Disclaimer/Notes: I don't own the Harry Potter characters. Sirius's POV.
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Soft moonlight fluttered through the window, greeted only by the sound of a ticking clock. The rest was silence.
I sat in a chair that was warm from my immobile hour. Peter slept soundly on the couch, curled up with his back to the room. Gentle light from the kitchen illuminated a scene that made my heart bleed; Remus in a rocking chair, holding baby Harry. How many times had we been in this living room, laughing, playing, and recently more than ever, crying? And over the years, how many times have we laughed, played, cried? Who can say, the number is too high to count.
My godson lies trusting in his arms. Trust, something a baby has not learned the full weight of. Deceit can be put in the same category.
He sighs and touches Harry's head, moving his fingers through the soft tuffs of hair. I wonder what is weighing him down so. Is it his lycanthropy, or something else? I look for a glimmer of falsehood in those warm eyes everyday, but I never find one. I've always known him to be a man of strength, resilience, and devotion. I had never considered that devotion being placed anywhere else.
But who else could be clever enough to pull it off?
No one could, not without my knowledge. But still...
James left all three of us to watch his tiny son. I know why this is. It is because he doesn't know which one of us he can trust. This hurts me, but I applaud him. I smile at every precaution he takes.
I think about all the secrets we've shared. James I always held back just a little bit from. Not in my friendship, I gave that without restriction, but I never burdened him with my private agonies. Those I took to Remus. There's something about him, something paternal, that makes him a steady rock. I have often wondered where he goes with his agony. I don't dare think about it now.....
He sees me staring. I didn't realize that I was, but I don't move my eyes now. All the jokes, all the sincere moments, all the scary moments; do you think about them with a guilty conscience? When I met you on the train, when I found out the truth of your affliction, the time we snuck into Hogsmeade, the first night I spent as an animagus, our graduation, James's wedding, Harry's birth; what are the price of those? And how quickly will you trade us in? As you stare at my precious godson, do you picture him dead in your master's arms?
What is the price of our lives?........
"What is it?" he asks.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
........And Peter slept soundly on the couch.
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Soft moonlight fluttered through the window, greeted only by the sound of a ticking clock. The rest was silence.
I sat in a chair that was warm from my immobile hour. Peter slept soundly on the couch, curled up with his back to the room. Gentle light from the kitchen illuminated a scene that made my heart bleed; Remus in a rocking chair, holding baby Harry. How many times had we been in this living room, laughing, playing, and recently more than ever, crying? And over the years, how many times have we laughed, played, cried? Who can say, the number is too high to count.
My godson lies trusting in his arms. Trust, something a baby has not learned the full weight of. Deceit can be put in the same category.
He sighs and touches Harry's head, moving his fingers through the soft tuffs of hair. I wonder what is weighing him down so. Is it his lycanthropy, or something else? I look for a glimmer of falsehood in those warm eyes everyday, but I never find one. I've always known him to be a man of strength, resilience, and devotion. I had never considered that devotion being placed anywhere else.
But who else could be clever enough to pull it off?
No one could, not without my knowledge. But still...
James left all three of us to watch his tiny son. I know why this is. It is because he doesn't know which one of us he can trust. This hurts me, but I applaud him. I smile at every precaution he takes.
I think about all the secrets we've shared. James I always held back just a little bit from. Not in my friendship, I gave that without restriction, but I never burdened him with my private agonies. Those I took to Remus. There's something about him, something paternal, that makes him a steady rock. I have often wondered where he goes with his agony. I don't dare think about it now.....
He sees me staring. I didn't realize that I was, but I don't move my eyes now. All the jokes, all the sincere moments, all the scary moments; do you think about them with a guilty conscience? When I met you on the train, when I found out the truth of your affliction, the time we snuck into Hogsmeade, the first night I spent as an animagus, our graduation, James's wedding, Harry's birth; what are the price of those? And how quickly will you trade us in? As you stare at my precious godson, do you picture him dead in your master's arms?
What is the price of our lives?........
"What is it?" he asks.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
........And Peter slept soundly on the couch.