Sirius wakes up in pitch black darkness. He adjusts his pillow, carefully so as not to wake Remus up and finds that it is humid. He reaches for the wand so that he can conjure up a dim light to move around in, but finds a glass of water in its stead. Remus, the angel that he is must-ve put it there last night. He sips it quietly and then turns to embrace Remus, wanting to feel his warmth pulse through him and shake away the cold. His heart flinches at the empty space the greets him, no sign of Remus having ever slept there at all. His mind is buzzing about trying to remember if something happened last night, perhaps he woke up early and went to visit Lily and…
Everything rushes back in.
The call, the shock, the pain.
Instantly he wants to go back to sleep and drift off into a world where…
He sobs into the black hole his room has become, thankful for the blindness it offers.
The curtains have been drawn for three days straight. The cushion has been soaked for just as long but that’s much less of a choice. Sirius has been living in a state of limbo since halloween, somewhere between self-combustion and stasis, half the time he doesn’t know why he does things and the other half he doesn’t know how he does anything at all.
Every few hours it’s the same, he has to keep finding out, reliving that moment over and over and over again. He falls asleep from sheer exhaustion, hoping to wake up from this nightmare or not wake up at all. His prayers go unanswered for he wakes up in the nightmare again. He has to keep waking up knowing who doesn’t get to anymore.
The sun will always rise again. It is said time and time again as if fact, and Sirius had believed it. He should’ve known that you can never know that something is, only that it isn’t. There are no universal truths, only theories, some more likely than others. Still, if you had asked him three days ago he would’ve told you with conviction that the sun can set, but it will always rise again.
Until it didn’t
The second wave washes over him as he realises not for the first time, that it never will again. The sun has set and taken everything with him. Every smile and every laugh, every joke and sarcastic comment, every piece of advice and comfort, every scream and whisper, every kiss and every hug, every look and touch and sound. He’s taken songs, and secrets, and memories. No longer can the sky be blue or the grass green, no longer can the water be cold, or warm or be. No longer will the sun rise. He has taken everything with him and yet, he has left even more behind.
People
People who have to push through knowing he’s never going to be what would’ve been, what could’ve been him. Sirius keeps sobbing into the darkness, sometimes he doesn’t know who he is grieving, who he was or who he should be. Sometimes he doesn’t know if he’s thinking about the sun or himself.
There’s a soft knock on his door. Sirius doesn’t answer, nor does Remus attempt to come in. This has also been going on for three days, ever since Sirius had turned his room into a vacuum in which neither time nor space exists. Remus isn’t trying to get him out, they're just soft reminders that he is there, alive, and waiting for Sirius whenever he’s ready.
Sirius knows that he never will be. How can he? How can love exist at all in this world that surely must have had all it’s life sucked from it. And yet…it must, because Sirius aches, he aches all over and constantly and that can only be because of how big and all encompassing loving him had been.
That’s when the third and final wave hits.
Harry, the worst of everything he has left behind.
Sirius and Remus got to know him as a friend, experiencing his mischief and dedication and comfort. Lily was able to know him as her love, know what it’s like to fall asleep in his arms and wake up to his smile, know his most delicate corners and softest of laughs. Euphemia and Fleamont above all got to see him grow into the man that he became, they got to see his heart love and his chest swell and his eyes shine, a reflection of courage, honesty and joy.
Harry, however doesn’t get his own little thing. He was supposed to know him as a father, a larger than life, godlike presence with open arms ready to take on the world for him. Instead all he gets is a puzzle, one he must build himself from stories and pictures and distorted memories. He won’t ever know him as as a human, only as a construct, one he was meant to love. That’s the greatest tragedy of all isn’t it, that he won’t get to love his father at all, he’ll love the friend, the husband, the son but he’ll never get to love the father.
And as heartbreaking as is all that, Sirius cannot look at Harry. He hates him for being everything his father can’t be anymore, for needing Sirius to take his place when he can barely recognise himself. He hates him for being able to smile and laugh, for being too young to hold and relay memories, for knowing stories that he’ll never tell. Most of all though, Sirius can’t look at Harry because Harry is exactly like his father in every aspect except for the eyes. He hates harry for denying him the chance to look into them for the rest of his life.
He doesn’t plan on hating Harry forever, but for right now, he’s a painful reminder of everything that won’t ever be.
Life after his best friend simultaneously feels like it’s been put on hold and sped up at the same time. Both, like nothing will ever be anything and like everything is too much. Sirius has to keep existing even though he’s lost everything that ever gave him light.
So the curtains have been drawn shut for three days and Sirius doesn’t know what scares him most about opening them up. Seeing that the sun has gone out, or discovering that it persists even through the greatest loss of something bigger than the whole sky.
EPILOGUE
Remus brings out the cake slowly so as not to drop it. He spent all morning frosting it carefully in red and gold, two candles in the shape of a 1 tower over the piped text that reads.
Happy Birthday Harry
He approaches the table to find Harry nestled on Sirius’ lap, Euphemia and Fleamont on either side of them awaiting the cake as they all sing in unison the birthday song.
Harry smiles widely, exactly like his dad and wrinkles his eyes exactly like his mom and no one flinches. Sirius however does lock eyes with Remus, understanding pulsing through the room, they give each other a comforting smile.
As they stop singing, the cake is placed in front of Harry who closes his eyes and takes less than a second to think of a wish, blowing out the candles before anyone can think to take a mental picture of the scene.
The cake is eaten enthusiastically, Remus’ baking skills are not to be disputed, and then comes the time for presents.
Fleamont and Euphemia gift him a golden snitch, the one from James' first quidditch game as they relay some stories about the athlete that he was, Harry seems to be following in his footseps.
Them comes Remus who has gifted him a small book of adventures, some chosen one trope type of thing that he hopes Harry will enjoy.
Finally Sirius brings out a huge package, wrapped in bright red paper. Harry’s face lights up, his eyes going wide in anticipation and Remus has to stop himself from rolling his eyes all the way to the back of his head.
“Honestly, Pads, you spoil him”
Sirius shrugs with a smile as if to say can you blame me and then winks at Remus before he turns his attention back onto Harry.
The 4 of them watching little Harry experience life with the same sweeping passion they thought had died somewhere in 1981.