InsaneJournal

There was a faint pop as Sirius apparated into James and Lily's front room. "Fuck," he said, intelligently. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck." He sniffed, swiping his sleeve over his nose, which was running a little and felt strangely clean and empty. He'd been running around as Padfoot when the phone had gone off - it was harder to talk yourself into a hole when you were only capable of barking or howling or whining. But then the text had come through and suddenly his heart was doing laps of the city and his stomach was squirming and his whole chest ached but that didn't matter right now because really he just needed to find James.

He found him in the kitchen. Huddled in the corner, knees pulled tight to his chest, face drawn and pale and one lense of his glasses shattered. Something yanked painfully in Sirius' chest, and he remembered the dream Ariadne had crashed. The body sprawled in the hall. He felt a bit sick.

"Prongs?" he croaked. Carefully, like a man approaching a frightened animal, Sirius moved towards his friend, squatting down before him. James was older than he had been yesterday - suddenly about Sirius' own age - but his expression was young. Sirius only felt about twelve years old himself as he reached slowly out, brushing his fingers against James' shaking wrist. Then his hand wrapped around James' arm, in a grip that felt a lot more confident and steady than he did.

"James? It's me."