Solvo

"I don't want to talk about it."

Sirius sat at the Potter's kitchen table, a hot cup of tea in his hands. It was now past midnight, nearly an hour after Sirius had arrived. Mr Potter had opened the door to find the young man on the ground, leaning against the door frame, one hand gripping his rucksack, the other wiping a little blood from his cheek. Soon, the entire household was up; Sirius was ushered in and cleaned up, and Mr Potter fixed the guest room while Mrs Potter made tea and fretted over Sirius. James peppered his best friend with questions, but all Sirius had said since arriving was "thank you." Sensing perhaps the boys would prefer to talk alone, James' parents took their leave. Now it was just James and Sirius, sitting across from one another at the small table.

"Sirius, it's me," James said. "You can tell me anything, mate."

"I don't want to talk about it," Sirius repeated.

"Listen," said James, "you showed up at my house in the middle of the night, you've got scars and a split lip, and you look like you've been through hell. I think any one of those deserves an explanation."

Sirius sighed and looked into his tea. "Can it wait until morning, at least?" he asked quietly.

"It bloody well is morning!" James argued, waving wildly at the clock. Then he added, more gently, "Sirius, what's happened?"

"It's over," Sirius said simply. He set down the un-drunk tea and ran his hands over his face, pressing his eyelids. When the hands fell away, James noticed that Sirius' eyes were red around their rims. "The rows, the school holidays at Grimmauld Place, the lessons in pureblood etiquette - all of it's over now."

Sirius sounded as though he didn't quite believe it himself. He stood up and stared out the window, running his hands through his hair. "I've run away," he finally said. His voice cracked a little on the last word, and Sirius leaned forward against the counter, head in his hands. James thought he might be crying, but suddenly Sirius said coldly, "I've run away, or I've been kicked out - I don't even know which it is."

James sat silently watching his friend, unsure of what to do. Finally, he said, "Well, that's good, isn't it? You're a free man."

Sirius turned to face James angrily, snapping, "You've no idea what you're talking about."

"Hey, calm down, Sirius, I'm just trying to understand."

"The thing is, I don't think you can," Sirius said bitterly. "You've never understood, this whole time. It was always so easy in your mind: the world is full of black and white, right and wrong, simple decisions and easy choices. Well, that's not the world I live in, James. My entire world turned grey when I was sorted into Gryffindor. All the rights were wrong, and all the bads were good. So of course you would say it's good that I've left. They were nothing to you but bad. I lost my family, James. I have no family, no identity anymore, and you think that's 'good'. What, are all of my decisions going to become clear now?"

"You hated that house," James protested. "You hated that life."

"They are my family!" Sirius bellowed. He looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. More quietly, he continued, "Or they were, anyway. I walked out on my family."

"You did what you had to."

"They're not all bad. I know what you're thinking, but they're not. They're parents and siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles with aspirations and hopes and dreams and loves and I walked out on them."

James paused, and something suddenly made sense. He stood up and said very softly, "You couldn't have helped them, Sirius."

"I could have tried!"

Even as he said those words, Sirius sank down against the kitchen cabinets and cried. James stared at him for a moment before joining him on the floor, wrapping his arms around Sirius without another word.