Sirius Black (dogstarred) wrote in the100, @ 2015-04-27 22:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | !network post, james potter, sirius black |
Who: James & Sirius
What: Post-Peter
When: Around whenever Peter arrived
Where: random hallway inside Mt. Weather, near the exit
Warnings: Mentions of violence?
This was a mess.
James’s whole world had turned upside down, that was the truth of it. It had started the moment he’d gotten here, but it had gotten so much more real the moment Peter showed up. James hadn’t really understood just how much unrest and turmoil the future held for the people he cared about, but he did now. And he wanted none of it.
It made him irrational in an angry way, so that it was directed at everyone, and he didn’t even really know why. He had intended to be stubborn and hold onto his sulk until he’d managed to talk to Peter and gotten his answers, but Peter wasn’t answering him and sometime in the middle of the night, James’s resolve started to waver.
Because when it came down to it, the real reason he was angry was just because everything was messed up and he wanted it to be fixed. He wanted everything to have a solution that would suit everyone, even if it wasn’t perfect. He wanted the life he was supposed to have with Lily and Harry and his friends, and he couldn’t have it. He couldn’t even have it here, because either Peter-- or Sirius, by murdering him-- was going to mess it up.
James wanted to yell and scream, or cry, or make things explode. He wanted to go home. He was too young for this, for all of it; he was dealing with problems he wasn’t ready for. But he didn’t have a choice.
Eventually, when he just couldn’t stand it anymore, he started to wander. In search of Peter or Sirius or someone else entirely, he didn’t know. But he found Sirius first, which wasn’t really surprising, when it came down to it. Had Sirius been in human form, his anger might have flared up again, but it was a lot harder to be angry with his friend when he was Padfoot.
Normally he might have snuggled up close and started scratching the dog’s ears, if he wanted to be comforting. Tonight he didn’t, but he sat down anyway, about a foot away, and folded his knees up close to his chest. He rested his elbows on them, and just sat there, staring at the wall ahead of him. He might have conceded to coming here and finding Sirius, but he wasn’t going to be the one to start the conversation.
--
He was angry, and he was hurt. He couldn’t stand that Peter was here. He had set out with a singular mission just before he had arrived here; if he was going to Azkaban, he was going to do something worthy of being there. He didn’t have a friend left in the entire wizarding world, but at least he could take down the man who had all but killed Lily and James.
And then he was back here, and Sirius had that chance all over again. Peter was back, about to pivot, ready to betray them, and everyone was here and alive and well. And Sirius just couldn’t have that again. He couldn’t survive watching Peter betray them again.
But then, something that was worse happened. Remus and James both defended him. As if Sirius was the one who was doing something wrong or outlandish by wanting to get rid of the man who had lied to their faces -- who had convinced Sirius that Remus was the one who wasn’t to be trusted, who had let him pitch the idea that Peter would be the safest of the lot to be the Secret Keeper. Who had let him do all these things and let him take the fall; who had let him walk into that house where James and Lily were cold and still, and let him take Harry, only to have him taken away within minutes.
He didn’t know which was worse: James, whom he loved more than anything, whom he’d had to deal with fucking losing. Or Remus, who had been ready to beat him into a pulp when he had arrived, but had the one to grab him and been No, Sirius, no--
So, he was staying as Padfoot, because that was easier. But even knew Padfoot knew that smell -- James, and started to whine as soon as it started to come closer, and then James was right there. Padfoot growled then, a sound that had never been directed at James, and tried to back up, front feet skittering across the ground, back already pressed against the wall.
…
James decided to take that growl as the start to the conversation. He wasn’t afraid of Sirius; a man that was so angry and hurt over his death and so ready to kill the man who’d given him up wasn’t about to hurt him. He might not have known Peter well enough, but he knew Sirius. He knew he wasn’t in any danger, no matter how fearsome that growl sounded.
He didn’t look at his friend, just kept staring at the wall. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually, Pads,” he said tiredly. “We might as well start now.”
--
The growl almost immediately turned back into a whine the instant that James spoke. He didn’t want to. Padfoot was an easy escape, emotions filtered down. But even like this, Padfoot was torn: He knew James too well; the pain of having disappointed him was unbearable even in dog form, and he was stuck between continuing whining and crawling over and licking James in a show of comfort.
But neither of those things would fix what had just happened.
And the hardest part of the matter was that he knew he couldn’t waste the time had with James. It was too precious.
So he turned back, remaining pressed against the ground, back against the wall. His knees were propped up in front of him, hands crossed and pressed against his knees.
…
The whine tugged on James’s heartstrings. His face visibly fell, just hearing it, because he knew-- somehow-- what it meant. He couldn’t have put it into words, but he understood it. He wanted to reach out and scratch the dog behind his ears, but he was still upset, or maybe at this point it was just a point of pride.
Oh, hell. What was pride anyway? Nothing, by comparison to friendship.
Sirius changed back, and James scooted over to him, reaching out. He brushed a hand through Sirius’s hair, as if he were still Padfoot, and then lowered his arm. He leaned back against the wall again, lowering his head to rest on Sirius’s shoulder.
And then he was stuck again, not knowing what to say to make it better. So he just sat there, waiting for something to come to him, or for Sirius to begin-- whichever came first.
--
He didn’t know if he wanted James this close. It was hard to think when James was right there, touching him and then putting a head on his shoulder. And in the same moment, it reminded Sirius of how young James was. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t make James understand, not when he was so young, still so untouched by everything that had happened. He had never felt this distanced from James, not even after their fifth year, when he didn’t think that any of them would ever speak to him again.
“You wouldn’t have done this,” Sirius said, and his voice was raw instead of accusing. “If it had been the other way.”
He knew it was mean. He knew it was probably the meanest thing that he could say to James in this instance. But that was all he could think: If it had been James who had found him dead, James would have done the same. His always-noble James would have never let his murderer just wander about freely, no consequences, welcomed back into the fold with just a warning.
…
“If you’d been the one to die, you mean?” James said, and his voice came out raw, too. “You think I haven’t thought about that? It’s bad enough that you went to Azkaban. He didn’t just end my life and Lily’s, he destroyed yours. And Harry’s. And Moony’s.”
That part hurt more than even his death. He knew he’d sacrificed himself; he must have hoped that it would put an end to it. That he would die so that Lily would get away, Harry would be alright, and everyone else would, too. “Pads. I know why you want him dead. I get it, okay? I just want things to be better here.” He made a sound somewhere between exasperation and anguish. “I don’t want you going back to jail. I don’t want all of us to be at odds. I want us to be a family, the way we should be. Not with Peter,” he clarified, in case Sirius misunderstood his meaning. “He’s tearing us apart all over again, Sirius. We can’t let that happen.”
--
“You might have thought about it, but you didn’t have to go into that house,” Sirius said, his tongue too sharp, the words too cutting. He knew, of course, it was James who died. But the James he was looking at now was young; Lily herself had said it. He didn’t understand in the same way they did. He could theorize the pain, but he didn’t know it. He didn’t know what it was like to watch the war grind them all down, to finally reach a day where your bravery ran out. The fear set in, too bone deep to root out. He didn’t know what it was like when that started to devour you, and suddenly everyone around you was a traitor. (Moony was out a few days too long with the wolf pack, and Marlene had said something funny at the last Order meeting. He didn’t know what it was like to fervently hope that Voldemort would go after Alice and Frank and Neville instead of Lily and James and Harry, and then to feel that guilt sit heavy in your gut when you saw Frank -- looking just as worn as afraid as James; and oh, then, it was the reverse, Frank looking at you a minute too long, because that’s right, Sirius is the one with all that bad blood in him, isn’t he?)
“I can’t live with him here,” Sirius said, and his voice broke as he said it. He couldn’t do it -- not when Peter had been the one at the center of all that bad feeling. The rest of them shouldering on, trying to keep together, and sniping at each other heels all the same, because someone in their ranks had given in a little more, a little more dangerously than the rest of them. And they would all pay for that -- James and Lily dead, and Frank and Alice rattled to pieces. The Prewetts and the Bones and Marlene.
…
James didn’t really have an answer to that. Not one that would fix anything, anyway. He couldn’t make this better, he couldn’t make Peter less of a traitor, he couldn’t change anything that had happened. Well, maybe, just maybe-- if he went home and remembered this-- he could change it. But who knew when, or if, any of them would ever be going home? And what if he went home, and nothing changed?
“You have to,” he said finally. “You don’t have to like it, or even pretend to. But you have to live, because I’m not living without you.”
And that was a horrible, selfish thing to ask. He knew it, even as he said it. It wasn’t his fault that Peter was here, but he knew the only reason that Sirius could possibly live with it was for James. It was the only thing that could possibly cancel out wanting to kill him because of James. But ultimately what it came down to was that James could live with Sirius killing Peter, and Peter being dead, if he had to. He just couldn’t live
He also didn’t expect that Sirius would be happy with him for it. He didn’t have any further arguments to support it, either, so he started to get his feet. This was all just too damn much for him to deal with.
--
Sirius watched him get up and go, but he didn’t say anything further. It didn’t matter. He knew they were at an impasse for a strange moment in their lives. Because Sirius wouldn’t live with it, no matter what James said. James would insist he had to; Sirius would insist he didn’t.
It felt like they were back in the middle of the war. And the war had taught Sirius the very key differences between himself and James. He had always thought they were almost the same person, built on the same foundations. But as much as he had tried to run from the Black family, they were part of his foundations -- for better and worse. And hating them meant that he was willing to do anything to protect the new family he had gained. Anything.
It had been strange and uncomfortable to learn the new lengths that he would go to to win the war -- because he had turned around at some point and realized that James wasn’t right there with him. (Strangely, though, Moony was, and maybe that was why they had been the two that were suspicious. That darkness that tinged both of them, Moony as a werewolf, and him as a pureblood, had caught up with them at some point. It made them willing to try things that others shied away from, and it was those same things -- done in the name of victory for the right side -- that had caused their side to glance at them askance.)
And Sirius would put those things to use here again. Sirius wasn’t afraid of casting the Killing Curse. He could kill Peter if he had to. And he certainly had to, no matter what James said, no matter if it cost him James here in the end.
…