Author: rustysilverlining PM
This is my first fan fic, so bear with me. Sirius was my favorite character, and I couldn't stomach his death- partly because it didn't make sense to me. So I wrote a piece where he had been pulled back from behind the veil and gotten to live his life... but I guess it wasn't so easy to give him a happy ending. So here it is! Please comment/review- I want to know what you think!Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Sirius B. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,684 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Updated: 06-17-12 - Published: 06-16-12 - id: 8225026
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Once upon a time, Lily, your father was young." Elise looked around briefly before smiling. "And devastatingly handsome."
"Once?"Sirius laughed, ducking into the kitchen. "Oh no, I think you must be mistaken about something.
Lily laughed and clapped her hands together as her father ruffled her short brown hair. Elise scowled, but her eyes were still dancing.
"Oh, no you don't," she said, slipping out of Sirius's reach as he went to kiss her. "Eavesdroppers—"
"Often hear very informative things. Ask the Weasley boys if you doubt me. I can't tell you how much they heard about the Order back before they were old enough."
Elise's smile dropped, and Sirius realized his mistake a little too late. "I'm sorry, Lis—I forget, sometimes." He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head lightly. Lily was looking in their direction, her pretty blue eyes wide with worry. Sirius smiled encouragingly and nodded towards the living room; the toddler obeyed immediately, slipping off of her big girl chair and waddling out of the room.
"Smart kid," Sirius murmured, turning back to his wife. Her arms were tight around him, head nestled against his chest. He stroked her hair, planting a light kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he said quietly. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that Fred—the boy who'd shared his plans for success, who'd taken up Sirius's old map, who'd been so like him, sometimes—was gone. It seemed like it had only been a matter of days since he'd last seen Fred… and then he was dead.
The thought was a sad one, of course, but for Sirius it was an impersonal sadness. Fred had been a good kid with a lot of potential, but he was not a friend and certainly not family. For Elise, his death had been devastating… especially when paired with so many others.
Sirius's face darkened and he buried it in Elise's hair, breathing the sweet scent of her shampoo and reassuring himself of her warmth, closeness, and life. That was where it became personal—the others, always the others. He'd been gone—he'd been lost behind the veil for too long. And while he was gone, wandering… how many had they lost? Dumbledore—that alone had sent him reeling when he heard. And Fred… Remus…
Remus. A father. Sirius had always teased him about that. He was destined for fatherhood, that much had always been clear. And now Harry—Harry! Who had been nothing but a teenager when Sirius had left—was raising Teddy along with two of his own, and more on the way. Because Remus was dead. He'd died that last night, fighting the last fight alongside the woman he'd fallen in love with…
Sirius had missed that. All of it. His oldest, dearest friend had finally fallen in love. He'd married. Had a child. Sirius hadn't been there to laugh at the wedding, to hold the child, to tease the groom and father-to-be… he hadn't been there when Remus died. Had someone avenged his death? Had someone been with him, to make sure…
Elise shifted in Sirius's arms, leaning back to get a good look at his face. His grip had tightened, and, of course, she had noticed. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but concern for him overwhelmed her own grief. "Sirius?" She reached one hand up to touch his cheek.
He caught the hand and kissed it lightly, smiling at her. "Don't worry, Elise. I'm still here."
She returned the smile, but her eyes were still dark—wary. He smothered a grimace, knowing what she must think—what he had caused her to think—and hating himself for the validity of the worry.
For years, the drifting had been a problem… for days at a time, sometimes even weeks, something flipped a switch in his mind and it was like he had flown back ten years. Or sometimes more. He would wander around the house, trying to find Harry, addressing their cat as Buckbeak, and playing Gobstones with friends long dead. Usually after a long period of trying in vain to bring him back to himself, Elise would finally have to call Harry over—loathe though she was to burden him—and he'd walk with Sirius and explain everything over again, patiently, kindly.
That was always terrible, that remembering… that coming back. While he drifted, Sirius was back with the Order, back in the fight, the person he remembered himself to be. Sometimes—times he dared not think about, dared not consider or dwell on—he was back at Hogwarts with James and Remus and Peter, happy again. And when he came back, whether it was Harry's voice that brought him or Elise's touch or little Lily's tears, he lost them all again. The Marauders were dead now. His friends, his family… his fight. He lost the people dearest to him when he came back, and there was always the look on Elise's face—the fear that she was losing him—that wrenched at his heart and made him feel guiltier than he ever remembered feeling. Because every time he left, he hurt her… and a part of him didn't always want to come back.
There were other times that were worse. Times when he drifted to Azkaban, screaming and crying and moaning, confined to a bed in a special room that Elise had been forced to set up so that she and Lily could sleep in peace while they waited for him to come back to them. But she slept with him even on those nights, and sometimes that brought him back; there had been no warmth in Azkaban, and her presence shattered the delusion.
But there was something worse than Azkaban—worse for both of them. Sometimes he drifted back behind the veil, and then there was no way to force him out. He'd simply lie in his separate room, murmuring to himself, just drifting… remembering nothing when he finally returned, simply waking alone and finding days gone by.
Years had gone by behind the veil. But nothing had changed for him, in all that time. When he'd been pulled from the veil, he had been convinced nothing had changed for the world, either…