Hope
Chapter 3: Hope
Sirius
Sirius paces around the area after walking out of James’ and Lily’s house. He’s not ready to apparate back to London.
Leaving Godric's Hollow means he has to go back to that empty flat. It makes the hair on his arms stand up. The thought of walking into that small foyer, and looking through the door to see a dark, dusty, lifeless living room makes him want to weep. No, more like scream. Or break something; something being the apartment.
He wants to break it apart into pieces so small it's unrecognisable. All so he can put it back together. Piece by piece. Maybe then he could build it back to what it used to be. A home. Sirius’ home.
Sirius has grown to hate that flat. He hates living in it; waking up in it. It’s like living in a cemetery. It makes Sirius so angry, so furious that lately Sirius’ magic has been slipping from his hands. Just like when he was a boy, when he gets too angry something breaks, shatters, cracks.
He hates it; it reminds him of Grimmauld Place. Of the countless times he broke his toys on accident from the bubbling anger inside of him after a lashing from his dear old mother. Sirius hates that it reminds him of his childhood home. He hates that that’s what his life has come to.
Most of all he hates that it’s another reminder of how beautiful, truly beautiful his life was before it was ripped away from him. As much as Sirius hates it, really fucking hates it, he can’t seem to let it go. It used to be one of his favourite places in the world. It was a home Sirius had built for himself. It was where he and Remus had some of their best moments. It was where Remus had–
No.
Sirius doesn’t go down that road. He doesn’t think of how much he loves Remus; of how much he misses his Moony.
Stop it, you idiot.
But it’s too late. The first tear falls out of his eyes, pulling the rest down Sirius’ cheeks along with it. He grabs onto his chest, trying to somehow fill it with air. There’s not enough of it. He’s choking. Without really realising it, Sirius sits down on the edge of the pavement.
He’s gasping for air. (Remus walking into their flat with two armfuls of bags filled with food. He looks so right, like that’s where he was meant to be all along)
He’s pinching himself, trying to wake up. (Remus is smiling softly at Sirius, standing at the open window with a cig lit in his slender hand.)
His face is wet. The wind is blowing on it, making it cold, but Sirius can’t feel it. (Remus is asleep beside Sirius. He looks so fucking beautiful Sirius’ heart shatters.)
Sirius is trying to ground himself somehow, but the memories he tries so desperately to forget are falling on top of him with such strength that he can’t make out a way to escape.
He starts to hear the ringing. A twingey sound that goes off in his head, almost like a warning, that something is about to snap. Sirius knows this means that his magic is about to burst.
Somewhere far away, he thinks to himself that he needs to stop. He needs to strangle that ringing and stop it before something happens in front of a muggle. But that part of Sirius is too far away, and his screams are drowned out by the constant ringing.
The ringing gets louder and louder. Sirius tugs his black curls, as if he could pull out the sound like a strand of hair. It isn’t until a small ball hits his feet which are bare–
Why doesn’t he have any shoes on?
The ringing calms as Sirius picks up the ball, feeling it in his hands. It's brown; it's made of leather. The surface is scratched and rough as Sirius turns it around in his hands. It almost looks like a bludger. Only it isn’t trying to rip itself out of his hands.
“Umm, ‘scuse me. Can I get my football back?” A small voice asks.
Sirius looks up to find a boy, maybe eight years old, looking down at him curiously. The boy's head is covered in thick, black curls that don’t reach past his ears. His face is gentle, none of his features stand out particularly, but Sirius can tell he’s going to be a looker when he grows up. In the back of his mind, he hears himself think that the boy reminds him of Regulus. He shuts it out. That’s another box Sirius is not keen on opening.
Sirius doesn’t even know how long this odd boy has been standing there. He didn’t even notice him on the street. Naively, Sirius hopes that the boy didn’t witness him having a panic attack on the street, barefoot.
He glances around, expecting and hoping to find a group of children. He doesn’t. Apparently the boy is out here alone. Sirius passes the ball back without a word. He’s staring down at the cemented road when the boy asks:
“What’re you doing without any shoes on? Aren’t ya cold?” He questions. Sirius looks back up at the boy, feeling his cheeks turn pink. Which is ridiculous of course. It’s ridiculous that Sirius Black is blushing from embarrassment because some strange, muggle boy found him sitting in the street without shoes, mid breakdown. Sirius has found himself in far more incriminating situations before. And the boy will never see him again, and probably forget about the whole ordeal by tomorrow morning. So Sirius doesn’t understand the heat he feels in his cheeks. Though he supposes it’s been a hell of a day. Sirius expected the boy to be making fun of him by now. Merlin knows he would have been making fun of himself by now, if the roles were reversed. He’s wrong; there’s no trail of amusement on the boy's face. Only interest and a slight hint of confusion.
“I think I left them at my brother's house.” Sirius replies.
“Why don’t you go get ‘em back?” The boy asks again. Merlin, he’s nosy.
“I can’t. He’s pissed at me.” Sirius explains, slightly regretting it. He doesn’t know why he said that.
“My brothers always pissed at me.” The boy says, almost sadly. Sirius bursts out laughing without meaning to. He knows what that’s like all too well. The boy looks at Sirius as if he offended him. An apology sits at the edge of Sirius’ tongue. Instead, he finds himself asking:
“And why are you out alone on halloween? Aren’t you supposed to be dressed up as a vampire or something, walking around causing havoc with your friends?”
This time it’s the boys' cheeks that turn pink. “I don’t really have any friends,” He says with the same sad voice as before. Abruptly, he straightens himself up and declares, “Besides, it’s early ain’t it? It’s not even that dark yet. There’s no fun in trick or treatin’ when it’s light outside, is there?” He crosses his small arms, having made his point.
Sirius doesn’t know what the boy meant by trick or treating, so he just shrugs and says blandly, “I suppose there isn’t.”
The boy's mouth opens, no doubt to ask another question, but then a female voice fills the street.
“Reece, love. Come back in for dinner, will you please?”
Reece turns around, shouting an ‘okay, mum’ over his shoulder before turning back to Sirius. He smiles down at him.
“You’re a very weird man, do you know that? Sitting on the street with no shoes.” Reece giggles, which takes Sirius by surprise. “Well, I hope your brother gives you back your shoes. See ya!” Reece shouts, already running towards his house.
Sirius watches the boy disappear into his house before whispering an, “Accio shoes.”
They land softly at his feet and Sirius starts hurriedly shoving them on. He feels that rage that he’s felt for so long flow back in.
He’s angry because James won’t let Sirius help him. Just like Regulus wouldn't let himself be helped. Sirius is so sick and tired of seeing people he loves suffer. He wants to help. He wants Harry to be able to play on the street like Reece. Perhaps, if Reece and Harry were the same age, then they would be friends. Then Reece wouldn’t sound so sad, playing by himself.
Sirius shakes his head roughly. Why is he upset about some boy he doesn’t even know?
Is it because he reminded him of Regulus?
Regulus doesn’t mean anything to him. He doesn’t. Sirius doesn’t care. He repeats it in his head, as he ties up his shoelace. He’s chanting it like a spell in his mind, attempting to make it true.
Sirius sees, from the corner of his eye, a person sit down next to him. He rolls his eyes.
He barks out. “Come to ask me more questions, did you? Weren’t you supposed to go back inside?”
“I– I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pads. Lily stayed behind, so the house–” A voice Sirius knows all too well starts talking; at a very high speed.
Sirius lifts his eyes up from his shoelaces. It’s James. Hope lights up in him. James is here.
He just threw you out of his house, is what Sirius’ next thought is. Right. The sight of James’ face had made him forget their conversation not half an hour ago.
Sirius’ initial reaction is to put up his wall. Just like he always does when he’s rejected. He’s done it since childhood. He doesn’t mean to, it’s more of an instinct than anything else. Whenever someone used to say no, ignore him or make him feel invisible Sirius would put up his wall. His armour. Feigning indifference and rejecting a person who hurt him is his forte.
If Sirius is being honest, he finds it a bit annoying, actually. The fact that the smallest of things can make his mind turn on a person. That even when his heart is begging, with every pump, to move on and forgive, he can’t. Sirius can’t and won’t forgive until his own company is too much to bear. Then he gives in. He knows it’s fucked, and he’s better at managing it than he used to be.
But right now, he feels like a little kid again.
Sirius is standing in one of the corridors at Hogwarts. It’s his first day back at school since he ran away. James is leaning on the brick wall beside him, probably already sharing details of a prank, but all Sirius can focus on is Regulus. Sirius stares at his little brother who looks like he couldn’t care less that Sirius is alive. Sirius is begging his little brother to show the slightest bit of emotion; that he cares. Afterall, Sirius never left a note. He was in no state to. The blood loss and violence from that night makes him wonder how he made it to the Potters alive.
And, yet here is his brother giving no reaction. In that moment, something odd happens: an invisible wall that Sirius can’t see or touch slides up around him. It’s hard and cold. It speaks to him. It tells Sirius never to let his brother, or his family hurt him again. Sirius listens. He stops caring.
Sirius remembers that that was the first time he felt an indifference towards his brother take over him. For the first time in his life, he didn’t care. The feeling came and went, as it still does. Sirius finds it exhausting, but again, he can’t help it. And though he knows he shouldn’t be cold with James now; he can’t help it.
Sirius loves James so much that not being given permission to help him makes Sirius break.
“I thought you were someone else. What are you doing here anyway? Didn’t you just tell me to fuck off?” Sirius indifferently, his heart pinching at the tone of his own voice.
James flinches slightly at Sirius’ tone. Sirius knows he struck a nerve, because James fixes his glasses even though they were perfectly even. It’s always been James’ tell; that he was hurt, angry, nervous, flattered.
Sirius sort of forgot how easily he can read James, how easy it is for him to recognise James’ pain, it’s unsettling. He wants to take it back immediately. Sirius hates it when he’s cold and indifferent, especially towards James.
Padfoot and Prongs have always been a burst of emotions. It’s never been easy for either one of them to keep it contained. They can’t help laying their soul out on display for everyone to see. It must have been one of the things that drew Sirius to James, his openness. After growing up in a house that let no light out or in James Potter’s light was comparable to the creation of a star. Since like calls to like, Sirius was pulled in. When they were together, even when they were angry with each other and breaths away from strangling each other, the light remained.
Now? Where has the light gone? When did it dim? If Sirius looked in a mirror now, would he see his own reflection or Regulus’?
“That’s not what I said,” James says, sounding defensive which irks Sirius. He’s not the one who kicked out his best friend after not seeing him for weeks upon weeks.
“Well you might as well have said that,” Sirius throws back. He knows he’s being stupid, but he can’t seem to calm down.
“Sirius, it’s not as simple as that. You must know that–”
“It doesn’t matter. Go back home,” Sirius can feel his heart lurch at his own words. James leaving him out here is the last thing he wants. He wants him to stay. He wishes he could just behave normally; he can’t afford to be an arse to James. They don’t have that sort of time. Sirius knows that.
They’ve done it wrong again. James came out here, giving Sirius a second chance, and he’s fucked it again.
Sirius drops his face into his hands. This time he can feel the sting of tears trying to escape his eyes. He musters all the strength he has left not to cry. James sits silently beside Sirius, giving him time to gather himself. It takes him some time, but after a while he feels stable enough to speak again. Instead of being angry, he finds himself feeling guilty.
Sirius picks up his head and looks to James. James is already looking at him. His eyes are softer than they were before. His next words surprise Sirius.
“Pads, I’m so sorry.” James says, so softly the wind barely carries it to Sirius.
“James.”
“No–”
“James, I understand. You have Lily. You have Harry. It was selfish of me to come here and tell you any of this when it could all be a lie. You’re right.” Sirius says, because as much as James’ rejection hurts, he does understand. Well, he’s trying to.
Sirius knows he was sulking only a few minutes ago, but he truly does understand. Even if it hurts.
“Sirius,” James says sternly. It makes Sirius look at him; like a puppet on strings. “Can you let me say what I came here to say?”
“Yea,” Sirius mumbles, nodding softly.
“We want to do it, Lily and I.” James declares, his face so serious it ages him a decade. Sirius wants to say something, but quite honestly he doesn’t have a clue what to say. “I know that– I know what I said. But,” James pauses again, thinking for a moment before continuing. “Lily made me understand that even if it is all bollocks, it’s better than doing nothing. Dumbledore's plan isn’t getting us anywhere, and although yours doesn’t sound much safer, I think it’s worth more.”
“I wouldn’t have told you about any of this if I didn’t think it was worth something. It’s worth at least looking into. I just–” Sirius stops himself, because this is the part he keeps avoiding. The reason he didn’t push James harder in that livingroom.
“You just what?”
“I don’t want to do it alone. I’m so sorry, Prongs. It’s so selfish of me, I know. You have so much to lose and I’m asking for you to throw it all away, but I just really don’t want to do it alone. I’ve been trying to do it alone, but I don’t think I can do it anymore,” Sirius spits out of himself, saying all of it in one breath.
James hugs him, and instantly Sirius feels a sense of relief so strong he can’t help the tears that rush down his cheeks. He hears James whispering ‘it’s okay’ over and over as Sirius pours it out.
For the first time in weeks, Sirius cries without the awful sound of ringing deafening him.