Siri. Jamie. It was a trick, this had to be a trick. A nasty, bitter, evil trick. Lily was dead, and James was dead, and no one was going to call him Siri anymore, even if it had always only ever been Lily.
She was stroking his muzzle and it felt nice. And Padfoot was tired, he'd been in the dark for so long, and maybe he was hungry too, he couldn't remember eating. His head was pressing harder into her hand as gravity caught up, eyes wanting to close at the gentle petting.