lls_mutant

***

"I'm impressed by some of these vintages," Kingsley said as he picked up another bottle. "You know, you could sell these and bring yourself several hundred Galleons."

"Waste of good wine," Sirius said. "Besides, I have money. I just can't get out to do anything with it, or give it to people who need it."

Kingsley smiled sympathetically, but offered no attempts at comfort. Sirius was relieved. As much as he liked Molly, she would have tried to give him some platitude about how it would all work out eventually. Which would be fine, if Sirius believed it. He picked up a bottle and dusted it off, and then dropped it as some coating made his hands begin to burn. The glass shattered, spraying red wine on their robes, and Sirius bit his lips in pain.

Kingsley touched his wand to Sirius's palms, and the blistered skin began to cool, but not heal. "I'm guessing that was an especially good one, right?"

"My father was always very particular about who touched his wine collection," Sirius said. "I don't know why I didn't check to see if any of these spells were still active."

"Your parents were a piece of work," Kingsley observed. He took Sirius's hand in his and turned it over. "I think we're going to need to put a Cooling Compress on your palms, too."

Sirius sighed. "You're probably right. Come on."

Their footsteps resounded through the empty house. Sirius looked around from habit, but there was no one anywhere. The children were out with Molly at Diagon Alley, Arthur was at work, Remus was with the werewolves, and the rest of the Order was off at jobs or fighting evil or being a part of the world. As they walked by, he could hear his mother's portrait muttering from under the curtains. He made a face.

Kingsley located the first aid supplies Molly had brought in and pulled out a packet. He tapped it with his wand and ice formed on it, and he handed it to Sirius. "Keep that on your palms," he said. "And sit down. Burns that severe can cause shock."

"Thanks," Sirius said. "I'm going to be kicking myself over this one for days."

Kingsley pilfered two pieces of an apple tart that Molly had made and two heaping scoops of ice cream and sat down across from Sirius. "I think your parents and mine would have liked each other."

"Yeah? Your parents were close-minded evil bigots as well?"

"They weren't Dark Wizards, if that's what you mean," Kingsley said, shoveling up a bite and chewing it rather inelegantly. "But they weren't exactly fit to have children. Especially my mother."

"Oh." Sirius's mouth twisted into an ugly smile. "I see."

"One of the things that intrigued me when I first took your case was the fact you ran away when you were sixteen. I did, too."

"Really?" Sirius regarded him with renewed interest. "Where did you go?"

"Hogwarts. Didn't really have a lot of other places to go, to be honest. I only had one more year left, and Dumbledore allowed me to stay there for the summer."

"Lily never mentioned."

"Lily never knew. I left long after she and I broke up." Kingsley chewed reflectively, his eyes focused on something far away. "Anyway. May I ask you an odd sort of question?"

"You can ask," Sirius said with a shrug. His hands were much better, so he kept one on the compress and picked up his fork with the other. "I can’t guarantee an answer."

"Did you ever forgive your parents?"

"No. I can't. I tried to, but I can't." Sirius sighed. "It caused me a great deal of conflict at the time. And a great deal of heartache."

"I know."

Sirius smiled sadly. "You do, and you don't," he said. "You said you know a lot about me. Did you know that was the reason I wasn't taken on at St. John's right after Hogwarts?"

"No."

"It is. I thought about it some in the years after I left, before Azkaban. And intellectually, I understand."

"Violation of the Second Commandment, right? Honor thy father and thy mother?"

"Well, yes, but that's not exactly why. It wasn't because of a sin."

"I don't quite understand," Kingsley admitted.

"Well, priests aren't expected to be perfect," Sirius said, slipping into an academic tone of voice. "But my failure to forgive my parents does indicate a lack of faith. See, I don't think any human being could forgive that kind of betrayal on their own. They would have to have God's help to do so. And the first step to that sort of forgiveness would be to trust in God to help you forgive and honor them, completely. If you hold back, worried that you're going to be hurt again, it's a sign that you aren't really able to trust God to help you. That you still want the control, that you still need the power. And I couldn't do that. I couldn't trust God that much. And I didn't want to forgive them."

Kingsley nodded. "I guess. It seems an impossible task."

"Tell me about it. And if I hadn't been looking to be a priest, perhaps it wouldn't have stood in my way. It wasn't the anger or the sin that gave them reservation- it was the evidence that I could not put my faith in God the way a priest is meant to."

"But if a person could have that faith?" Kingsley asked. "What would happen next?"

"Like I said, they'd have to be willing to forgive their parents. And the rest…" Sirius smiled bitterly. "I guess it would be a miracle."

"One of God's specialties."

"I don't know. Haven't seen a miracle in a long time," Sirius said sourly.

Kingsley was silent for a while. Finally, he asked, "Do you want to?"

"Want to what? Forgive my parents?"

"No. See a miracle."

"You make it sound like a magic trick," Sirius grumbled.

"Well, if you ever do, let me know." Kingsley finished the last of his pie. "We should finish getting the wine."

"Right."

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

Kingsley cocked his head. "Forgiveness. What does that mean, exactly? That you'd go back and do it all the same?"

"Merlin, no!" Sirius said, drawing back in disgust. "Absolutely not! Besides, the Bible says honor thy mother and thy father, not be unto them a doormat. Forgiveness- real forgiveness- is when you have every reason to be mad at someone, even to hate them, and yet you can genuinely wish them well. You don't have to want to be around them anymore, but you genuinely wish them well."

Kingsley nodded at some private thought. "Thank you. You know, I know it's not worth much after all you've been through, but you would have made a good priest."

Sirius's face hardened. "Maybe once. But most definitely not any more."

***

When Sirius realized that wearing Muggle clothing in front of his mother's portrait was the high point of his day, he decided it was time to head upstairs. But once he got there, he didn't feel like undressing and going to bed, either. He shucked off his shoes, grabbed a book, and flopped down on the huge four poster bed with a well-worn paperback.

To his surprise, the door opened and Remus came in. Sirius flipped over onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows. "Hey. I didn't realize you were coming back tonight."

"I would have sent word," Remus said heavily, "but it really wasn't possible."

Sirius shrugged. "'Sall right."

"I know you'll kill me for saying this, but it's good to be back," Remus said, stretching as he took off his robe. He was wearing a shirt and sweater and trous underneath, and Sirius wondered what he'd been doing in the Muggle world that had been busy and dangerous enough to warrant not contacting him. But he didn't want to start the first time he'd seen Remus in three weeks off with a fight.

"I'd kill you if you didn't say it, too," he pointed out. "You can't win."

Remus laughed. "I suppose. Your hair is really getting long again, by the way." He sat down on a stool next to the bed and began taking off his shoes.

"I'll cut it some day," Sirius said dismissively.

"I saw Kingsley Shacklebolt leaving as I came in," Remus continued. "He's a nice enough bloke, but I still don't know what Lily saw in him."

"Really?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Good-looking, athletic, smart, brave, confident?"

Remus looked at him skeptically. "You sure you've never had a crush on him?"

"No," Sirius admitted honestly. Then he grinned wickedly. But they say once you have black you can never go back."

Remus's brows started down in his that's not funny I'm a prefect expression, but another thought struck him and he swatted at Sirius. "What an ego."

"Huh?"

"Black? Your last name?"

"Oh." Sirius considered. "Well, is it true?"

"Maybe not for Lily," Remus allowed. "She married James, and you don't get much pastier than James Potter in the winter. But for me… yeah. It's true."

Sirius smiled and reached out to take Remus's hand. Remus squeezed his in return.

"So what was Kingsley doing, anyway?" Sirius asked.

"Said something about meeting his father for coffee." Sirius sat very still. "What?" Remus asked, his face full of concern.

"It's just… we've been talking over the past few weeks and it would be like me going to meet my father for coffee. Well, maybe not quite that bad, but close."

"Oh. Wow, then." Remus sighed. He laced his fingers together and stared at them. "I also saw Dumbledore."

"Oh? What did the old coot- and I say that with affection-"

"Right."

"-want now?"

Remus looked up. "He wants us to get Harry tomorrow."

The world brightened considerably. "Harry?" Sirius said with a huge smile, sliding off the bed in his excitement. "Finally! It's about time! With everything that's going on, it really is best he's here. He needs to know-"

"Well, that's one of the roadblocks," Remus sighed. "Dumbledore doesn't want him knowing too much."

"Why the hell not?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "He's not seventeen. He's still a child who should be unburdened by all this."

"Tell that to Voldemort."

"No kidding. But the other thing… Dumbledore doesn't want you to go get him. He's afraid the risk will be too high."

Sirius waved that aside. As disappointing as it was, he'd been expecting it. He leaned his forearm against the post on the bed and looked at Remus, who had a worried expression. "But back to the not telling him issue. The prophecy that we're guarding is about him. Isn't not telling him criminal neglect?"

"Sirius, you know I agree with you," Remus said tiredly. "But Dumbledore refuses to see it our way."

"It's too risky. Not communicating is what fucked us up last time."

"He refuses to see it as the same thing, and he just won't change his mind, not matter what you or I say." Remus looked tired and worried.

Sirius crossed his arms and stood back resignedly. "Stupid Dumbledork."

Remus laughed. "Sirius, please don't say that around me. One day, I'll repeat it to his face."

"Oh yeah?" Sirius grinned evilly. "Dumbledork. Dumbledork. Dumble- AHH!"

He was cut off by Remus jumping up and smacking him playfully. He managed to grab Sirius's wrists and pin him against the wall, and Sirius was suddenly very aware just how long it they'd been apart. He pushed off, pinned Remus against the wall, and kissed him deeply. Remus responded, his hands moving from the wall to the front of Sirius's jeans, hastily unfastening them.

It wasn't new to kiss Remus any more. It was something expected and comfortable, but it still thrilled Sirius to the core. They knew each other's signals now, and each other's short hand. Soon their clothes were off and Remus's legs were wrapped around his waist, his back against the wall as Sirius pushed into him.

It was the most awkward, painful, athletic position ever, but somehow, it was incredible at the same time.

***

Seeing Harry again was wonderful. Sirius felt lighter than he had since he'd moved into this wretched place where dusty memories lurked in every corner.

And yet, surprisingly, Sirius found it hard to talk about himself. Not that it mattered- Harry was so caught up with his own concerns that he didn't notice his godfather's awkwardness. Sirius wondered if he'd been so… so egocentric as a teenager, and thought he probably had. It sort of went with the territory.

But still, he often felt like he was watching Harry from a distance, not really a part of his life. It only increased the sense of distance he was feeling from everyone; the isolation and the loneliness. He even envied Harry's close friendship with Ron, because in so many ways it reminded him of himself and James.

Some days he felt like a ghost, roaming the halls with no purpose. He had a feeling that once Harry returned to Hogwarts (as long as the Ministry didn't expel him), it would only get worse.

***

"Podmore and Diggle can take care of that," Arthur said, folding the plans over. "But I think that Tonks and Remus- if you're willing- can try to talk to Martha Cook. She's a small columnist at The Daily Prophet, but she seems like she's frustrated with the current situation and might be willing to listen, and even an unpopular columnist willing to run something will help."

"All right," Remus said, and looked over at Sirius. "You'll help me prepare the arguments for her, right?"

"Sure," Sirius said, trying not to think that Remus was throwing him a bone. He tried to school his mind back to the problem at hand. "Do you think the Prophet will let her run anything she might write? Or should we try finding another forum?"

"It's a good question," Arthur sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I think- oh, hello Kingsley," he said, as Kingsley fell out of the fireplace. "Everything all right?"

Kingsley sighed heavily. "Not particularly, but in no new way. Scrimgeour is starting to stick his nose into everything."

"That's bad?" Remus asked. "He always struck me as someone who might be willing to listen."

Kingsley shook his head. "Willing to listen, perhaps. Willing to do anything without making it harder for us? Doubtful."

"Well, pull up a chair and have a glass of wine," Sirius said, summoning one for him. "We're just planning the takeover of the media world."

They worked for another hour, until the explosion from the basement shook the kitchen. Kingsley looked surprised, but Sirius wearily brushed the plaster from the table, and Remus steadied the wine bottle. Arthur didn't even look up.

"Does that happen often?" Kingsley asked, undoubtedly remembering the wine cellar.

"When Fred and George are around, anything can happen," Arthur said, and then sat back and stretched. "I'm not sure there's much more we can do tonight." He picked up his glass. "Molly will be sending the kids to bed soon, too."

Kingsley sat back as well. "Sirius, I've been meaning to thank you," he said.

Sirius blinked. "Thank me?" Then he remembered what Remus had said a few nights ago. "Oh, no. No. Please don't say that I changed your…" the others looked at him as he trailed off, horrified.

Kingsley laughed, however. "Sirius, don't worry. I was mostly there on my own. But something you said just clicked. I really meant it when I said you'd be a good-" he cut off and looked at Arthur, who was watching them with a bemused expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"I can leave the room if you like," Arthur suggested.

"No," Sirius said, and then shook himself. "Oh, hell. The word Kingsley was going to say was 'priest.'"

"Priest?" Arthur considered that, eyes wide. "Well, that explains a lot. When this is all over, will you go back to it?"

"No," Sirius said shortly.

Kingsley templed his fingers and looked at him thoughtfully. "I had a thought," he said slowly.

"Why do I get the feeling this is trouble?" Sirius sighed.

"Voldemort and Dumbledore don't exactly account for Sunday morning services," Kingsley said. "It might be nice to form some sort of worship circle."

Sirius stared at him with horror, but Arthur was looking at Kingsley with interest. "You know, it's not a bad idea."

"No," Sirius said flatly.

Remus tried to intervene. "Sirius, you wouldn't have to-"

"No."

"But if you wanted to-" Kingsley began, and Sirius snapped.

"Don't you get it? Don't you all understand? I can't go back! I can not go back to God!"

"Why?" Arthur asked.

"Because I denied God! It would be one thing to not believe anymore, but I can't stop believing! And I hate Him!" Sirius said, pushing his chair back. "If the Catholic Church knew the things I said, I could be excommunicated. God doesn't want me anymore- not after everything I've done and everything I am! A blasphemous, heretical homosexual has no place in the Church, all right? He can't forgive me! He won't forgive me!"

He had risen to his feet, but as the words snapped out of him it left him shaking so hard that Remus had to gently guide him to his seat. A heavy silence stretched over the four of them, and Sirius suddenly realized he wanted nothing more than to cry. To put his head down and cry, and for someone to tell him it would all be okay, that he would be forgiven. But that couldn't happen.

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. "Maybe not a worship, then. But what about something a step removed?"

Kingsley picked up on the thought. "If it was more academic… when we were talking, you told me about faith in a very matter-of-fact manner. Sirius, I'm not asking this for your sake." He suddenly looked very vulnerable, and Sirius finally cottoned on that Kingsley was actually very religious himself. "I'm asking for mine."

"I'd go as well," Arthur said.

"Me, too," Remus said softly. Sirius looked at him, surprised, and Remus smiled grimly. "I know you can't do this alone, but you can do it, Sirius."

"All right," Sirius said. "But don't expect me to be happy about it."

***

"He was interested in you," Remus said later that night, when they lay together in bed.

Sirius picked his head up off Remus's shoulder. "What?"

"I told you if you'd tell me why you didn't want to go back to the priesthood, I'd tell you why I never liked Gabriel," Remus said. "He was interested in you, and you in him. I could tell. And I was insanely jealous."

"Jealous?" Sirius said, looking down at Remus.

Remus shrugged. "It's why I hated him, why I never slept with anyone until after you went to Azkaban, why I slept with you that Christmas. I loved you. I knew I couldn't have you, but I loved you anyway. And so I hated him." He looked at the shocked expression on Sirius's face. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you really hadn't figured it out!"

"You loved me?"

"Yes, you goof."

"You loved me before Azkaban."

Remus's face darkened. "Truth be told, Sirius, I never fully stopped. I wanted to, but I couldn't. No matter what, I've always loved you. And I'm pretty sure I always will."

The words hit something deep within him, and he huddled back against Remus. To be loved like that… by someone he loved in return….

Sirius wept.

***

As agreed, they met two days later in the library. Kingsley looked eager, Arthur looked interested, and Remus looked a little uncomfortable. Sirius hadn't told anyone else about it, and he was fairly sure that none of the others had, either. Which was why he was so surprised when the door opened and George Weasley strolled on in.

"Top of the morning to you all," he said, sitting down.

"George," Arthur began. "This is a… a different sort of discussion. We-"

"I know," George said, brandishing a Bible and a cocky grin. "I kind of overheard you."

"I thought your mother confiscated all of the Extendable Ears," Arthur said.

Sirius hid his smile behind his hand. Not only because of George's attitude, but because he'd helped some of the devices (they really were quite brilliant) survive the purge.

"Dad," George said patiently, "most parents don't chase their kids off from a Bible study group."

"As long as you're going to take it seriously."

"I take it your family doesn't often attend services, Arthur?" Kingsley asked.

"Well, no. I used to, and Molly wanted the kids brought up in the Church, but it never really happened. When you have seven little ones, sleeping in on Sunday becomes a lot more attractive. Plus, we could never agree on which church. My family is Anglican, Molly's is Catholic."

"Well, that explains a lot," George said.

"George," Sirius warned, although he'd been thinking the exact same thing himself.

"What? I'm serious," George said. "I always wondered why we never went."

Arthur narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Why didn't you ask?"

"Don't know. It just seems like an odd thing to ask."

"Funny, isn't it?" Kingsley asked, "how people don't talk about faith? I didn't mention this to anyone, either."

Remus's foot aligned with Sirius's, and he could hear the message loud and clear. "When I began my training at St. John's," he began, the words sounding rusty in his ears, "I didn't tell James or Remus or… or anyone. And it was how I planned on spending my life. Opening yourself up to ridicule is one of the hardest things religion can ask."

"You think that's the hardest?" Kingsley asked, leaning forward. "Even harder than forgiveness or faith?"

"I do," said Sirius, and they were off and running.

***

"But look," Remus said, "I just don't understand. If this was a research journal, we'd never be asked to take something on faith. There would have to be empirical proof. I can understand saying there might be a God. But how can you believe in one without proof?"

"Life isn't a journal," Kingsley argued fervently. "We accept things without solid proof all the time. Example: where's Molly right now?"

"Out shopping."

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes! Maybe I can't get up right this second and go find her, because that would be incredibly rude, but if we searched the markets, she'd be there. We would find her. She'd probably be annoyed as all hell at us, but we can prove that she's out shopping."

"How about the existence of the thestrals, before you could see them?" Arthur asked.

"Bad example," Sirius muttered. "He could always see them."

"No see ems? Or atoms?" George tried. "Something so tiny it's impossible to see them with the eye, but we can deduce their presence in other ways?"

"It's still different. You can find solid proof," Remus insisted.

"I've got one," Sirius said, leaning in. "Did you love James ad Lily?"

"What?" Remus asked, drawing back.

"Did you love James and Lily?"

"You know I did," Remus said, his face serious.

"Prove it," Sirius replied.

Remus opened his mouth, and then closed it. He twisted his fingers in his robes, and began, "Well, I… no. You… wait. I…" He looked startled. "I guess I can't."

"But we all know you did," Sirius said. "Some things just don't need proof."

***

"I'm sorry," Sirius said after George, Arthur, and Kingsley had left the library.

"What for?" Remus asked.

"Putting you on the spot like that, with the faith argument."

"No. It's… it's all right." Remus pulled up a smile. "It was a good argument."

"Thanks. I'm afraid I can't claim credit though. It's from a Muggle book."

"Where'd you get a Muggle book?" Remus asked.

"Hermione made a trip to the library for me. I've read everything in this place."

"Let me guess," Remus said with a smile. "You sat in front of your mother and read that Muggle filth out loud to her."

"No, but I'll do that with the next one. Thanks for the idea!" Sirius chuckled, and the sobered. "But seriously, Moony. I know why you're coming to this group, and I really appreciate it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Remus smiled, but there was something odd and closed about his smile. But all he'd say was, "I'm a big boy, Sirius. I knew what I was getting into, and I can take care of myself."

***

To Sirius's surprise, the discussion groups weren't pure torture. As long as he approached them as academic exercises, they were actually quite interesting. He suspected Remus came in the same mind frame, always willing to play the devil's advocate.

Their little group didn't grow, but that was fine with Sirius. In fact, the only person he even tried mentioning it to was Harry. It was a fine summer night, and they both managed to escape outside for a little bit, into the back courtyard.

"There used to be an apple tree there," Sirius told Harry as they sat on the back steps. "The apples didn't taste very good, but it was perfect for climbing down."

"What happened to it?" Harry asked.

"My father," Sirius spat. "He cut it down after he caught me climbing down it to go play with the Muggle kids."

Harry made a sympathetic face. "I think I'm glad I never met your parents."

"You are. I'm glad you never did, either. There isn't a member of my family you would have liked."

Harry grinned. "Especially since there isn't a member of your family who wouldn't have liked me?"

"Too right," Sirius said. "I hope it gave my dear old mother a heart attack when she heard I was your godfather." Harry laughed, and Sirius looked up in the sky. "About that… I mean, being your godfather."

"What?"

"Well, your mum would kill me if I never asked you this, but did Petunia ever take you to church?"

Harry shrugged. "When I was little, we'd go. But Dudley hated Sunday school. It meant getting up early. So we stopped going. I think the teacher was rather happy, truthfully."

"Do you want to go?" Sirius asked, still looking up at the sky and studiously avoiding Harry's eyes. "Because once this is over, I could take you."

"Nah," Harry said with a shrug. "Not really. Not unless you think my mum would have wanted me to go."

The words brought sharp tears to Sirius's eyes, but he didn't want Harry to see them. He suddenly had an image of Lily up in Heaven, complete with halo, wings, and harp, hexing him because he wasn't pushing her son harder on the issue. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Only if you wanted to, Harry. Besides, I think your mum would strike me down with a lightning bolt if I took you to my church." He seized on that thought eagerly.

"Better not risk her wrath then," Harry agreed.

***

"I should have pushed him," Sirius groaned to Remus later that night. "Lily wouldn't care if I took Harry to a Catholic church. It was all a joke between us, anyway. I mean, she wouldn't have wanted him raised Catholic overall, but if it was a choice between that and her sister…."

"Why didn't you push him?" Remus asked, picking at the rug on the bed.

Sirius sighed heavily. "I don't want to lose him. And evangelical preaching has a tendency to drive people away, not bring them closer to God."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're on better terms with God these days."

Sirius shrugged. "Not really. But I can admit that maybe He's not an all out bastard to everyone. Just to me and to you."

Remus gave Sirius as sad smile. "We are together, you know. That's something."

"Yeah, but hat's because of us, not Him." Sirius yawned and turned back the covers. "You ready for me to get the light?"

"Yeah. Good night, Sirius. I love you."

"I love you, too."

***

"That should do it," Sirius said, wrapping the last Nosebleed Nougat. "If you guys decide this is the right formulation, let me know. I can help you brew up some more. It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"Thanks, mate," Fred said gratefully, neatly piling the sweets into a box. "You've really been a huge help."

Sirius smirked, lazing back in the chair and watching the twins. "Who knows. Maybe after all this is over, you two can give me a job."

"Yeah! Talk about marketing," Fred said. "Get your Skiving Snackboxes, spelled by accused mass murderer Sirius Black!" All three of them laughed. "I can't decide if people would be convinced you poisoned them or come running for the novelty."

"I think we're on to something big," George said.

Fred hefted up the box. "I'll take these upstairs. You coming, George?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

"Right." Fred Apparated away.

"I'm not entirely joking," Sirius said. "After this is all over," he waved his hands vaguely, "or at least once we've convinced Fudge I'm innocent, I'd really like to talk investment possibilities."

George hesitated. "Sirius, I don't know…"

"Why not?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows. "I've seen your products and I read your prospectus. I know you and Fred, and you're both bright, reliable, honest men. I fully expect I'll make a profit on this endeavor, and damn it, I'd like something in my life to turn out like I expect. To the causal businessman, you might be young and unproven, but to me, you two are a safe bet."

"But what about your life?" George asked. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Sirius admitted. "And don't even suggest seminary," he warned as George opened his mouth. George closed it sheepishly. But nothing would keep George Weasley silent for long.

"You do seem to be getting better."

"Getting better?" Sirius asked, amused.

"Yeah, well, when we started a couple months ago, you were always angry at the beginning of each discussion. But now, you come in a lot less angry. And you're always the one with the interpretation."

"Really," Sirius drawled.

George shrugged. "Just telling you what I see."

***

"Am I getting better?" Sirius asked Remus later that night.

He expected Remus to question what he meant. But Remus just nodded.

"Yes," he said. "You are."

That was an answer that took him totally off guard.

***

The kids left the next morning. Sirius gleefully snuck along, not worrying in the least about getting caught. Just being out of the house and in the sunshine again… he suddenly had an intense longing to be back in Morocco.

The longing only increased after they returned, and Remus had to leave. Even knowing that Remus was going to that maniac Fenrir Greyback couldn't stifle Sirius's envy as Remus stepped out of the house and into the early autumn sunshine. A gust of wind swept a flurry of leaves behind him, and it seemed like an exclamation point on his departure.

And to add insult to injury, the Weasleys were leaving the next morning.

"We'll be back for Order meetings," Molly said anxiously. "And we'll make sure you have whatever you need."

"I know," Sirius said glumly. "I'll be fine, Molly. Really. Prisons are generally pretty well guarded."

"Don't talk like that," Molly pleaded.

"Sorry." Sirius picked up a napkin and twirled it around her fingers.

"I'd better go finish packing," Molly said, and she hurried out the door.

"She's still walking on eggshells around me," Sirius said. "Since the night Harry came. Tell her to stop it."

"She will," Arthur said. "She just needs this visit to end. Even if we were to come back next week, she'd be okay."

"I see," Sirius said, even though he didn't.

"She's a little wary of our Bible group, too," Arthur continued.

Sirius sat up straight. "You told her?"

Arthur regarded him with amusement. "First of all, she's my wife. Second of all, it's a Bible group, not a hard core porn ring. Of course I told her. Didn't we go over this the first time we met?"

"Yeah, well." Sirius crossed his arms. "What did she say?"

"She was surprised. But I actually really wanted to say thank you." Sirius shrugged and started to say it was nothing, but Arthur held up a hand. "It's not what you think. It's just… this group. It was the first time George and I have shared anything like this. We don't talk about it much, but it's been good."

"I'm glad," Sirius said. "But it wasn't me that did that. It was the two of you."

"Maybe. But thank you anyway."

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and left to help his wife, and Sirius sat on in the kitchen, staring into the fire.

***

Sirius lay in bed that night, listening the creak of the empty house. It wasn't the first night he'd spent here alone, but it was the first night since the Weasleys had come. The lack of their life and fire and laughter only served to emphasize how quiet and grim his childhood home really was.

He shuddered and turned over, embracing Remus's pillow. The faint smell of Remus's shampoo still lingered, and he pulled the pillow closer to him. It wasn't as if Remus was there, of course, but it was a reminder- a reminder he desperately needed.

"Help me get through this," he whispered out loud. "And please, keep him safe." He closed his eyes.

He didn't think of it that way, but it was the first time he'd prayed since he left Azkaban.

***

The days ticked by. They were solitary, useless days broken only by short visits from Remus and the occasional communication with Harry, and the all-too-infrequent appearance of Order members, most of whom felt like strangers. Sirius hated it.

His temper grew short and he grew restless, spending more time with Buckbeak and snapping at Kreacher, because he needed someplace to find some sort of comfort and to vent his misery. Neither helped.

Finally, out of sheer desperation, he picked up his Bible again.

He would swear it didn't help. But he read it from cover to cover.

***

Every now and then, members of the Order would pop by. They would meet, discuss plans, and for a shining hour or two, Sirius would almost feel alive.

But then he would remember he couldn't help in any of those plans. He'd remember Remus was in constant danger, Harry was being watched, and it felt like there was no real hope anywhere. When the Order left, reality crashed on him hard.

"How are you doing, Sirius?" Kingsley asked him one night.

Sirius stared at him. Not because the question was so out of the ordinary, but because Kingsley was one of the few people that saw him long enough to ask it and really seemed to care.

"I don't know," Sirius said. "All right, I guess."

Kingsley sighed. "You know," he said eventually, "I miss our group."

"Yeah, me too." A long ago thought struck him. "You know, I could really use that miracle you one said you could show me."

"Really?" Kingsley looked interested.

"What, you have one?" Sirius laughed. "I always figured you were joking."

"No, I have one. Like I said, I did my research on you."

"Oh."

"Do you want it?" Kingsley prompted.

"Well, I…"

Kingsley dug in his pockets and took out a piece of paper and handed it to Sirius. Sirius looked at him, baffled. "You carry it around with you?"

"I didn't want to miss the chance."

"Whatever." But he didn't turn the paper over.

Kingsley smiled. "Look at it when I'm gone. Take care, Sirius. I'll see you soon."

Sirius waited until he was gone and he was alone in the oppressing darkness again, and then turned it over.

It was a picture of him and Remus, taken this past summer. They were sitting together on the couch, pulling faces at the camera. They looked relaxed, comfortable, and happy, and Sirius could see that his own skin was still slightly sunburned from the time they'd spent at Remus's cottage.

Underneath the picture, in bold script, Kingsley had written, "He believed you. He forgives you. And he loves you."

Sirius's legs crumpled beneath him, and his eyes welled with tears that didn't fall. He sank to the dusty carpet, clutching at the picture and its message.

He believed you. He forgives you. And he loves you.

The words applied to Remus. The words could also mean Harry. And Sirius knew that Kingsley meant them to imply God.

Miracles, indeed.

***

Sirius was eating a late meal by the light of a candle when it happened. "Sirius," Phineas Nigellus sing-songed.

Sirius looked up irritably. "What?" he snapped at the portrait.

"You have company coming."

Sirius jerked himself to attention. Fortunately, he was still clothed, but that was about the best he could say. He hadn't bothered to shave, his hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkled, and there was a pile of dishes on the table. "Tell them to go away," he groaned.

But Phineas almost looked concerned. "Weasley's been injured," he sniffed.

That got Sirius's attention. "Which one?"

"Arthur, I believe."

"Shit." Sirius flew off the couch. "Are they bringing him here?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Phineas complained. "All I know is Dumbledore wants those rambunctious children here again before That Woman interferes. As if this house needs the noise. Why, when I was Headmaster, children knew how to behave. I never would have tolerated-" But Sirius didn't listen. Instead, he jumped to his feet and ran down to the kitchen basement, just in time to see the Weasleys and Harry appear via Portkey.

Kreacher was there as well, spouting his usual venom. "Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying…?"

The words cut across his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. "OUT!" he thundered at Kreacher, taking pleasure at seeing the miserable thing cower. But there was no time for that. "What's going on?" he asked, taking Ginny's hand and helping her to her feet. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured-"

"Ask Harry," said Fred.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself."

They all looked at Harry. Sirius, whose heart was already pounding in fear for Arthur, thought for a moment it was going to give out. But while Harry looked shaken and scared, he also looked whole.

"It was… I had a… a kind of vision…" Harry began. "There was a snake. And he was moving through metal bars and then across stone, and down a corridor. And then he attacked a man sitting in a chair- I mean, he just reared back and attacked. And the man did try to defend himself, but the snake was too quick. Then I woke up and realized it was Mr. Weasley."

Sirius listened to the whole thing with concern. It sounded crazy, yes, but he'd seen Harry in enough stressful situations to trust his judgment. And Arthur was guarding the prophecy tonight, which matched Harry's description perfectly. Harry meant this.

Fred startled him out of his thoughts. "Is Mum here?"

"She probably doesn't even know what happened yet," Sirius admitted. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now." Come on, Arthur, he thought silently. You'd better pull through this. I don't want to be telling your kids you're dead.

"We've got to get to St. Mungo's," Ginny said. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything-"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!" The words ripped out of Sirius, much to his surprise. But they made sense.

"'Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," Fred insisted. "He's our dad!"

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?" Sirius demanded.

"What does that matter?" George demanded, and it wasn't so much the words but the source that pushed Sirius's temper.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away! Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

He couldn't look at Harry, or Ginny, or Ron, or even Fred. Only George, whom he wanted to shout, "You're an adult, damn it!" But some little voice- a little voice he hadn't heard in a long time- whispered a reminder that George wasn't an adult. He told it to shut the fuck up.

Ginny tried anyway. "Somebody else could have told us… We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry…."

"Like who?" Sirius asked impatiently. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!" shouted Fred.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George said, his voice breaking.

"Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order! This is how it is- this is why you're not in the Order- you don't understand- there are things worth dying for!"

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" bellowed Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

The words were like a spark to kindling, and behind his eyes Sirius saw everything he'd sacrificed to defeat Voldemort. He'd lost friends. He'd lost Harry. He'd lost years of his life, locked in the torture that was Azkaban. He'd lost his freedom, then and now. He'd lost his dreams. He'd lost his faith. He'd nearly lost his soul. Dying would be easy compared to what he'd lost.

He's scared. He's hurting. He's a child. The words cut through the maelstrom of his thoughts, clear and washing over him, leaving him cold. He took a deep breath, and then another. "I know it's hard," he heard himself saying, and somehow he knew it would work, "but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"

Ginny sat down first, and then Ron and Harry. Finally, the twins sat down, and Sirius breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's right," he said. "Come on. Let's all…" he cut himself off in shock right before he said the word pray. "Let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!"

The Weasleys drank in silence, which was fine with Sirius. His own hands were trembling, and he was very glad none of the children were paying attention to him. Let him be all right. Let him be all right. Please, please, please God. He's a good man. Don't fuck his life up, too. Let him be all right. The words ran through his head on a loop that fumbled only when he looked at Harry, and his mind whispered thanks for Harry's safety.

***

The night stretched out, long and tense and silent. At one point, Sirius lifted his eyes and managed to catch George's. But George was still too upset for any sort of silent communion. He bowed his head again in acknowledgement.

***

But then the owl came, telling them that Arthur was still alive. It only worsened the children's tension, because now they could really imagine the worst, and they were powerless to stop it. He wanted to tell them it would all be okay, but he didn't want to lie to them either.

There was no comfort he could give, and that burned him up as much as being powerless in this house.

***

It was Molly who brought them all deliverance the next morning, when she came with the dawn and the good news that Arthur was safe and recovering. Sirius's soul bounded up and wagged his tail at the news. He closed his eyes and whispered a quiet, "Thank you."

He wasn't surprised when he saw George do the same.

***

Sirius felt guilty for being grateful that Arthur was in the hospital, but it did mean the Weasley family would stay for Christmas. It was the first Christmas Sirius could truly celebrate since… since 1980. And that Christmas was… well…. They might not be able to recreate it, but at least Remus was here to share the Christmas with him.

No one could give him what he truly wanted, of course, but people tried. Harry gave him a book on motorbikes. Molly knit him a sweater with a dog on it. (Sirius didn't think he'd actually wear it, but he appreciated the thought.) Remus gave him small weaving from Morocco, which conjured up very pleasant memories indeed. But more than that, Sirius felt a part of the world and a family, and that was the greatest gift of all.

Until George, Arthur, and Kingsley caught him and Remus relaxing in the library.

"We have something for you," George said, his smile mischievous.

"Should I run or duck for cover?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

George laughed, and then handed Sirius a package. "We all know you never got the chance to get your collar before," he said. "So we thought we'd give you one now."

Sirius gave them all a quizzical look and then opened the package and burst into laughter. He took out the black dragon leather dog collar. "This is the last thing I expected," he said, and undid the buckle. He put it on, and Remus helped him fasten it. "Well?" he asked, "do I look Catholic?"

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," George laughed. "Come on, Dad. You'd better get back to bed or Mum will have both our hides."

"Merry Christmas," Kingsley told them both, and left the room behind the Weasleys.

Sirius turned to Remus. "Did you know anything about this?"

"No," Remus said, smiling. "This has George Weasley written all over it."

"It does." Sirius fingered the collar.

"I'm surprised you put it on."

"Too good a joke not to."

"Do you want me to help you take it off?"

Sirius considered. "No," he said finally. "I think I'll leave it where it is."

Remus smiled and kissed him softly. "I'm glad," he whispered. "I really am."

"I'm not making any statements, you know," Sirius said.

But Remus touched Sirius's cheek, and when his fingers drew away, a single tear glistened on them.

***

EPILOGUE

The kids were back at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's care. Kreacher wasn't muttering, and Mrs. Black's portrait was unusually silent. Most of the Order had gone home.

Arthur, Kingsley, Remus and George hadn't planned to meet. But somehow, they all found themselves in the library. George claimed he'd left a box of fireworks in there, Kingsley needed a book for his work, and Arthur had mislaid his glasses (they were on his head). Only Remus didn't make an excuse; he and Sirius had spent so much time in here that his spirit seemed to linger.

They stood looking at each other awkwardly. It felt like there was a giant hole in the circle, and they all ached for it.

"There should be a funeral," George said. "Or at least a wake. Or a memorial service. Or something."

"I guess that's why we're here," Arthur said quietly.

The awkward silence descended again, because none of them knew how to begin. George, Arthur, and Kingsley all felt Remus should be able to say something first, and Remus couldn't speak around the lump in his throat.

When the silence stretched too long, Kingsley began to sing.

The song was "Amazing Grace", and his voice was gentle and deep. After a few lines, George and then Arthur picked up the melody, George even managing a crude harmony. Kingsley managed to scroll the words so they could follow past the first verse. Finally, Remus joined in. But when they reached the verse

"Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace,"

Remus began to laugh. The song frayed into discord as the others stared at him. And then George joined in.

"The veil," he whispered. "Tell me those words were made up."

Kingsley chuckled. "They aren't. I swear to God, that's the way the song goes."

The tension drained from the room, leaving them only with their grief and their memories. Remus sank down to sit on the sofa, and Kingsley sat on the desk. George stretched out on the floor. Arthur summoned a bottle of wine and five glasses, and poured them each one, leaving the last one in front of the seat where Sirius would have sat.

"To Sirius," Arthur said, holding up his glass, and the others echoed. Then he took off his glasses and laid them aside. They all sat in silence, respectful and sad and loving.. Then finally, it was Remus's voice that said,

"Let us pray."

End Notes:

1.) Yes, the talking in theaters deserves its own level in Hell is a reference to Shepherd Book's line in Firefly. Especially since he's right.

2.) The setting of the scene where Remus tells Sirius Harry's coming the next day is written with