The Pretenders

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. Certainly not to me.

Rating: PG. Sirius may occasionally curse…it would be just like him.

Pairing: Amara Vector/Sirius Black

Summary: Remus is originally thought to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper, leaving Sirius a free man and Harry's guardian after Wormtail's betrayal. He adopts Harry as his own and hopes to go on living peacefully forever. But when the Philosopher's Stone is stolen before Harry enters Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dumbledore sends three of his most trusted members of the Order of the Phoenix: Sirius Black, Professor Amara Vector and Severus Snape to retrieve and destroy all of the Horcruxes before Voldemort can use them to return.

Author's Note: If you haven't read Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, this story probably won't make much sense, and there will be a relatively large spoiler. Please come back after completing the novel…which is amazing, by the way.

Chapter 1- A Black Hero

23 October, 1980

London, The Ministry of Magic

The large auditorium, located deep under London in the Ministry of Magic, had been transformed drastically. Normally a sombre and forbidding room, its most frequent use was for the trial of dangerous criminals, which nine times out of ten were captured Death Eaters or soldiers of He Who Must Not Be Named in these dark days. A room that was used to playing host to witches and wizards waiting with bated breath and muttering threateningly under their breath seemed almost crowded and claustrophobic in the present atmosphere. The grey, stone walls were covered in bright fabric and plastered with posters of a handsome wizard with glossy, shoulder length black hair, striking features and laughing grey eyes. He wore what was referred to as his trademark smirk and seemed to be genuinely pleased to be present. The damp floors were covered in plush carpet and the stone benches had been transfigured into hundreds of folding chairs. At the front of the room, where Bartemius Crouch, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, usually presided judgment over dark wizards, had been changed from a simple judge's bench into a full fledged, complete with rich red and gold curtains. At the present time, nothing adorned the stage except a large, mahogany pulpit.

That was not to say that the room was empty. Every seat was full of wizards and witches (a great deal more than normal), all chattering excitedly. Called here today to celebrate the victories of one of the few heroes in the war against You-Know-Who, the wizards had let down their guard and left their sorrows in the back of their minds for a short time. Nearest to the stage were a slew of reporters, from The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Teen Witch, even The Quibbler had sent a representative. Most of the reporters had brought along professional photographers, who were pushing their way against the crowd, struggling to set up their overlarge cameras in the perfect position. All cameras were focused on the podium. The reporters had their Quick-Quote pens ready and were even more excited than the numerous females in the crowds.

Only one person in the entire room looked distinctively unhappy. But as the great crowd could not see him at the moment, this bothered no one. Sirius Black was peeking out between the heavy curtains, looking at the horde of reporters and wizards with what could only be called undisguised horror. "Padfoot!" called a friendly voice from behind. "Get back from there. You don't want to ruin your big entrance."

Sirius let the curtains drop and turned to face his dearest friend, James Potter. James was lounging calmly against the back wall of the temporary theatre. His black hair was as messy as ever and falling into his hazel eyes, magnified slightly by his round glasses. "Why did I let you and Dumbledore con me into this, again?" Sirius grumbled.

"I believe you fell for the old 'showing off an Order member will be a good morale booster for everyone,'" James answered quickly, winking merrily at his best friend.

"What a load of crap," Sirius hissed, looking none too pleased. "I would be much better use helping the Fawcetts on the raid of Dolohov's manor in Germany."

"Probably," admitted James. "But the wizarding public needs to be reminded their handsome Auror hero is still fighting the good fight."

"And holding press conferences in his spare time," Sirius sighed heavily. "Why don't they want to see you? You're an Auror…and higher up in the ranking than me. Or, better yet, Dumbledore! The man leading the good fight!"

"The only reason I'm higher than you is you're more interested in going off on Order business and raids than actually working for the Ministry. Besides, I'm not half as good-looking as you, which you know damn well. And if you think Dumbledore has time to hold a press conference, why don't you suggest it to him?"

Sirius tried to imagine the look Dumbledore would shoot him if he even alluded to Dumbledore granting a mass interview. For one of the first times, Sirius was sure even his over-active imagination fell well short of the mark. "Point taken," he conceded. "I just hope this doesn't take too long."

"That makes two of us," James agreed. "Lily's making a pot roast."

Sirius' stomach growled at the mention of food. "Merlin, I'm hungry."

"I told you to eat lunch, Padfoot," James chided him, straightening Sirius' tie. Sirius had adopted the clothes he normally wore on missions; dark slacks, a white dress shirt, black vest, red and gold tie, and black overcoat. His wand was sheathed in a specially made scabbard at his side and his dark hair was tied back in a long ponytail at the nape of his neck with a red ribbon. He had gone through many versions of his 'battle armour.' Many of his fellow Order members scoffed, calling it too dressy and asking him what was wrong with robes. But he found the clothes gave him more mobility and made him look impressive- and in both accounts he was correct.

"I did eat lunch, Prongs," Sirius said hotly. "But that was four hours ago, and I'm hungry again."

"Typical," James rolled his eyes.

Before Sirius could reply sharply, Bartemius Crouch, Alastor Moody and the Minister for Magic himself, Millicent Bagnold, joined them. "Well, well, getting nervous for your big interview, I expect, Black?" Bagnold greeted jovially. The Minister had always been kind to Sirius, especially after he entered a special training program under the Head of Aurors, Alastor Moody. Even at his young age, it was whispered loudly that Sirius would be next Head of the Auror Department after Moody retired. Sirius didn't give heed to such nonsense. His only concern was if he would be alive sometime next week.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he answered, not bothering to infuse any sort of enthusiasm into his tone.

Moody chuckled dryly. "I reckon you'd rather be elsewhere, laddie," he observed in his hoarse growl. "And I can't say as I blame you. Damn stupid idea. Dumbledore wanted you on that raid with the Fawcetts."

Bagnold cleared his throat loudly, not looking quite as cheerful. "But, unfortunately, Sirius here works for the Ministry, not Albus Dumbledore. And I'm sure he will find his time spent more enjoyably here this evening." He turned a kindly eye on Sirius. "I requested you, specifically for this little shin-ding, you know. You've been working hard for the Ministry and I knew you would appreciate the break."

Sirius eyed the Minister with undisguised distaste. "With all due respect, sir," he said, very little trace of respect in his tones. "My job is to make sure these people wake up in the morning, not to raise their spirits. So I would ask that next time you want to throw a little party…you invite the Weird Sisters. Not me."

Sirius could almost feel James wincing. Since marrying Lily, James had leaned more towards the confinements of good society. He had a family to take care of and had learned to show respect where it was required. But Sirius would ever retain that one tale tell sign of his heritage. He gave respect only where it was deserved, and did not care whom he stepped on, as long as his point was made clear.

James was the only one of the company who showed any signs of disapproval. Moody wore a proud smile for his protégé and Crouch was nodding feverishly, a passion kindled in his dark eyes. "Black is absolutely right," he spoke up for the first time. "Our time would be much better spent bringing these dark wizards to justice. They must pay for what they have done to our society! We cannot waste our time cajoling with the public at conferences and press events!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow in James' direction and there was a glitter in his friend's eyes that Sirius could interpret easily enough. James and he were of one mind on Crouch's so-called 'justice.' No matter how terrible a battle, no matter how often Crouch upbraided them for it, James and Sirius both flat out refused to use the Unforgivable Curses against Death Eaters. Moody looked about to speak up and snarl some sort of reproach at Crouch, but the man continued in his frantic voice. "The Dark Lord is a terrible enemy and must be brought up short! He has no bounds- threatening our most prominent families, no matter what their backgrounds- Muggleborns or Purebloods. He must be stopped!"

"Would you be so quick to stop him if he only threatened Muggleborns?" Moody inquired in a conversation tone, but leaving no one in doubt of the threat concealed therein.

Crouch's tirade was brought short and he fell silent, looking insulted, but perhaps a little abashed. "Well, well, well…" Bagnold rushed into cover up the awkward moment. "I think we've kept them waiting long enough. I'll go introduce you all, shall I?"

Sirius nodded briefly and Moody grunted. Crouch was still holding on to his stony silence, and James had, to Sirius' bewilderment, suddenly become very closemouthed and pale faced. Bagnold bustled off through the curtains to the greeting of loud applause. The four men, all prominent figures in the fight against He Who Must Not Be Named, stood in silence, unable to make small talk. Sirius amused himself with idle reflections. He had stood with these men in numerous battles that appeared hopeless, trusting his life in their hands. They had spent many late nights devising strategies to fool or defeat Voldemort. Yet in situations such as these, they could not even force a conversation.

"We thank you all for coming, and even more for your patience," Bagnold was saying in his blustery voice. "We are entertaining four very important soldiers in the ongoing battle against He Who Must Not Be Named here this evening, one of whom has volunteered to answer any of the questions put forward. I know you're all eager to meet them, so let us begin."

"First, I ask you to welcome, our Head of Magical Law Enforcement Department, and a man whose determination and passion is unrivalled when it comes to the capturing and punishment of Death Eaters and all dark wizards, Mr. Bartemius Crouch."

There was exuberant clapping as Crouch stepped out on to the stage. Despite his somewhat questionable methods, the wizarding community adored the older wizard. Sirius would be willing to bet when Bagnold's term ended in a year, Crouch would become the next Minister for Magic.

"Absolute nutcase," growled Moody, peering out the curtains. "The day he takes rein of this country, is the day it goes straight to the dogs."

"That's not nice!" Sirius chided, sharing conspiratorial glances with James. Few people knew that Sirius, James and their other friend Peter Pettigrew were unregistered Animagus. As it just so happened, Sirius' beast counterpart was a large shaggy mutt.

Moody raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Thought you hated him as much as I do?"

"I don't hate him," Sirius disagreed. "I just severely disagree with his methods."

Moody snorted derisively, then stomped out on to stage, his wooden leg echoing ominously. There was scattered applause, but Sirius knew this wouldn't offend his mentor in anyway. No one in the wizarding world was quite sure what to make of the Head of Auror department, and Alastor Moody liked it that way.

As Bagnold began listing off James' many qualifications, Sirius turned to his old friend. He was disturbed to see James looking just as off-colour as before. "What's the matter, Prongs?"

"Nothing," James said hastily.

"James, if I just met you I'd know something was wrong," Sirius drawled. "You went off colour the minute Crouch started banging on about Voldemort threatening our families and how we have to bring everyone to justice."

"Its nothing," James repeated more firmly.

"Bull," Sirius persisted. "What is…"

"…James Potter!" Bagnold's voice broke into their conversation. James sprang forward, clearly eager to escape Sirius' questions. He left Sirius alone in the dark of the backstage, having nothing to do but listen to his praises being sung by the Minister for Magic.

"Our last guest, and the honoured one of this evening's gathering, has risen quickly through the ranks of our Auror division under the private tutelage of the aforementioned Alastor Moody. He is a powerful wizard, rising out of a family full of Dark Wizards to become one of the sharpest thorns in the foot of He Who Must Not Be Named." Sirius' mouth tightened, as any mention of the Black household was sure to do to him. "He is also a prominent member in the Order of the Phoenix, the famous defence league set up by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"His most famous accomplishments are the capture of Daniel Petersburg and Elizabeth Markle, the rescue of the Argoril family and his infamous break-in to one of You-Know-Who's strongest forts to recover precious Ministry documents the Dark Lord obtained through treachery. Ladies and gentleman, I give you, the man of this hour and many more to come, Sirius Black!"

Reluctance in every bone, Sirius managed to produce the smile mirrored by all of the posters of him plastering the walls and stepped on to the stage. The audience leapt to their feet, applauding and hollering. The cameras flashed madly, almost blinding the wizards on the stage. Bagnold moved back from the pulpit, allowing Sirius to rest his elbows lazily on its desk. The noise continued for some time, and Sirius resisted the urge to scream at those worshipful faces staring up at him. What he did wasn't glorious. He didn't deserve their praise and adoration for managing to avoid death one more time. The men who had fallen, his comrades in arms should be the ones they were screaming for- men who had given their very lives to a cause. But instead Sirius remained, shouldered with the weight of the credit of all of their great deeds.

When the noise did finally die, Sirius blinked around, momentarily unsure of what he was supposed to do next. Fortunately, the many reporters and female fans were quick to bombard him with questions, coming so quickly he hadn't a hope of catching any of them. A professional looking witch from the Ministry stood and held up her hands. Her voice, magnified by the Sonorus charm, echoed over top of the shouted questions. "Please raise your wands if you have a question for, Mr. Black," she ordered. "When I point at you, you may ask your question in a clear voice. Use the Sonorus charm if you have a quiet voice." The auditorium quieted down, and, to Sirius' well-concealed disappointment, almost every wand shot up.

The Ministry official pointed to one of the reporters. "Mr. Black, is it true that you refuse to kill Death Eaters?"

Sirius relaxed, he had been ready for this one. "Not exactly," he responded. "If my life or one of co-workers' lives were in danger and a death curse seemed to me the only way out of the situation, I would take the necessary measures. But, I think I would regret it. How can we point fingers at Voldemort's followers if we are willing to take the same measures? We have only sunk to their level and are no longer fighting for a cause." There was quite a bit of tittering in the crowd when Sirius boldly said Voldemort's name. It was already becoming one normal, civilized people avoided speaking. But Sirius had never claimed to be normal or civilized.

"Are you suggesting some Ministry officials have sunk to the level of He Who Must Not Be Named's supporters?"

"No," Sirius said promptly. "I just believe that certain officials and myself have very different belief systems. Which is perfectly acceptable if both parties are able to work together despite their differences." The words sounded empty to Sirius, even as he said them. He wondered briefly if the entire auditorium was thinking about the insincerity of his words.

The official pointed next to a young male wearing a Tornadoes badge. "I read you played Beater for your house team in Quidditch? Any plans to go pro?"

Sirius grinned. "Definitely not," he answered. "I get quite enough of hitting people during my day job. Though, James Potter was a very useful Chaser on the same team." He nodded in James' direction, hoping to merit a smile from his best friend. Unsuccessful.

The next question was directed from an older woman with a pleasant face. "Is it true you were named godfather to the son of James and Lily Potter?"

"Yeah," grinned Sirius, talk of his godson, Harry, cheering him up, as usual. "He's an amazing little guy. He's barely a year old and he already recognizes me. James and Lily are amazing parents, so I get to come in and be the cool one he messes around with." 'And by 'mess around' I mean, gives him rides on my back as a dog,' he added mentally.

A ridiculously pretty girl was the next questioner. "Are you dating anyone right now?"

Sirius shot her one of his most charming grins. "Not particularly," he answered. "What about you?"

"No," she answered, grinning.

"Floo me," he said with a wink. She blushed madly and several of her friends hooted and hollered. The crowd gave a few good-natured laughs.

"How do you feel the war against He Who Must Not Be Named is progressing?" asked a stern looking wizard from the press.

Sirius hesitated before answering, choosing his words carefully. "Obviously, its not going as well as we could wish, simply because it is still in existence," he replied. "Many excellent wizards and witches have been lost, and they will be forever missed and remembered as the brave souls and innocent victims who came too close to Voldemort. There are certain…setbacks…we are trying to cope with. We have not yet reached the point of desperation where we stand together against a threat no matter what our opinions. We are still arguing about who gets the credit, or the blame. And that is ridiculous."

"I wish that I could gloss this over for you, but doing that would achieve nothing. It is so essential that every member of our community understand that we are not on the winning side at the moment. And one of the main reasons for this, is Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and strife amongst families, loved ones and allies. Only after we are able to beat him at his own game…to move past his petty tricks and shadow games, can we make a real stand at winning this war."

The room was filled with the scratching of quills as reporters hastily took down his quote. He almost regretted answering it so fully. He would be reading that quote for many years to come, unless he was sorely mistaken. When reporters and journalists indicated they were prepared for another question, Sirius was almost positive the next question would involve verification of his rambling. Which was possibly why it caught him by surprise.

"You were raised by a family who have produced copious amounts of Dark wizards through out the centuries. To leave that life and protection, as well as fortune and inheritance, behind must have been very difficult. What made you decide to abandon your family's roots?"

Sirius' felt his eyebrows rise in disbelief. The speaker was relatively young, though older than he himself. She wore her hair in tight golden ringlets, had a very hard face and mannish hands. Her Quick Quotes Quill was an acid green and was still zooming across her notebook, though Sirius had said nothing. "I left home when I was sixteen," he said, his tone rather chilly. "I never looked back, really. I was sick of their pureblood nonsense and radical ideas. I wanted nothing, and still want nothing, to do with the Black family."

The Ministry official scanned the crowd, but the female reporter was apparently not finished. "But surely it must be difficult for you, now seeing how strong the Dark Arts have become! Don't you ever wish you had gone the way of your relatives and become a supporter of He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"No," Sirius said, his voice now unmistakably harsh. "I would rather die than serve Voldemort. And let any who doubt that, leave now."

He indicated the Ministry witch to continue, but the voice he found became quite annoying quite quickly, continued. "Is it true your brother was a Death Eater? And that he was killed when he became frightened of what he was being asked to do? Do you feel ashamed of not being able to help your younger brother? Not pointing him on the right path and abandoning him to the foul clutches of your mother, father and cousin, the renowned and dangerous, Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Sirius' spun his head to face the woman, unaware of how awful and terrifying he looked. His grey eyes were like stones and there was anger in every handsome line of his face. "That is absolutely none of your business," he said, his voice seething with a dangerous rage. "No further questions."

Without further ado, he turned sharply and left the stage, barely aware of the crowd's loud protests. He stormed out the door behind the curtain and was half way to the main entrance hall before James caught up to him. "Sirius! Sirius!" James grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back. "Padfoot!"

"Who the hell was that woman?" Sirius growled, his blood pounding.

"Rita Skeeter," James answered. "An up and coming reporter of the Daily Prophet. You shouldn't have stormed out, Padfoot. You've given her loads of material, and from what I understand, she doesn't need that much."

"Let her write what she wants," Sirius said heatedly. "I don't give a damn. She had no right to bring up Regulus. No right at all!"

"Of course she didn't," James said soothingly, leading Sirius over to the Apparation area. "But tact isn't exactly Rita's strongpoint."

"Apparently," Sirius growled. Both men exchanged significant glances, and words past between them that none could hear. Sirius sighed in defeat and pointed his wand at himself. James followed suit and they were both gone as Bagnold, Moody and Crouch came puffing around the corner, looking for their young heroes.

Sirius and James appeared outside a two-story cottage, quaint and homey. Delicious smells of homemade cooking wafted out to them and laughter was in the air. In the dimming light, the lighted windows looked particularly welcoming. Dark silhouettes walked back and forth past the windows. "You don't blame yourself, do you, Padfoot?" James asked suddenly as they made their way up the walkway.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius scoffed. "Regulus was a stupid dolt. My staying around for another year and a half wouldn't have achieved anything. I certainly wasn't in the position to be a good role model for him."

"No," James agreed. "But I know you. Just because it's logical, doesn't mean…"

Sirius cast a wry glance at his best friend. "Mother was so proud of him," Sirius said softly, turning at the door and looking back into the dusk. "He was going to be her little soldier. And now he's dead." He paused. "Maybe I could have done something for him."

"No," James protested. "We've been over this so many times, mate. There was nothing you could do."

"I know," Sirius said, resigned. "I wonder how proud mother is of him now. Killed by his comrade in arms for chickening out."

"Maybe you should go and see her," James suggested half-heartedly.

"No," Sirius said, brooking no room for argument. "If you could only understand, James, you'd never even suggest that."

"Hey!" The front door opened to reveal a young man, handsome with light brown hair and pale blue eyes. "Are you two going to stand lollygagging out here all night? Lily's outdone herself."

"Hello, Moony," smiled James, walking up to clasp his friend's shoulder. "How are you?"

"No moon tonight, Prongs," Remus Lupin observed.

"Which means he's excellent," Sirius grinned, coming up to stand beside his friends.

"Exactly," nodded Remus. "And you? How was the press conference?"

"Don't ask," Sirius said shortly. "I just want a home-cooked meal, copious amounts of alcohol and the Marauders."

"Well, I think I can manage that," smiled a pretty redhead, coming from the kitchen. Lily Potter was a beautiful woman with long, red curls and vivid green eyes. She kissed her husband chastely in front of his friends and then ushered them warmly inside. "Come on in! What can I get you to drink, Sirius?"

"Something strong," he answered quickly.

"That bad?" Remus said in a quiet voice. Sirius nodded firmly.

Lily led all three men into the kitchen. "Peter's in the living room," Lily explained, checking on the roast. "And Harry's upstairs. But I'm sure he'll wake up when he hears his Daddy and his Padfoot." Sirius' grin was almost as wide as James'. He loved his godson very much, and took almost as much delight in spoiling him as his parents did.

James excused himself, hurrying upstairs to check on his son. Remus and Sirius exchanged knowing grins. They had seen James quite taken with a lot of things, most memorably the woman he now called his wife. But even in his most miserable, devoted rants about Lily Evans in fifth year, he had been hard-pressed to show the loving obsession he now bestowed upon Harry. "That man," Lily grinned, pouring Sirius a shot of Ogden's Fire Whiskey.

"He loves his son very much," Remus grinned. "And his wife."

"With good reason," Lily said pertly, a twinkle in her eye.

Sirius neglected to join in on the fun, instead nursing his drink. "Oh, by the way, Sirius," Lily said, as though remembering something. "I invited Amara Vector. I hope you don't mind."

Sirius unwillingly spat out the drink he had just taken. "A…Amara? Here?" Amara Vector had been Sirius' last school sweetheart. The relationship had ended rather badly, and though Sirius had chosen to forget the particulars, every meeting with Amara, she made no bones about reminding him it was entirely his fault.

"Yeah," Lily said with a tight smile. "Her aunt and uncle died about a week ago…in the East Oxford attack. She's been really upset. I hope you don't mind."

"Aunt Trish?" Sirius inquired, feeling a piece of his heart go out to Amara.

"You remember?" Remus asked, surprised.

"'Mara loved Trish," Sirius said. "Merlin…that would break her heart."

"It rather has," Lily informed him. "So be nice."

"When am I ever not nice?" Sirius asked, feigning hurt.

Lily swatted him and then, upon James' return and assurances Harry was just fine, the party joined the other guests in the front room. Peter Pettigrew, fondly referred to as Wormtail, was sitting in a comfortable armchair, sipping away at a Butterbeer. His pale blonde hair was already thinning prematurely and his watery blue eyes were darting everywhere, trying not to look at the young woman curled up at the end of the couch. When they entered the room, Peter looked up, relief clear. "Prongs! Padfoot!" he grinned widely. "Welcome back. How did everything go?"

"Absolutely horrible," James answered, sitting on the couch opposite the one Amara was on. "Rita Skeeter is officially a cow."

"But we're not going to talk about that," Sirius said hastily. Unintentionally, his eyes landed on Amara and he felt his heart sink at little. A part of him would always be a little in love with his old fling, particularly when she was troubled. She wasn't a particularly pretty woman, with auburn hair, cool grey eyes and tortoise shell glasses. But she had a pretty sort of smile and a sense of humour similar to Sirius. If he had hurt her, and he honestly couldn't remember, it was moments like these he regretted it most of all. She was employed as an Auror as well, but they very rarely worked together, simply because of Sirius' special training. "Hello, Amara," he greeted, taking the seat next to her.

"Sirius," she nodded coolly.

Words failed him, and an awkwardness that was seldom present with the Marauders fell about them heavily. Lily settled down next to James and Remus took a seat in the remaining armchair. "Peter was just telling me about his incident with a Muggle vacuum cleaner," Remus informed the company. Peter worked in Muggle Relations at the Ministry of Magic and he frequently came across amusing Muggle devices.

"What's a vacuum cleaner?" James asked, glancing at his Muggleborn wife.

"It's a machine Muggles use to suck up dust," Lily answered promptly. "All the dirt gets transferred into a bag, and when it's full, they put it in the waste bucket."

"But it doesn't just suck up dust," Peter contradicted. "You've got to watch our for your extremities. See…I was supposed to be searching the apartment for a set of keys that had been bewitched to shrink…you know Muggle-baiting, and the like. Only the cleaning lady came in earlier than expected, and you know I can't Apparate so I figured I just transform into a rat. But this cleaning lady starts bumbling around with her vacuum and she caught my tail in the bloody thing. I thought it was going to be the death of me."

"Didn't she turn it off when she realized she was sucking you up?" Sirius asked, amused at his friend's ability to always get himself into scrapes.

"No!" Peter announced with a huff. "The woman was half-blind. Finally I had no choice but to transform and Obliviate her."

"Only…you're not very good with memory charms, are you, Wormtail?" James asked sceptically.

"Well…maybe not that good, but I think I did it," Peter said, not sounding all that confident.

"Maybe you should Floo the Oblivitor Squad in the morning," Remus suggested tactfully.

"Perhaps you're right," nodded Peter, looking worried. Sirius stifled a chuckle.

"I remember one night, before we found out I was a witch, that is," Lily reminisced. "My sister, Harry's aunt, was getting the vacuum out and…oh, Amara…I'm sorry."

Sirius looked over, amazed at his ex-girlfriend. Large tears had suddenly swelled up behind her glasses at the mention of 'aunt'. He couldn't remember ever seeing her cry, and he had gone through seven years at Hogwarts with her in Gryffindor tower. She had been his longest relationship, lasting a whooping total of four months. "I…I'm sorry, Lily," Amara said quickly, her voice breaking. "You guys just go on…I just need a moment…" She got up hastily and stumbled from the room, scrubbing vigorously at her face.

The group remained in silence until they were sure Amara was out of hearing. "Well…that was awkward," Peter said, bluntly.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out," James said dryly.

"I don't know what to do with her," Lily admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. "But she's got to pull herself together. I understand she was close with her aunt, but it doesn't merit this uncontrollable grief."

"I don't think it's just her aunt," Remus offered as an explanation. "Amara isn't cut out for the life of an Auror. Some people aren't, you know."

The friends sat in comfortable silence, mulling over this possibility. Sirius stared into the fire, his thoughts comfortably diverted from the disastrous press conference and focused on his old flame. He wished there was something he could do for the witch, but if he had learned one thing, it was that Amara was a proud woman and would be slow to accept anyone's help, least of all his. It seemed he was becoming incapable of assisting anyone.

James interrupted his brooding reflections unexpectedly. "Friends…brothers…" he hesitated. "I'm not sure where to begin."

Sirius' eyes shot over to his friend's face, suddenly remembering his odd reaction to Crouch's speech. It looked as though he was about to receive a much-anticipated explanation. "Dumbledore contacted us a few days ago," James said. He avoided meeting any of his friend's eyes, speaking instead to the flames. "It seems Lily and I have become Voldemort's next targets. He believes we are valuable to Dumbledore, and apparently no longer wishes the name of Potter to trouble him."

Peter's mouth dropped, Remus sat up straighter, and Sirius covered his eyes with his hands, feeling unaccountably weary. He wasn't afraid…fear seemed to be a thing very far away from him lately. No, he was furious. Voldemort. It all came back to him. He was the puppet-master playing a game with human lives. "Its not as bad as it sounds," Lily said earnestly. "Dumbledore has a spell…the Fidelius Charm. It will allow James and I go into hiding…somewhere he can't find us."

"How?" Peter asked, looking sceptical.

"By hiding our location inside the mind of a single human being," James replied. "Our Secret-Keeper."

"Now, Dumbledore wanted us to use him as our Secret-Keeper," Lily continued. "He suspects, as we all do by now, that someone in the Inner Circle of the Order may be passing information on to Voldemort. But James and I talked it over, and we simply refuse to believe it could be any of you."

"So, we persuaded Dumbledore to let us choose from amongst our friends," James finished. His eyes finally lifted from the fire and fell on Sirius. "Padfoot…you're Harry's godfather, and my brother. I would be honoured if you would keep our secret."

Sirius leaned back on the couch, thinking quickly. Of course he would leap at the chance to help James and Lily avoid Voldemort's wrath, yet… "I can't," he said.

"Excuse me?" Remus said, anger in his voice. "You can't? What the hell is that supposed to mean, Padfoot? Any of us would die for Lily and James, and you, who claim to hold them so dear, refuse to do this one task for them?"

"I didn't refuse," Sirius contradicted. "I said I couldn't. Its too obvious, James. As soon as Voldemort learns you've gone into hiding, he'll come after me. It's not exactly a secret you and I are best friends. Everyone knows I ran to your house after leaving my own home. I can lead Voldemort on a wild-goose chase…be the bait, you understand. And even if he does catch me, he'll learn nothing. If you want to ensure your continued safety, chose one of the others."

"I'll do it," Remus volunteered immediately. "James, you…all of you, have given me friendships I never dreamed could exist. I would gladly give my life to protect you and your child."

Lily's eyes shone with unshed tears. Sirius' own throat was choking up. He understood Remus' sentiments perfectly. In his early childhood, he had never believed such friendships were possible. He had only known hate and manipulation. He had truly been blessed. He went to share a smile with Peter, but was taken back at the unmistakable look of fury on his friend's face. Sirius' eyes darted back to Remus and couldn't help but take in the greedy, eager look on his face as he made arrangements to meet to perform the spell.

A cold feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. Had he been mistaken to pass the task on to his other friends? What if Lily and James were wrong? What if there were spies hidden amongst them right now? Remus was a werewolf, after all…a dark creature and…Sirius stopped his train of thoughts, mentally beating the prejudiced thoughts into a bloody pulp. It was impossible. There could be no traitors amongst blood brothers.

The old friends spent another half hour in conversation, reminiscing about the past and sharing hopes for the distant future. As time went by, Sirius became more and more aware of Amara's prolonged absence. Finally, he excused himself to go and check on her, ignoring Lily's knowing look and the smirks of the Marauders.

Amara was not in the kitchen, front hall or out on the back deck. Nor was she in the parlour or hiding in the shadows of the stairs. There was a light on upstairs in the bedroom Sirius knew belonged to Harry. He quietly began to ascend the stairs, hoping to come upon her unawares. Amara was not, however, in Harry's room, but just outside, looking in at the small child fondly.

"Hey," Sirius said softly, coming up behind her.

She let out a soft gasp, which she silenced as soon as she saw who had greeted her. Sirius was sure if it were not so dark in the hallway he would be able to see the rosy blush on her cheeks he had come to love in their short time together. "Hello," she said briskly.

"You don't have to act like that with me, 'Mara," Sirius quickly, recognizing her attempts to shut down emotion.

"Oh, because opening up to Sirius Black never got any woman hurt," Amara said bitterly, refusing to meet his eyes.

Sirius reached out and gently turned her face up to his. "I never wanted to hurt you," he said suddenly, unaware where these words were coming from. Only knowing they were true. "I never got around to saying that."

"An apology?" Amara asked, feigning shock. "I'm astonished."

"Yeah, well…don't get used to it," Sirius shrugged. He leaned comfortably against the doorframe, looking in at his sleeping godson. Harry was already growing a shock of messy black hair like James. But his eyes, when open, were his mother's vivid green. His nursery was filled with toys, including a large black stuffed dog Sirius had given him only last week. Sirius was proud to see it was the dog Harry cuddled up to at night, no doubt reminding him of his Uncle Padfoot.

Sirius suddenly became aware of Amara watching him with a soft, longing smile on her face. "What?" he asked, confused.

"Do you realise how many women, myself included, wasted away many long hours wishing you could look at them like the way you look at that boy? All they ever wanted was your unabashed, dedicated love you were so quick to show to your friends." she inquired. "And none of us were ever good enough for you. I begin to wonder if anyone woman ever could be."

"Don't," Sirius pleaded. "Not tonight, 'Mara. Tonight, I just want friendship."

"You'll always have that from me, Sirius," Amara smiled, but Sirius could hear the bitterness in her voice. Impulsively, he reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling her into him. For one of the few times in his life, Sirius guessed right with women, and she gave way to his pulling, burying herself in his chest. They stood, half in shadow, half in light, watching Harry sleeping and taking comfort in the closeness of another human being.

------------------

The man who was once Tom Marvolo Riddle looked down despairingly at the wreak of a man in front of him. Although he was certainly not above accepting aid from traitors, there was something that made Lord Voldemort untrustworthy of them. He who betrayed, could do it again. And someone so cowardly as to betray his 'friends' to save his own skin could never make a really loyal servant. Yet, this one, for the moment, had provided extremely valuable advice, and he had sworn, before resulting to grovelling, that tonight's news exceeded all his previous tidbits.

Finally he seemed to have relieved himself and got timidly up off of his knees. Voldemort forced back a curl of his lips. The hems of his robes were damp from the blood traitor's sobs. "Now…what do you have to tell me?" he hissed menacingly.

"It…it has happened, my Lord," came his croaking voice. "The Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper."

And suddenly, the man who was once Tom Marvolo Riddle, felt a good deal warmer to blood traitors.