another bitter laugh, “I’m surprised he lived as long as he did, to be honest. I’ve never been very good at keeping him safe.”

The woman doesn’t say anything for a long while. She just stays quietly at his side, rubbing a gloved hand up and down his forearm, “Is there someone I can call for you, pet? Someone who can come and pick you up?”

“No, there’s not. But thank you.”

She nods in acceptance. The setting sun splashes hues of orange and pink across the vast expanse of sky above them. The stars are not yet out, though Sirius can see the faint outline of the moon if he cranes his neck.

When Sirius folds over on himself in tears, the woman does not flinch. She places a hand on his shoulder and mutters soothing reassurances. Sirius can’t help but be reminded of Euphemia Potter on the night he showed up at the Potter house, bleeding and in hysterics. 

No bus comes until well after the sun has sunk below the tree-line. When Sirius boards the bus, arm linked with the woman, the stars are twinkling brightly from the darkness.

Sirius cannot bring himself to look up.