Just Weak

    Sirius Black blinked. Blue. Turning his head to the side, he realized that he was lying on his back on lush, green grass.

    He sat up. A few dead leaves fell out of his hair. With a small groan, he stretched.

    “Where am I?” he asked aloud.

    “Sirius?” came an equally bemused voice. He stood up, looking around.

    “Sirius!”

    He turned in time to see a tall man running towards him. “James?” he asked incredulously.

    James was half-smiling, that same trademark smirk as always before, and half frowning. His dark hair flopped across his face, just as Sirius remembered it, and his hazel eyes were sparkling with something that Sirius couldn’t place.

    Sirius stood, awestruck. I must be dreaming, he realized painfully. He leaned over to pinch his arm. It hurt.

    And then James was beside him, embracing him, inhaling his fresh scent. James’ arms were stronger than Sirius remembered, or perhaps he was just weaker. He was shorter than James by an inch and a half, and somewhere between burying his face in the soft cloth of his friend’s shirt and touching his shoulders just to make sure he was real, James kissed the top of Sirius’ head, and all the memories poured back.

    “Where are we?” asked Sirius, and James looked away. His eyes were suddenly overbright, shining far too much, and Sirius reached a hand towards him.

    “Where are we?” he asked again gentler this time, and James looked back up.

    “You don’t know?”

    Sirius shook his head, utterly dumbfounded.

    “We’re dead,” murmured James. A tear slipped down his left cheek, pooling in the slight indentation beside his nose, the way Harry’s always did.

    “What the Hell are you talking about?”

    “We’re dead,” repeated James bitterly. “This is…heaven, or hell, or whatever happens to people like us.” He frowned at Sirius. “What happened?”

    Sirius hesitated. What had happened? “I fell,” he mumbled, looking aside.

    “Through the Veil.”

    “Yes.”

    Sirius studied his friend. He had almost forgotten the tiny differences between James and Harry; the longer nose on James, the dimple on the right side of his mouth when he smiled, and the eyes.

    “Lily said…something like that would happen.”

    “What?”

    James shrugged, the way he had before when he didn’t want to talk about something. “She said…she had a dream.” He met Sirius’ gaze; grey on brown.

    “About me?”    

    James nodded and shrugged again. “Sometimes, when one of you or Harry is thinking particularly of us, she gets little glimpses into the future. Some of them come true.”

    Sirius nodded, not quite understanding but not wanting to bother James anymore.

    Silence.

    “Would you…like to come and talk to Lily?”

    Sirius nodded again. “I’d like that,” he smiled.

    The house looked uncannily like their one at Godric’s Hollow had, Sirius decided. His heart was beating in trepidation, nervousness, but James looked at home, relaxed, reaching for the brass knob.    

    He opened the door, letting Sirius walk in first, and shut the door behind them.

    “Lily?” he called.

    She appeared around a corner, red hair falling in gorgeous waves all over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes - Harry’s eyes - were laughing, her skin glowing. She hasn’t changed a bit, Sirius thought.

    Her smile faded slightly when she saw him. “Sirius?”

    He nodded, offering a small smile.

    She hugged him briefly, her hair all in his face. She smelled like rain water and those little flowers that used to grow behind their house. “I’m so sorry, Sirius,” she murmured into his neck, pulling away.

    He gave a little half-shrug, finding that his old smirk bent his lips as easily as it had fifteen years before. Grinning, he added, “Don’t be.” He wrinkled his nose slightly, unsure of what to say next. Then he laughed. “Death suits you, Lily.”

    She laughed easily, the same silvery, fresh laugh as before. It reminded Sirius of bells. A pretty flush crept up into her cheeks; something he had not seen in years. “Stop it, Sirius,” she said, pushing him playfully in the chest.

    He and James laughed. Looking around the house, he took in the decorations, so identical to those of their old home. “It’s good to be back,” he said, turning from a painting he had given them nearly twenty years ago.

    They both laughed. “It’s good to have you,” said James.

    Sirius set the porcelain tea cup back down on it’s saucer and proceeded to study James and Lily. It had been four days since his death, or his coming here, wherever here was. He reached forward and began reading the book on the coffee table (A Short History of Just About Everything, by some Muggle author named Bill Bryson). Really, he was eyeing the couple over the top of the pages, a small but hidden smirk playing on his lips.

    Lily was sitting in the leather armchair across the room from him, bare legs curled up underneath her like a cat. Sirius had laughed in remembrance when he had seen her wearing the same Muggle shorts she had fifteen years ago; the khaki ones with the little rose embroidery. Paired with a far-too-big light blue T-shirt of James’, she looked positively relaxed. She moved slightly, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair, and silver tip of an arrow on the shirt gleamed at Sirius.

    Sirius moved his eyes onto James. His friend was stretched out on the full length of the sofa, shoes lying around somewhere, asleep. His shock of black hair was falling all over his closed eyes, and a tiny line of drool followed the corner of his mouth to his chin. Sirius grinned, remembering the countless time he had seen James this way.

    Lily laughed, that familiar music.

    “What?” asked Sirius innocuously.

    She gave another giggle. “Your book’s upside down,” she snickered.

    Sirius felt his cheeks go red. Turning the book over, he defensively added, “I knew that.”

    Another fit of laughter took the red head before him. “You’ve missed him, haven’t you?”

    Sirius nodded silently, blush subsiding. “I have. You too, Lily.”

    She granted him an chaste smile. Raising an eyebrow, she said, “But?”

    Sirius shrugged slightly. “But I miss Rem now, and-”    

    “And?”

    “And Harry,” he said softly.

    Lily gave him a derisive look. “No need to whisper, Siri,” she said. “James knows as well as I do that we have a son.”

    Sirius felt another wave of embarrassment wash over him. Of course, he thought.

    “Lily,” he began, but she cut him off.

    “What’s he really like?”

    “Wh - what?”

    “What’s he really like, Sirius?”

    Sirius looked away. Catching him discomfiture, she continued.

    “I mean, I’ve seen him before, but…what’s he really like?” An odd look was shining in her eyes.

    Sirius hesitated before speaking. “You’ll be quite pleased to know that he’s inherited your personality, I think.” Suddenly he felt years older - fifteen, to be exact - than Lily. “Though he does have a bit of a troublemaking streak that I have to attribute to James,” he smirked.

    She laughed. “That’s what I thought.” She paused. “I’m glad.”

    “He’s wonderful, you know.”

    “Yes.”

    Silence. Looking at Lily, she was staring over his shoulder and out the window behind him.

    “Lily, why-”

    “Do you seem to only be able to think about the living?” she asked.

    He nodded mutely, surprised at her quick pick-up.

    She shook her head as if to clear it. “You know, Sirius, I really can’t answer that. I feel it too.” She shrugged. “I suppose it’s just part of being…dead.”

    He nodded. Silence, thicker than the last. Then-

    “Close your eyes, Sirius.”

    “What?”

    “Your eyes, Siri,” she said, mock-exasperated. “Close them.”

    He shut his grey eyes.

    Remus. Peter. Snape. Dumbledore. Remus again. Harry. Hermione. Moody. Ron. Ginny. Peter again. Minerva McGonagall. The pictures played across his eyes like a broken Muggle movie or pages in a book.

    He opened them in shock. “Wha-?”

    She smiled soothingly. “It’s frightening at first, isn’t it?” She met his grey eyes with her emerald own. “Those people - those are all the people thinking of you at that moment,” she said. “Most of them, anyway,” Lily amended. “Passing thoughts won’t really occur in your vision.”

    He smiled. “You mean I can-”

    “Yes,” she said. “You can watch them. Just focus on one person, and you’ll see them. It takes a few weeks to get perfected.”

    Sirius hesitated, huge grin plastered across his face. He looked at James. “Is he-”

    Lily nodded. “He’s sleeping, but he usually comes here to watch Harry. I imagine he is right now, actually.”

    Sirius looked away, somehow feeling as though he was intruding on James’ personal life. No, existence. In fact, just being here, wasn’t that interfering with Lily’s existence, too?

    “Lily, I should go-”

    “No,” she said. Her voice was firm, face set.

    “But this is your house. Not mine. I need to get my own-”

    She grinned shyly. “James has said from our first days here that he wanted you to live with us once you…came along.”

    Sirius flushed proudly. “But I should get my own place.”

    She laughed slightly. “You can’t.”

    “What do you mean, I can’t?” he asked.

    “When we bought the house, we had to specify how many people will ever be residing here.”

    “What do you mean, though?” he said, confused.

    Lily laughed again. “Ever wondered why that bedroom you’ve been sleeping in fits you so well?” she asked. “Three. That’s how many people. You, me, and Jamie.”

    “What about Harry?”

    Her smile faded. “I have no doubt that Harry will want his own place. With those two friends of his, perhaps, Ron and Hermione. Or his wife.”

    Sirius nodded in forced agreement. For a minute, he didn’t speak. Then-

    “Lily…thanks.”

    She smiled peacefully, looking back at her book. “Thank James, too.”

    Sirius yawned, tired in the night air. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at James. His friend was sitting on the hilltop beside Sirius, eyes open, staring out into the distance. Lily was on his other side, serene and undisturbed.

    He closed his eyes. As usual, his untrained mind let a stream of pictures loose in his head; Peter, Remus, Harry, Albus, Moody, Harry again, Remus again. He groaned in irritation that he couldn’t master the technique of gazing upon one person.

    “Pads? You alright?” asked James.

    Sirius opened his eyes, annoyed. “I can’t get my mind to focus,” he complained. “Explain it again?”

    James rolled his hazel eyes inwardly. “Close your eyes. Exhale. Tune your thoughts onto one person. What are they doing? Saying? Thinking?”

    Sirius shut his eyes tight. Remus, he thought. Memories of Remus pooled in his eyes; Remus laughing, Remus crying, Remus looking damn angry, Remus kissing him and Remus by moonlight. He snarled at his own ineptness, and the images changed. Remus was in the shower, their shower, the cool water sparkling on his pale skin. It lasted for five seconds before automatically panning onto Peter.

    Peter was alone in a dark, dank room. Shivering, it looked like. Good, thought Sirius. The more suffering the better.

    Remus again, wrapped in a towel. Peter holding his head in his hands. Remus sliding his pajamas on. Peter sobbing roughly.

    “Damn it,” shot Sirius angrily.

    “Eh?” said a bemused James, cocking one eye open.

    “It’s bloody impossible, you know.”

    James shook his head. Same old Sirius, he thought with a grin.

    “What’s going wrong?” he asked.

    Sirius growled. “I keep trying to watch Remus, but my mind keeps going back to Peter.”

    James glanced at him. Lily made a small noise of dissent, the sound drifting away on the wind. “Focus on Peter, then,” she offered.

    “I am not-”

    “It’s the only way to learn,” butted James irritatedly. “Study what your minds wants before bending your thought.”

    Sirius grunted. Closing his eyes, he focused on the rat.

    Peter appeared again, face down on the floor of wherever he was. He was dirty, his clothes filthy and mildewing, and his body was racked with sobs. He was speaking, but the words were not discernable.

    Sirius opened his eyes in anger. “Disgusting bastard,” he spat.

    “Sirius,” said James warningly.

    “No, James. I won’t let it go!” exclaimed Sirius bitterly. “Look what he did, to you, me, Lily, everyone. He’s the sickest excuse of a human being I’ve ever met. I hate him. He can die and go to Hell for all I care. I hope he burns there. He’s a twisted, filthy maniac!” yelled Sirius.

    Silence, as usual. Eyeing the couple tentatively, he watched them. James’ jaw was set, furious but controlled, and Lily was oddly rigid. For a moment, no one spoke. Then-

    “No,” said James. “He’s not a maniac. He was a good friend.” He slid his arm around Lily. “He’s no more evil than you, Sirius," he said. Lily rested her head on her husband's shoulder. "Just weaker."