Not So Similar After All

People see them, Sirius and James, as two parts of a whole. He can't blame them for that, he supposes. United front and all that what not, right? They seem so similar. The dark haired pureblood boys, mischievous smiles constantly adorning their charming faces.

But Sirius knows they are not the same.

James doesn't understand pain, not the way he does. He doesn't understand the heartbreaking pain that comes from trying over and over again to win approval that will never come. He doesn't understand the constant ache of being hated by the ones who are supposed to love you most. He doesn't understand the pain of loving someone who loathes you, of trying to protect that someone and receiving nothing but disdain in response.

No, James doesn't understand pain. But that isn't what sets them apart. Or, at least, not the biggest thing.

Because James Potter has never been afraid to declared his love for Lily Evans as loudly as possible, as often as possible, and to anyone willing to listen. James informs the Marauders, each one of them, that he loves them. At least once a month, they listen to James declare that they are his second family.

Sirius has never said the words. Those three little words. So innocuous. Yet not once have they escaped his mouth.

And how simple it would be, to take the easy way out. Blame his family. Because it's true, they've never really allowed love to flourish at home. But it isn't that Sirius doesn't know how to love; he does. And it isn't that he doesn't know that this is love; he does. Still, the words never seem to make it past his lips.

These boys are his brothers. And he can tell them that with ease, but when it comes to those three words, he clams up.

Is it fear? he wonders. Yet that doesn't feel quite right.

Paranoia? It has been known to run in the family.

Disbelief? That seems to come closest. He still doesn't know how to accept that these people are his family. He never deserved them. Yet they welcome him in a way his true family never did.

So why can't he say those words? Eight simple letters.


And now it's too late. The despair reminds him, time and time again, that he's lost his chance. That the only Marauder left (because Peter doesn't count anymore) hates him now. And Sirius can't blame him for that.

It's his own stupidity at fault, really. For suspecting Remus in the first place. For not suspecting Peter.

As if the Animagus form wasn't hint enough.

But that was why they had chosen him, after all. He was overlooked, forgotten.

Unsuspected.

Worthless little traitor.

But now James is gone. And Peter doesn't deserve it. And Remus will never hear it.


An: Not so sure where this one came from. Especially the beginning, I wasn't expecting that at all.

I do so love messing with grammar rules though. So yes, the fragments are on purpose. I apologize if they bother you (though I'm shocked you got this far if they do).

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