Disclaimer: All belongs to JK Rowling, I am merely borrowing her imagination.

Summary: AU Threeshot – As they mourn for their lost Secret Keeper, James struggles to let go. How can he go on when his best friend isn't there to help him?

Dedicated to my best friend. Who I can't live without.

Sirius + James – brothers forever.

Thicker Than Blood and Deeper Than Bone

Part I

Lily took a deep breath before entering the room, using every piece of her Gryffindor bravery to do so without breaking down. Her eyes fell instantly upon the young man sat with his son. The man's inherently messy hair still had dust and blood gritting it, and his clothes were rugged and torn. He held the boy close to him, and though his back was turned towards her, Lily was sure she could hear the soft giggles of the boy, oblivious to his father's pain.

She approached her husband carefully, sitting by his side without a word, not daring to look into his face; frightened of what he would see there when she finally did gaze into his hazel eyes.

Plucking up her courage, Lily raised her gaze so she was staring into James' face, and felt her heart shatter in her breast at the sight of him. His eyes were starved of all emotion, drained and empty – no better than the victim of a Dementor. His hands gripped Harry tightly, but only, it seemed, out of mechanical routine. Comprehending his surroundings seemed beyond the man at this point.

He looked into her face, and Lily nearly whimpered when she saw he couldn't find the strength to look her in the eye. She reached out a hand and took hold of his wrist, squeezing it gently to let him know she was still here.

"James?" she asked softly, but he didn't answer.

"James?" she repeated, a little more firmly this time.

"James?" she asked shortly, determined to make him speak.

He looked up at her again with sad eyes, and Lily's resolve faltered at the expression devoid of all hope. This face had no connection to that of the man she married a few short years ago. He had changed, they had all changed, and finally he had been tipped over the edge.

"What do you want, Lily?" James asked, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"I want to know that you're ok," Lily said tenderly, all the emotion James was incapable of was swimming in her eyes and she felt the cleaving of her heart all over again as a tear streaked a course down James' cheek.

James shook his head. "We need to go find him, I have to save him."

Lily felt her grasp on James' wrist tighten, possibly cutting off the blood supply to his left hand, but he made no noise of discomfort. He was past feeling.

"James…" she whispered, her throat clogged with fear and pain. "He's dead James…you can't save him."

James closed his eyes, shaking his head. "No, he's not dead. I know he's not dead."

"James-"

"Just go, Lily," James whispered abruptly, not looking at the redheaded woman. As much as she hated to admit it, Lily knew it was best for her to leave. She made to depart, but turned back. Slowly, she lifted a wriggling Harry out of her husband's arms and carried him from the room. The infant seemed perfectly happy with his mother, nestling down into the crook of her neck comfortably, as if suddenly very tired, and ready for a nap.

Upon entering the kitchen, Lily placed Harry in his high chair, before sprinkling some powder into the grate, causing an eruption of emerald flames. Placing her head amidst the fluttering fire, Lily stated quite clearly the intended address, and soon found herself staring up at the living room of her old friend.

"Remus?" she asked, and a figure on the couch began to awaken. She repeated his name again, and Remus Lupin was eased out of his doze slowly, until finally he was alert and kneeling on the floor with all haste.

"Lily? What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes bloodshot and his face gaunt.

"I…" Lily began, unsure of how to phrase the sentence in the least upsetting way. "Can you…do you think you could maybe…you know, talk to James? He won't snap out of it, if he doesn't come back to us soon, I'm scared that he won't ever," she murmured, trying to remove the tremor from her voice, but failing. Remus' face turned from one of concern, to one of compassion, and he nodded. Lily briefly muttered her thanks and withdrew from the fireplace, moving to get Harry a biscuit to munch on, trying to think of anything that could take her mind off the truth.

There was a whirl of emerald sparks, and before her stood Remus Lupin, his wolfish amber eyes surrounded by dark rings and his scarred face even paler and sickly looking than usual.

"Where is he?" he asked in a solemn tone, and Lily pointed to the end of the hallway, towards the door through which the living room was. Remus nodded. Ruffling Harry's hair once and kissing Lily's cheek gently, he exited swiftly and went straight to the room the woman indicated without another word.

Lily ate a biscuit unwillingly, seeing as Harry had reached the stage when he would only eat when someone else was eating too. It tasted dry and crumbly in her mouth, and far too bitter. Or maybe that was the regret tainting the flavour. Everything seemed bitter to the taste now.

And then the first crash resounded through the house. For one brief moment, Lily thought it was a storm of Death Eaters, having found them at last. But she realised quickly it was coming from the living room and, stroking Harry's cheek briefly to let him know everything was ok, Lily starting walking down the hallway, not knowing if she wanted to see what was ever sounding like a fight, voices raised and shouting relentlessly.

As she peered through the door that was slightly ajar, she caught a glimpse of both men stood glaring at one another fiercely, the man with light hair held something in his hand, and James let out a yell of anguish and threw a punch at his friend. Remus took the hit, still holding the rectangular square that seemed to be made of light from the way the lamp's glow bounced off it. As Lily narrowed her eyes, she saw it was a square of mirror, and she seemed to recall seeing it before, but she couldn't think where.

"Why, James?" Remus asked, seemingly unaffected by the tears that rolled down James' cheeks the longer held the precious object in his hand.

"Please…" James whimpered, his eyes on the mirror. "Just give it to me,"

"I can't let you do this to yourself. Don't make me do it, James," Remus warned, his eyes guarded and reluctant as James took a step forwards.

"Give me it, Remus," James growled, animalistic snarls rippling his chest.

"Don't James; if this is what it takes to bring you back to reality I'll do it. You know I will. I don't care how much you hate me for it. I'll do it."

"Remus…don't…" James warned, and with that he lunged, making to snatch the mirror.

Despite his Quidditch reflexes, his fingers brushed the cold metal but never grasped it. The mirror fell to the corner of the table with a crash, shattering into a hundred miniscule glints of silver and James froze, his eyes wide with panic. He dropped to his hands and knees, grabbing the pieces and ignoring the pain as they stabbed him repeatedly, cutting open his hands where he sat. Tears fell thick and fast and Remus watched with pity as James' walls of control crumbled before his eyes, sobs shaking him and drawing a cry of agony from his protesting throat.

"SIRIUS!" he screamed, and Sirius didn't answer. He screamed again, and again Sirius didn't answer. Sirius was gone. The Secret Keeper had done his job.

Remus knelt hesitantly beside the man, watching James' reactions with caution. James looked up at his friend, not even trying to stem the flow of tears. He looked unsure whether he wanted to hit him again or not. Remus braced himself for James' knuckles to meet his face, but they never came. James reached over and hugged Remus fiercely, his face pressed into the older man's shoulder. Remus gripped James in a tight embrace, never wanting to let go, in case he lost him too.

"He's gone, James," Remus said softly, catching sight of tear filled emerald eyes and dark red hair, but not turning to Lily.

"No," James murmured, shaking his head and trembling.

"He is, James. He's not coming back." Remus said firmly, his own voice breaking as the truth finally winded him with its force. Sirius was gone. He wasn't coming back.

James let the pain overpower him, and reality slapped him across the face. He was never going to see Padfoot again. His stormy eyes, his arrogant smirk, his barking laugh…all lost.

"Do you want me to repair this?" Remus asked, indicating the shard of mirror in James' bleeding hand. He knew he should be strong enough to take the mirror away from James, because it would only torture James further past his sanity to have it with him, but he found that he couldn't do it. Cruelty was beyond the werewolf right now.

"No…" James said reluctantly, "You're right. I can't keep hold of it."

Remus nodded, a sad smile on his face. Standing up, he held out his hand and hoisted James up, who swayed on the spot momentarily. When he was balanced once more, he nodded.

And together they made their way to the kitchen, were Lily had returned to, and was sat with her son.

They would get through this. Eventually, James thought to himself, eventually he would be able to remember without the pain that accompanied each memory.

OIOIO

Another tear trickled down his pale face, diluting the blood that seemed to have spilled everywhere.

There was the sound of a light footstep, and he flinched at the sound.

"Are you ready to tell me yet, Black?" a cold voice asked, little more than a hiss resonating through the empty room.

He remained silent; he didn't even have the energy to retort with a witty comeback.

His lack of any answer was enough.

"Crucio,"

The spell hit him like a physical force, and his back arched as he squirmed weakly. His bleeding throat didn't even have the strength to scream.

Breathless, the man on the floor closed his eyes against the world, trying to remember a name, a face, a voice…just something to keep him company for what were surely his last days.

"They know you're gone, Black," the cold voice taunted, "And they haven't come for you. They must think you're dead...or maybe they don't care about you enough to risk their own lives."

The man on the floor shook his head a little, but whether in protest or fear it was impossible to tell.

"You're all alone, Black. You may as well just tell me. What loyalty could you have to the friends who have so easily forsaken you?"

And what scared the man the most was that the cold words made sense to him.

It's a well known fact that authors like to know what people think of their work. If you are an author, you should especially understand this feeling, and click the button below and drop me a little review. Constructive criticism is always as equally as welcome as praise.

arwenjanelilylyra x