Sirius
Sometimes, Sirius and James still acted like children.
They were both twenty one, but age hadn’t caught up to them yet. Sure, they both had to stretch before playing games of pick-up Quidditch, but they could still fly (and have fun doing it). They were full of unspent energy and juvenile humor. And even though James had one child, and Sirius sometimes had six, there were moments where they barely looked a day over eleven.
They really were twins— each bent down and inspecting the problem with all the intensity of two fathers debating how to fix a toilet leak or a broken broomstick.
Sirius would’ve rathered a broken broomstick, honestly.
Sirius Black and James Potter could mess up anything else and get away with it— but not Harry Potter’s first birthday cake.
“This really shouldn’t be that difficult,” James muttered, “but all the fire spells we learned in school seem too weak—”
“— And the ones we learned from Mad-Eye are too strong,” Sirius said.
“Yeah.”
Sirius drummed his fingers on the kitchen table, not taking his eyes off the cake. “We could ask Fred to use his fireworks to light the candle?”
James winced. “That seems exploitative.”
“Molly’s not here.”
“Still.” James crossed his arms, deep in thought. He shrugged his shoulders. “We could ask Moony to light it with that fancy cigarette trick he does.”
“No, thanks,” Sirius said immediately. “I know a good spell. I’ll just say it quietly so it’s not as intense.”
James looked from the cake to Sirius, realization dawning on his face a second too late. “Wait, Padfoot—”
But Sirius had already pushed back his sleeves. “Incendio!” he whispered, but the volume of his voice had no effect whatsoever on the power of the spell.
A jet of flames shot at the cake and James jumped backwards. “SHIT! SIRIUS, STOP! AGUAMENTI!”
A splash of water erupted from James’ wand and doused the burning cake. The candle wax had almost become liquid, dripping over into the runny frosting. A circular burn mark sizzled at the center of the table.
Sirius and James looked at each other.
Sirius bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing and James’ eyes were almost pooling over, but they shook their heads at each other to say, Don’t you dare start because I won’t be the one to stop.
James took a deep breath to compose himself, clearing his throat before he spoke. “I think I’ll get Wormy,” he managed.
“Fine idea, Prongs.” Sirius clenched his eyes shut.
“Put something over the burn mark, yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
James stepped outside, and Sirius whipped his head around. He yanked open a kitchen drawer, quickly pulling out a tablecloth that Lily had neatly tucked beside some paper towels.
“Evanesco.” Sirius vanished the cake and threw the tablecloth over the burn just as James re-entered the kitchen.
Remus and Peter were close behind him, Peter obviously annoyed at being pulled from Quidditch talk with Marlene and Remus peering curiously over James’ shoulder. Sirius adjusted the tablecloth, pressing his hands against the fabric so it wouldn’t move.
“What did you do?” Peter asked suspiciously.
Sirius was about to say, nothing, but thought better of it. He glanced at James for direction, but James was purposely averting his eyes.
James knocked Peter in the shoulder with his elbow. “We need a favor. Can you apparate and buy a new cake? Right now. Please.”
“A new cake?” Peter asked. “What happened to the old one?”
Sirius saw Remus’ eyes wander to the table cloth. Sirius smoothed it out with one hand, but when he looked up, Remus was watching him. There was a hint, a ghost, a faded smile hidden behind a fake look of importance.
Oh, Moony, I hope you’re okay.
Peter grumbled under his breath but quickly apparated, making Sirius jump.
James gave a loud sigh, probably to make his presence known rather than to actually complain about something. “I’m glad we’re all here together.”
Remus recoiled, smashing his head on the white cabinets. “Don’t hug me.”
“Oh, I won’t, you prude, ” James waved a hand. “I just wanted to thank you for both showing up. I was worried after Lily told me about that conversation, Remus—”
“What?” Remus’ eyebrows shot up. “You talk to Lily about me?”
“Of course. We talk about you, and Padfoot, and Marlene… and Mary…” James listed, leaning against a kitchen chair.
Sirius straightened, eyes darting from Remus to James. Remus was trying desperately to convey something to James, but even Sirius couldn’t comprehend the one-sided, silent conversation. James didn’t have a chance.
“I know my friends’ names. What did Lily say?” Remus asked forcefully.
“That you two were having problems again,” James said. “I mean, I picked that up, too, from the party. I’m not a complete idiot, you know. But I thought you two were getting along again. I guess not, though. Lily said you hate each other.”
Remus didn’t relax, and his body language put Sirius on edge.
“It’s not hatred—” Sirius started.
“Hate is a strong word,” Remus said. “We don’t let the twins say it.”
James shook his head to hide a smile. “Never thought I’d hear that.”
“It was supposed to help,” Sirius said. He crossed his arms to mirror James. “Remember? That’s what Molly said. Have a bunch of kids and raise them together and that’s supposed to help you like each other.”
James’ constant fidgeting suddenly stopped. “What?”
“Do I really need to repeat it? Have a bunch of kids—”
James’ eyes widened, then squinted, and he pushed Sirius (violently) way from the table. “What? That’s the most shit piece of advice I’ve ever heard! What the fuck? And you two idiots listened to her?” His head whipped to Remus.
Remus gave an exaggerated nod. “Erm, yeah.”
“It seemed like sound advice at the time,” Sirius said. “Prongs, are you going to vomit? Ron threw up on my jacket the other day and I can’t deal with Round Two. Pull yourself together.”
James pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re telling me that Molly Weasley told you that children would be the ones to help your relationship?”
“Yes,” Remus replied, “and I think they have. A little.”
Sirius nodded in agreement.
“But that’s not exactly a child’s job, is it?” James said. “I mean, shouldn’t you like each other before you have kids? Shouldn’t you pour as much love into one child as you can instead of having seventeen thousand that will grow up with significantly less?”
“James, we watch six kids for eight hours a day. We don’t actually have children.” Remus gestured between himself and Sirius.
But James was too far gone. He paced the length of the kitchen, ripping his black hair from its roots. “Shit, shit, shit! When you have that kind of mentality, when you shift your responsibility onto literal children, it’s not long before the older kids end up raising the younger ones.”
Remus’ eyes flitted quickly to Sirius. “Like Percy?”
“Like fucking Percy!” James threw his head back and groaned. “I can’t stand it. That’s… that’s… I’ll raise Percy. An older sibling has the right to enjoy childhood as much as any other kid. I swear, as long as I am on this earth, children will be children and adults will act like goddamn adults.”
Sirius had heard that before.
He’d heard it whispered on the Potters’ stairs late at night when Effie and Monty thought he was sleeping. He’d heard it come from James’ own mouth numerous times whenever he brought up the Black family.
Children will be children and adults will be adults.
A slow realization began to dawn on Sirius as he watched James spew angry nonsense to the white cabinets.
Sirius had already healed in a way that James had not.
There were some peaceful moments when Sirius forgot that he hadn’t lived with the Potters his entire life— though of course, it never really left him. His past was apparent in the way he treaded lightly on the floorboards, and how he stared up at the ceiling instead of sleeping. Sirius was the adult now, though, and he was doing the best he could.
“Prongs, I have eyes on Percy, it’s okay,” Sirius tried to reassure him.
James stopped pacing. “You know what we learned in my psychology class at the Ministry?”
A silence fell in the kitchen as James looked at Sirius and Remus expectantly.
“That you got too much fuckin’ love as a child?” Sirius tried to add some humor with a barking laugh, quickly clearing his throat when he realized neither Remus or James had cracked a smile.
“No.” James stared at him. “They told us that kids notice everything. They soak everything in. You can’t expect them to be there just for your own benefit. They look to you for what to do, they look to you as their role models. Merlin’s beard, Molly Weasley needs to be put under house arrest…”
Sirius snuck a glance at Remus. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the white cabinets, deep in thought.
It reminded him of the Remus in school, the one whose quiet intelligence had created the best of the Marauders’ pranks. It was that look that Sirius really loved. Not the I’m-hanging-on-for-my-fucking-life-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do look he sometimes wore. Not the I-hate-you-Sirius-Black-fuck-you-and-your-motorbike look, either. It was this one.
He loved that look.
Merlin, if kids noticed everything, did Sirius’ kids think that he hated Remus? If Lily thought they hated each other, and James, too (bless his soul), did Missy and Percy and the twins and the babies view them as rivals instead of a team? That couldn’t be true.
Sirius didn’t hate Remus.
He couldn’t. Not for his sake or anyone else’s. Him and Remus had loved each other before and they would love each other after, and now their explosive fights felt almost like a ruse.
Sirius could move on. He knew they weren’t trying. What would happen if they were?
“Sorry, lads,” James wiped a hand over his face. “I guess I have problems with Molly Weasley’s parenting. I know you take good care of those kids during the day . You’re great fake dads.”
“It’s called a babysitter, Prongs,” Remus said quietly.
“Right. Babysitter. You two are doing great, don’t let me scare you,” James said, though Sirius could tell from the tension in his voice that he was still agitated. “You’d be fantastic real dads, someday, too, if you wanted. Better than that old—”
Peter appeared in the center of the kitchen, gripping a chocolate cake still in the store packaging. “Am I too late?” he wheezed, trying to catch his breath.
“Just in time, Petey boy. Come on!” James pushed Peter from the kitchen, Sirius and Remus trailing silently behind.
Lily burst through the doorway, crashing into James and Peter. She yelped in surprise.
James caught the door before it slammed on her. “Slow down, hell-on-wheels, the cake’s all set.”
Lily gave a sharp exhale. “Well, it’s about time! Honestly! This feels like the beginning of a joke. How many Marauders does it take to light one birthday candle?”
“Four, apparently.” Sirius smiled, and Remus laughed.
“Come on.” Lily took the cake from Peter and looked to see if James was next to her. “Ready? Haaaaappy Birthday to you…”