Sirius
Sirius had done some reflecting in the past week.
That mostly consisted of getting pissed, crashing at Lily and James’, and watching them laugh with Harry, all the while thinking:
There is no way in hell Remus and I can do that.
There was a time he believed that they could. Once, in fourth year Herbology, the class had somehow gotten on the subject of evolution and reproduction, and James asked, “Do you want kids someday, Moony?”
Remus’ face had instantly turned red, and he muttered, “Well… yeah, If I wasn’t… you know.”
The memory haunted Sirius for the next four years.
He used to lie awake sometimes, especially during that short period of heaven in seventh year, and think about their future together.
Sirius didn’t want kids. He’d rather die than pass on the Black family DNA so carelessly. He knew that deep down, Remus never wanted a biological kid, either. It would kill him to possibly force lycanthropy on someone else.
But a kid didn’t have to be biological. That’s what Sirius thought about his last few months at Hogwarts. How he and Moony could raise a kid together and shower him or her or them with all the love the two of them never got to feel for themselves.
But Remus would be his coworker, not Moony. And there was no way in hell he could be in the same room as Remus all day without ripping him to shreds, never mind be in charge of children.
So by the end of the week, Sirius had come to a couple conclusions:
- Sirius would not (could not) work with Remus.
- The Potters and the Weasleys and the Vances and the Longbottoms would have to find somewhere else to drop their screaming children.
- Sirius would go to Dumbledore and convince the old goat to make him an Auror without a psychological screening test and then he would ask to go on a field mission in Scotland or Ireland and that would be it.
***
Sirius watched Remus cross the lawn of the Potter Manor. Sirius’ sunglasses were really doing wonders. The late June sun seemed to singe the grass, but with the sunglasses on, it looked almost dusk. And if Sirius really squinted, he could pretend Remus was just a shadow that would eventually disappear into the forest.
“Are you a vampire? What’s with the sunglasses?” With his last step, Remus swiped the sunglasses from Sirius’ face and tossed them onto the porch railing.
Sirius clapped a hand over his eyes immediately. “What is wrong with you?” he hissed.
“Are you hungover?”
“No.”
“You know you can’t be hungover around kids, right?”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well, good thing we won’t be around kids. It’s only Prongs today, remember?”
Remus set his jaw. “Actually, I have to tell you that—”
“Merlin, same." Sirius almost collapsed in relief, and he would’ve hugged Remus if Remus didn’t have the body language of a block of ice. “I can’t do it either.”
Remus’ face brightened. “Thank God. I thought you’d force me to go through with this.”
Sirius grinned. “Nope. I value my freedom as a fun, young, single uncle. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
“Good, so we agree,” Remus said, clearly surprised that Sirius hadn't put up a fight. He cleared his throat and Sirius watched in amusement. “We are in agreement, right? There’s no way we’re doing this. No one’s changing our minds.”
Sirius nodded. “I wouldn’t change my mind if Merlin himself threw a temper tantrum.”
There was a sharp crack from the woodline, and Sirius swore under his breath. He pushed himself from the Potters’ front door and slipped his sunglasses back on, not looking back at Remus. “Let me deal with this.”
“Gladly.” A snap and sharp inhale told Sirius that Remus had already started smoking.
James stood by the trees, wearing the look of a little girl who’d fallen from her bike for the first time or a little boy on the first day of school. His arms hung limply at his sides, and although Sirius was across the lawn, he knew James was about to start crying as he stared at his parents’ empty house.
Sirius threw his arms up as he strode across the grass. “Prongs, Prongs, Prongs! Come on, mate, we'll only be here a half hour.”
James gave a shaky breath, clapping Sirius on the back as soon as he was near enough. “Let’s get it over with, then.”
Sirius propelled James to the front door, James’ hand clutching painfully around his neck.
Remus shuffled out of the way as they both watched James fumble with the key.
Sirius' eyes flicked up to Remus. He quickly reached over and plucked Remus’ cigarette from his lips, throwing it on the ground and stomping it out.
No smoking in Effie’s house, Sirius’ eyes said.
With a sharp tilt of his head, Remus silently retorted, I still had five seconds, you absolute prick.
The green door swung open and James breathed, “Oh, I miss my mum.”
Sirius’ breath caught in his throat.
The house was draped in the memory of Euphemia and Fleamont. The air still crackled with the smell of Effie’s herbs and the floorboards that creaked under Sirius’ feet were the same ones that had caught the dirt from Monty’s boots.
James threw the keys onto the kitchen counter and a sad echo filled the kitchen. “Well.” James turned around, blinking furiously. “How much of a tour do you need if you practically grew up here with me?”
Remus almost jumped, pulling a note from his pocket. “Lily says we need to know about the kitchen… and what bedrooms to use… and what parts of the lawn are still maintained.”
“Okay, kitchen, kitchen, kitchen,” James murmured, swivelling on his heel. “Obviously, it’s here. You can use the bathroom right down the hall to clean up the babies after meals. I mean, that’s what it’s there for.”
Sirius and Remus’ eyes shot open at the same moment.
“It's for them?” Sirius asked.
“Well, yeah.” James led them out of the kitchen and down the first hallway. “See how the screen door is right there, and how this is the only downstairs bathtub? It’s here so my mother could clean me up after breakfast and also for when I was a little older and would track mud through the door. I’d only get to here and then voila, a tub.”
Sirius peered around the bathroom, even though he’d been in it plenty of times. It all made sense now, the low tub, the counter just wide enough for a child to sit on top of, the bright colors on the walls. It was a childhood home, a concept so foreign to Sirius that he could just barely grasp it.
When he stepped back into the hallway, Remus’ eyes were pleading for help.
James took a large, wet sniff through his nose. “You two don’t know how much this means to me. Alice and I went to Marlene’s Quidditch banquet yesterday, and all we could talk about was how grateful we are. You don’t know—”
James’ voice cracked and Sirius sighed, pulling him into a tight hug.
“You don’t know how it is,” James choked out, “to not know what’s going to happen to your kid.”
Sirius felt the bitter sting of guilt where James held him. “Prongs, we would never let that happen. Not to you or Harry.”
James gave a muffled cry and hugged Sirius tighter.
“We would never even suggest it,” Remus added, which was a mistake, because James cried harder and pulled Remus into the hug.
There was an awkward moment where Sirius’ hand touched Remus’, and they both yanked themselves away with unnecessary drama, pulling James between them like a tug-of-war game.
James broke away, clapping them both on the shoulders. “You two are some of my oldest and greatest friends. There’s no one else I’d rather take care of my son.”
“Thank you, James,” Remus said through gritted teeth.
Sirius feigned a smile. “Could you show us where the knives are? Lily said we might have to cut some food up for the littler tykes.”
“Of course, of course.” James meandered back into the kitchen and Sirius spared a glance at Remus, who lifted his eyebrows.
“Not if Merlin himself threw a temper tantrum?” Remus whispered, his breath making the hair on Sirius’ neck stand up.
“Yeah, but it was James,” Sirius hissed back, pushing by him.
James tapped the first kitchen drawer. “Utensils are still here. And that reminds me…” He turned to Sirius with a sympathetic look. “You’re kicked out of the house tonight, mate.”
“What?” Sirius exclaimed.
“You live with James?” Remus asked at the same time.
Sirius turned to Remus. “I have a bedroom.”
“It’s a guest bedroom,” James clarified.
“It’s pretty much mine,” Sirius retorted.
“I see,” said Remus.
“Anyway, you can’t stay over tonight,” James went on. “Lily’s finally getting that green kitchen she’s always wanted. The paint fumes will be terrible.”
Sirius threw his hands up in the air. “Prongs! You can't just kick me out of my own—your own house! Where am I supposed to go on short notice?”
“Remus’,” said James plainly.
Remus blanched. “No.”
“No,” Sirius laughed. “That’s the last place I would go.”
“Well, who else is going to take you on short notice?” James challenged. “Remus seems like your best bet to me. Maybe even your only bet.”
Sirius grit his teeth together. He was actually one hundred percent sure what James (and by proxy, Lily) were up to. “No good, Prongs. I’m finding somewhere else. Watch me.”