All things Considered
It turned into something bigger
Somewhere in the haze, got the sense I'd been betrayed
Your finger on my hair pin triggers
Soldier down on that icy ground
Looked up at me with honor and truth
Broken and blue, so I called off the toops
(...)
There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair
And we will never go back
Prongs
James had wanted to leave Sirius his space after he had decided to head back to his apartment. That didn’t mean he had expected him to handle it well. James loved Sirius like a brother, he was part of the family and had been his best friend since the Hogwarts Express, even before their first year. The man could do no wrong in his eyes (metaphorically speaking, since he could do plenty wrong actually). But still he had to admit Sirius wasn’t really one to handle his problems in a mature way. And the problem he was handling was terrible. In short, James had expected to be summoned to his apartment in less than a day.
He was surprised when it didn’t happen, nor did it for a week after that.
James had been worried sick, obsessing over what he was doing, how he was doing, if he had managed or was screaming himself to sleep every night. He himself had been doing decent, beside the random waking up at ungodly hours of the night to check if his parents were still okay. He also sometimes woke up and thought Sirius or Remus had died. He had nightmares about it all the time, mixed with flashbacks of the war where the faces of dead strangers were replaced by loved ones: Lily lying under debris, Mary falling from a building, Remus slashed by another werewolf, Sirius enveloped by a flash of green light. But it wasn’t real, and they all made it out. Lily and Mary were trying to heal their scrapes on the sandy beaches of some tropical island, as they wrote in their last letter, lounging in the sun and sipping on fruity cocktails to forget the trauma of the war; Remus was somewhere alive; and Sirius had just been there.
They made it out, except some didn’t. Frank and Alice, Marlene and Dorcas, the Prewetts. Many faces he had crossed in Hogwarts’ hallways didn’t walk the earth anymore, daughters and sons to families that were now left with an empty spot. The ones who hadn’t died, had lost someone or were badly injured. Moody had lost an eye and in the last update he gave them about Remus, he was badly wounded as well and would probably have to use a cane for the rest of his life. Some betrayed them and were paying for it, but James wasn’t sure he was ready to process that kind of lump yet.
And of course, Regulus. The little brother Sirius never got back, wrapped in the tight claws of their parents.
James didn’t know much about the younger Black, but he was certain that he would have come back to Sirius, had he just had time. He saw it the only time they had bumped into each other in Hogwarts. And James was good a reading people, but he was even better at reading the Blacks. He had seen the same thing that had been hiding behind Sirius’ though façade in first year. So no, James didn’t know Regulus, but he mourned him because he knew Sirius.
His parents had been amazing, as they always were. His mum coddled him a lot more and his father insisted on spending time together, the three of them: they cooked together and had muggle film nights; they went out for lunch as a family; Fleamont even went as far as inviting him in his potion lab (not that James was strong enough in the subject to be of any help, but he was grateful they were still alive). So, eventually, James decided to let Sirius be and just let him come back at his own terms, almost as if he was a wild animal. And rest assured, soon enough his owl was knocking at his window, inviting him to shop for groceries and make some lunch at his place.
They walked through the aisles slowly as Sirius made sure they had everything they needed, and James was stuck to push the cart. He looked good, Sirius. Didn’t seem like he slept too well, but overall, he expected worse. “So, have you thought about what you’re going to do now?”
“Don’t know. I won’t decide anything until Moony’s back anyway.” He was examining a can of beans like it was the most important decision of the day, and maybe it was. They were allowed to make of mundane things a big deal, now. “You still got those quidditch offers, right? It was your original plan, after all.”
“Did you clean his room?” James decided to ask.
“I’m not his maid. He can clean his shit when he comes back. It’s probably tidy anyway.” They moved on to the next isle. James wasn’t really paying attention to the groceries anymore.
“But… are you doing alright on your own?” It was a known fact that Sirius was a people person. He thrived in company and moped when was left alone, so forgive James for being suspicious.
“Swimmingly, actually.” He said with a smile as he dumped five boxes of coconut biscuits in the cart.
“What do we need those for?”
“Oh, they’re for me, actually. I like them.” He was going to eat five boxes of them. Something was off and it became apparent after the second box of peanut butter sweets he dumped in the cart. Sirius despised peanut butter and Remus preferred chocolate by a landslide. That was extremely strange. James decided to not point it out in the middle of the store just to avoid Sirius getting heated on their first casual outing after the war: the air still felt heavy, almost like Sirius would snap at any given moment had James said the wrong thing. He kept his mouth shut and indulged in some small talk that Sirius initiated, studying every little detail of his friend in the hopes of understanding if something was wrong.
It all seemed perfectly normal until he stepped through his apartment door and came face to face with a pitch-black cat sitting on Sirius’ sofa as if it was his place. “What is that?”
“My cat.”
“You have a cat.”
“As you can clearly see.”
“A black cat.”
“It seems, yeah.”
“The cat is yours.”
“I think we have established at this point that I have a cat. I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one.” Sirius disappeared in the kitchen, swiftly followed by the black cat, as James was left at the door still processing the fact that Sirius apparently now had a cat and hadn’t happened to mention this major thing to his best friend and chosen brother.
“But you’re a dog person! Literally!”
“Look, I didn’t look for a cat. He came here and won’t leave and is a stray.” Sirius was behaving like he hadn’t feared cats his entire life (with the exception of Minnie, of course, but that didn’t relly count, did it?). He opened one pack of the coconut biscuits, placed three in a plate, and put it on the table. The cat swiftly jumped on top of it and started munching them.
“I don’t think cats are supposed to eat those.”
“They are not, but the stupid moron won’t leave me alone otherwise. And he eats other stuff as well, like beef wellington and apparently potato salad.”
“You are out of your mind.”
“Well, it’s his fault so complain to him if you want to.” James looked at the cat still eating. Maybe it was good that Sirius wasn’t actually alone through it, but he wasn’t too sure a cat would have been the best company for him. He was thinking more of a psychological kind of confident, maybe one with a degree. He stretched a finger towards the cat but as soon he touched him, he hissed and flung a paw his way, scratching his hand and then bolting to hide away. “At least he doesn’t like you as well. I was starting to think I was the problem.”
“He’s a boy?”
“Well, he has balls so… yeah, I guess.” Somewhere in the living room the cat meowed, seemingly offended. “I named him Archie.”
“It’s a… good name?”
“I think it’s quite ugly, but he didn’t like the other ones.” Maybe Sirius wasn’t so sound after all. “Get the plates, I’m almost ready. And don’t set them on the table or he’ll think they’re for him.” Alright, so the cat – Archie – was Sirius’ owner, apparently, and not the other way around. The coconut biscuits still laid uneaten in the plate. They ate lunch on the sofa as Archie observed them from the height of the kitchen table. James suspected Remus wouldn’t take well the new roommate he had involuntarily acquired. They talked about other stuff even though James couldn’t really think about anything else besides the cat.
“So, you have a cat.”
“James.”
“Alright, alright.” He said, lifting his hands. “He seems nice.”
“He’s really not. I told you he’s a moron. I even got him a green collar because had he been at Hogwarts, he would have been a Slytherin without a doubt, but the little monster won’t let me put it on him.” Sirius dangles the small collar in front of his face.
“You’re out of your mind. You’ve officially lost it.”
“I think so as well. It must be him.” James doubted it was the cat’s fault. Archie had apparently decided it was a good time to join them in the living room and jumped just then on the coffee table. James tried to touch him again, just leaving his hand for him to examine that time. The cat seemed unsure at first, but after sniffing his hand for a while he rubbed his chin on top of hit. His fur was extremely soft and after James dared to scratch his head, he started to purr so loud Sirius scoffed. “Of course, he likes you better, that ungrateful brat. So much for feeding him —”
“Poorly.”
“—and giving him my house. I just get bites and claws in my ass cheek in the morning.”
“The more you talk, the more I like this cat.”
“Choke.” James laughed and grabbed the green collar that was left of the corner of the table. Archie didn’t even flinch as he wrapped it around his throat and after he buckled it, proceeded to jump on his lap. “It seems like my cat has a crush on you, now.” James laughed and the cat hissed at Sirius.
“Do you think… you’re ready to talk?” Sirius sighed and tucked his feet under himself, like he used to do whenever he confessed something he had done, back when they were in school. “I just think it would help you to… grieve him.”
“I don’t know if I want to.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m ready to let him go yet.”
“You don’t have to let him go, but you should let go of the guilt.” Because that was the problem in the way they got separated: that Sirius thought it was his fault when it really wasn’t. Nor it was Regulus’ for saying no. It was their family; it was them who forced their separation without even considering the damage that was done. Because Sirius leaving was a crack, but the glass had been shattering since long before that. And James had been there long enough to know that Sirius tended to take the blame for everything, both knowingly and just as a habit.
James grabbed Sirius’ hand and brought it in front of the cat’s nose, letting it sniff for a while. Eventually, still with weary blue eyes, Archie stroked his chin on the back of Sirius’ hand. “Oh.”
“See. He doesn’t hate you. You need to stop hating yourself in the name of others.”
James got home later than he expected, and his mum was already cooking dinner. The air was full of the smell of herbs and roast and carrot cake. He shrugged his jacket and shouted his greetings into the house before entering the kitchen. His parents got spooked if he walked around too quietly, courtesy of the war, so he had taken to announcing himself every time he entered a room and sometimes sporadically during the day.
“Hey Jamie, how’s Sirius?” She smiled and he knew that she had worried about Sirius as well. He quickly kissed her cheek. Euphemia always looked the same, even after all they had been through: the same crinkly eyes and wide smile, the same wispy hair and flowery perfume. It was comforting, grounding almost.
“He’s doing as good as he can manage. Better than I thought but it’s still Sirius we’re talking about.” She nodded stirring the sauce in the pan absentmindedly.
“What’s that on your hand?” James had forgotten the small scratch on the back of his hand, but there it was: red and fine, neat as only a cat can be.
“Well, Sirius has a cat now.”
“He hates cats, and they always scratch Remus.”
“That’s what I thought. But he isn’t alone in the house, at least.” Just then footsteps started descending the stairs and James frowned: it seemed like they had a guest over, one that had a quite heavy limp. When he turned around, his dad was on the doorway with an arm wrapped around none other than Alastor Moody. His magical eye glimmered in the light of the sunset sneaking in through the blinds.
“James Potter. Pleased to see you are doing well.” The first thought that came across his mind was that something had happened to Remus. Without him even realising, his breath had already quickened and his mind was running wild: he had just left Sirius and he was doing so good and what if he-
“Is he…”
“He’s well. On his route home in a couple of weeks or so, I’d say. I was just here to discuss some matters of the Ministry with Fleamont.” James tried to not make is sigh of relief too obvious, but he was clearly unsuccessful, if the look of his father was anything to go by. “I’m glad to see you all settling back into normal life. I feel like we all deserve it.” Almost all of us. James bit his tongue and smiled tightly.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us for dinner, Alastor? I’ve made enough food to feed the entirety of the Order. It must be the habit.” It wasn’t really that many people into the Order, James would argue, but the sense stayed the same. The Manor had been a focal point for all of them during the war and there was always extra food on the stove.
“I won’t cause you any more trouble. I was thinking of visiting mister Black and inform him of the good news in person.”
“I’ll tell him.” James blurted out immediately. Sirius hadn’t really developed a good opinion about Moody and Dumbledore since Remus had been assigned on the mission he was still in the process of returning from. It wasn’t the right time for Moody to show up unannounced at his door, especially after their conversations. “He has a new cat and is quite occupied.”
“A cat, you say.”
“Yeah.” Moody’s eyes were fixed on him for a while but then he smiled and patted his hand on Fleamont’s shoulder.
“Very well, then. I suppose I’ll call it an early night, for once. Have a good dinner and evening.” Then his dad helped him to the door, the heavy thuds of his cane filling the air like the punctual chime of a clock. Only after the door was shut and he had heard the sound of Moody’s apparition outside James let himself relax.
For Godric’s sake, he couldn’t wait for Remus to be back. James missed having him around. The fact that he was the only one that could say whatever was on his mind and Sirius would believe it until the day he died, was an added bonus. James and Sirius were brothers, but him and Moony were… Padfoot and Moony. Hadn’t he known all the things he did, he would have pinned it on their canine attitudes. But the truth was that they had been like that since the beginning. They butted heads and almost never understood each other; they were both too stubborn and way too volatile not to erupt in fighting at least once every time they were together. But also, Remus could read Sirius in a way James never could. Because they were also one in the same: they were proud in the same way and could immediately understand what set the other off, liked the same music and most importantly shared so much family related trauma James could never understand, thankfully.
James missed the three of them together. In complete honesty, he missed the Marauders, just the four of them as they had last been in Hogwarts’ bounds. And when he was alone in his room as Sirius was left having an existential crisis, it was harder to forget about Peter.
He felt guilty for missing him. It was different for James: he and Peter had grown up together, scurried off from the same parties and were invited to the same Sunday roasts; Euphemia was the one who had gifted Peter the Jumper he was wearing on his first day on the Hogwarts Express and Mrs Pettigrew baked the cake for James’ ninth birthday. James didn’t want to believe it at first, that Peter would have sold all of them out just for… what? He wasn’t even sure. Was it true what he had screamed for him? That he had done it just to stay alive? Was it power? James didn’t know if either option would have hurt less. The face he had grown up next to, was the one behind at least some of the deaths they had been forced to suffer.
For Sirius was different. He had bigger and scarier things waiting for him under sleep’s curtains, all things considered. He was too preoccupied with those to really process the way in which they all had been stabbed. James knew what Sirius would have said if only he had the guts to open up about what he was thinking: he had heard it already, everybody had. Sirius wasn’t one to old his tongue and he hadn’t been afraid to shout whatever he was feeling in the middle of the Order meeting, the day he was brought away. “Slimy little git” he had screamed, “excuse of a wizard”, “you should hope you rot in one of those cells because if they ever let you see the light of day”, “the dementors’ kiss would be a blessing”. Sirius was fire, lapping at his every emotion with the passion of the sun: of course he was satisfied; the traitor had been caught and would get what he deserved. But James was left with a gash that just wouldn’t stop bleeding, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself Peter deserved it. He did, but still.
He wondered how Remus felt about it. He wasn’t even sure they had told him.
So yeah, he was holding up quite well, all things considered.