Though I Speak with the Tongues of Men and Angels

Genesis

When Sirius Black was fourteen, he told James Potter that it seemed ironic for his parents to go to church, because anyone who approved the mass genocide of Muggle-borns didn't exactly have a Christian attitude. When he was twenty, he'd learnt something about the history of the world and the nature of the righteous, and bitterly thought that his parents were perhaps not so different from those who used the name of God to justify their crimes. When he was thirty-four he finally understood that faith is truly a personal decision, and no one person can be categorized solely by what he chooses to call himself. But when Sirius Black was eight, church on Sundays was a given.

The Blacks did not attend All Hallows by the Tower, although Sirius would very much have liked to. They didn't attend Victoria Docks, either. Both were populated by Muggles, who were surely lesser in the eyes of God, as they had not been gifted with magic. Instead, the Blacks went to St. Cedric's across town. It was a small church between a launderette and a pizza place, and only appeared if you were with someone who could pull out his wand and trace a cross in the air. It was a shabby church, Sirius thought, nothing like the beautiful old building that All Hallows was housed in. There was no stained glass and the pews were old and scratched, and the altar was extremely simple. But it was a Wizarding, Church of England establishment and therefore the Blacks attended it.

Sirius had never actually volunteered to be an altar boy. His mother simply took him to the vicar one day and told him that Sirius was now eight years old, and that he was ready. The vicar cheerfully agreed, and Sirius resigned himself to having to sit still, not fidget, and no longer doodle on his hymnbook during the sermon. He expected that being an altar boy would be boring and hard work. But he didn't expect the Reverend Matthew Saul.

Mr. Saul was the curate, and far younger than the vicar. He was still old, naturally: thirty-six. He had graying hair and a receding hairline and a beard, and a smile that could put anyone at ease. Sirius liked him because there were always jokes in his sermons, and he talked about his own life. He had almost tangible confidence in his faith and in God, which was something Sirius admired greatly.

But no matter how easy Mr. Saul made faith look, it was anything but simple for a young wizard studying the Bible. While the vicar normally veered away from passages on the occult, Sirius had stumbled across one of them by chance, while he was trying to find a chapter Mr. Saul had mentioned. What he read disturbed him, but when he asked his father, his father just scowled that a Muggle must have written it, and not everything in the Bible was to be taken literally. After all, what fool truly believed that five thousand species of animals would fit into Noah's ark? Sirius was to shut his mouth and learn his lessons, and that was that.

It was an answer, but it wasn't a satisfactory one. Mr. Saul found Sirius sitting on the steps after church, the Bible open across his knees and his head buried in his hands as he tried to twist his mind around the words on the page.

"What's wrong, Sirius?"

"This. It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?" Mr. Saul sat down and looked at the top of the page. "Ah. Leviticus. The law about magic."

"Are we evil?"

Mr. Saul rubbed his beard. "Because we're wizards?"

"Yes. It says that we should be put to death. Is that true?"

"Well, that's a good question Sirius. What do you think?"

Sirius scrunched his nose as he thought. "The Bible sounds pretty definite here," he said tentatively.

Mr. Saul laughed. "It does, doesn't it? But Sirius, the Bible sounds pretty definite about a lot of things."

"What do you mean?"

Mr. Saul took the Bible from him. "Let's look, shall we?" He flipped the pages. "Here we go. Leviticus, chapter twenty-five, verse forty-four -- Read it to me."

"'Both thy bondmen, and thy bondmaids, which thou shalt have, shall be of the heathen that are round about you; of them you shall buy bondmen and bondmaids.' What's a bondman?"

"Think about it, and read the last part of the sentence again."

Sirius's lips moved silently as he tried to digest the meaning. Then... "Slaves?"

"Yes. According to the Bible, God was sanctioning slavery."

"But that's wrong!" Sirius protested.

"By today's standards, with what we know now, yes, it is. Sirius, the Bible is a living document. If you look at it carefully enough, so much of the Old Testament was overturned by what Jesus said. And we've learned so much since that time that many of the picky details aren't relevant to us today. But the message... that's what endures."

"Death to wizards doesn't sound like a picky detail to me."

"It does if you consider that Moses- who wrote the book of Leviticus- was most likely a Muggle, who knew nothing of magic. Magic, in this context, is trafficking with Satan, getting power from the devil."

"Oh."

"We don't do that," Mr. Saul clarified.

"Oh. All right."

Mr. Saul laughed and ruffled Sirius's hair. "It's not that easy, but you don't have to understand it all now, Sirius. Faith isn't something you accomplish- it's a journey. Your faith will change all through your life, and you'll always have questions."

"Do you have questions?" Sirius asked incredulously.

"Millions of them."

"Like what?"

Mr. Saul rubbed his chin again. "Like how God can let people like Grindelwald gain so much power. How people can be so blind. Why Jesus only appeared so many years ago and hasn't appeared since. What if He has appeared again and we simply didn't recognize it? Why is the sky blue? What is the purpose of life? What is Heaven like? I have more questions than there are stars in the sky, Sirius, and most of them will never be answered."

"Oh." For some reason, Sirius found that exciting. The challenge of mysteries that people couldn't solve and the certainty that he could was irresistible. And at the same time, there was a comfort he couldn't define in the fact that someone so confident didn't know everything. He looked back down at the open Bible in his lap. "Can I ask you more?"

Mr. Saul smiled. "That's what I'm here for, Sirius. I can't promise you answers, but we can worry about them together."

Revelation

Sirius had never intended to stay an altar boy. His parents expected him to serve until he went to Hogwarts, where he would only attend church during the holidays. But Sirius liked the task: it was peaceful and rather interesting, and far better than having to sit still during the service. And best of all, being an altar-boy sometimes got him out of lessons.

Every now and then wizards died and were laid to rest at St. Cedric's. Sometimes they were members of the congregation, sometimes they weren't, and sometimes they were what Mr. Saul called "holiday specials." "They only come to church at Christmas and Easter," he told Sirius. "When they feel they really have to." But they were still buried in the churchyard, each and every one of them, with prayers for their soul. The ministers preferred older boys to serve at such times, because funerals generally took place at short notice and there was no time for preparation. They'd pay five Sickles and write a note for Dumbledore, and the chosen boy would take the Knight Bus at ten and be back in time for supper. Sirius loved funerals.

Well, usually.

Professor Binns died on a Tuesday. The pupils weren't quite sure how to react to this; Binns hadn't exactly been winning Teacher of the Year awards. Plus, they first realized he was dead when his ghost began instructing his Fifth Year History of Magic students on goblin revolutions as if nothing was amiss. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Mr. Saul Flooed Sirius and asked him to help at the service for Professor Binns. Sirius, his mind only on the afternoon off and the five Sickles, agreed. It didn't occur to him that most of the Hogwarts staff and many of the students would be present until he was carrying the cross in the procession, and saw Professor McGonagall staring at him in open-mouthed shock. And when he glanced at the students, he saw James and Peter pulling faces at him, and Remus with his head down on the pew in front of him, laughing so hard that his shoulders were shaking.

Oh, shit.

Sirius tried to focus on his duties during the service, but his ears were burning and he honestly thought he might die from the shame of it all. When the benediction was finished, he nearly ran back down the aisle.

***

"The altar boy answered, 'Oh, about a Galleon,'" James said, and then cracked up, clutching his pillow. Remus and Peter were laughing, too. Sirius just scowled.

"Shut up."

"But," James said, "an altar boy!" For some reason this sent the three of them into howls- flat-out howls- of laughter.

"Bugger off," Sirius snapped, and threw down his book. He stomped out of the room. "Stupid wankers," he said, although without quite the heat that he'd shown them. He slipped out of the portrait-hole and stomped down the corridors, not caring in the slightest that it was well after bedtime.

"Wankers," he muttered. "Wankers, all of them."

"Mr. Black."

Oh, great. The night just got better and better, didn't it? "Hello, Professor McGonagall."

"I assume you're quite aware that you should be in your tower right now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I also assume that you are prepared with an explanation as to why you are not?"

The words came out of his mouth before he could even think. "My roommates are wankers."

McGonagall's mouth twitched a little at the side. "Your language leaves something to be desired." She studied him. "Are they giving you a hard time about Professor Binns' funeral?" she asked.

"No," Sirius lied unconvincingly.

"Oh. Well, if they were, I can certainly understand their surprise," Professor McGonagall continued. "You are the last person I'd have expected to see handling the Holy Sacraments, Mr. Black. But that shouldn't really be a deterrent."

Sirius eyed her suspiciously.

"People have always been persecuted for their beliefs," McGonagall said. "Sometimes tortured to death. It makes a little schoolboy teasing seem insignificant, doesn't it?"

Sirius nodded, but the truth was that it didn't seem insignificant at all. Not to him.

***

"Have you given any more thought about joining our advanced Bible-study group, Sirius?" Mr. Saul asked him the summer after his first year at Hogwarts.

"Yeah," Sirius said, putting his vestments on the hanger and pulling his own robe back on. "I don't think I'm going to."

Mr. Saul looked at him in surprise. "I thought you wanted to."

"Well, sort of," Sirius admitted. "But it takes up a lot of time, doesn't it? And it's mainly useful if you want to join the priesthood or something.

"Yes, but I'm sure you can fit it into your other studies. I think you'll enjoy it."

Something in Sirius wavered. "I know that," he said, trying to sound casual. "But I don't think I'm going to."

"Forgive me for asking, but why not?" Mr. Saul sat down in a chair, but Sirius remained standing.

"I don't know," he said with a shrug.

"Yes, you do. Did your friends find out?"

Sirius didn't answer, but the truth must have shown on his face, because Mr. Saul sighed. "You shouldn't let that bother you, you know. Faith is something between you and God, not between you and your friends."

"I don't let it bother me," Sirius lied. "I just don't want to study theology in a lot of depth, or get too involved in church things."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know," Mr. Saul said.

Sirius nodded, but he knew he wouldn't.

Funny, how that hurt, almost like having to let go of a dream.

***

By the time Sirius was sixteen, he attended church because he was told to. To be honest, he didn't give it much thought. Religion wasn't exactly a high priority at Hogwarts, and when he was home, he told himself it was easier not to argue with his parents, although it had been years since his parents had managed to make Sirius do anything he didn't want to do. So he sat at the end of the unofficial family pew, surly and grumpy, reciting the responses by rote. He often reflected that Voldemort didn't think very highly of the church, but he knew by now to keep that opinion to himself.

Exodus

Sirius left home forever on a Friday. Mr. Saul arrived at the Potters' the following Tuesday.

Sirius was glad to see him. He was an anchor, a touchstone - even if Sirius wouldn't admit it. They sat in the parlor with the Potters, who stayed until the cake and tea was gone and then graciously (or, in James's case, not-so-graciously but good-naturedly) excused themselves.

"Well," Mr. Saul began.

He looked older than Sirius remembered. He'd lost more hair and shaved off the beard, and he looked tired and serious. But still, Sirius felt the words welling inside him. The Potters were wonderful, but he couldn't confide in them the way he could in Mr. Saul.

"Your parents talked to me on Sunday."

Time seemed to stop, and Sirius stared at him blankly.

"Sirius, I'm very disappointed in you."

"In me?" Sirius asked, his voice cracking.

"Sirius, this is your family that you've walked out on. Your father, your mother, your brother. There must be some way for you to mend the rifts."

"There isn't," Sirius said, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sirius-"

"Do you even know why I left?"

"Your mother said that you don't hold the same values."

"They support Voldemort!"

Mr. Saul cringed. "Perhaps it's best if you don't say that name."

"Why not? It's just a name if you say it. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!"

"Sirius!" Mr. Saul snapped, and then he took a deep breath. Sirius sensed he had pushed the man too far, and was glad. "I know you don't agree with your parents. I understand that. Really, I do. I don't agree with them either."

"I know."

"But to cut them out of your life forever, to walk out.... There has to be a middle ground."

"There's never a middle ground with murderers," Sirius insisted.

"They're your parents," Mr. Saul said. Sirius made a face. "Sirius, the Bible says to honor thy father and thy mother."

"It also says that thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," Sirius reminded him. "Are we picking and choosing which parts of Scripture are valid now?"

"It's one of the Ten Commandments!"

"The witch one is a commandment, too. It just didn't rate capitalization."

Mr. Saul closed his eyes. "Sirius," he finally said with heavy patience, "what worries me is that this... this may be something you regret one day. God does not make rules to make us miserable. He makes them because He truly knows what's best for us. Cutting your parents out of your life will come back to haunt you."

"Did she tell you she scorched my name off the family tapestry?" Sirius demanded angrily. "Did she tell you she was glad to see the back of me? Did she tell you that she called me an abomination, her shame, and no son of hers? I'll honor her when she damn well honors me!"

He could see from the look on Mr. Saul's face that this was all new to him. But when he said, "It must be a misunderstanding," Sirius knew he wasn't going to listen.

And if Mr. Saul wasn't going to listen, Sirius wasn't, either.

***

If James had ever asked him (although he didn't), Sirius would have said that he'd given the whole visit no more thought. It would have been a lie, obviously, but not enough to fool James.

But when St. Cedric's was burned down and Mr. Saul was killed, Sirius holed himself up in his room and cried.

James

"Godfather?" Sirius asked, unbelieving and ready to bounce off the couch. Only the fact that Harry was nestled in his arms kept him from doing so. "You really want me to be godfather to Harry?"

"Oh, don't act so surprised, Padfoot!" James laughed. "Who did you think I was going to ask?"

"Okay, let me rephrase that." He looked at Lily. "You really want me to be godfather?"

"Sirius, it took me how many years to go out with James? Would I give in easily on something this important?"

"No," Sirius admitted, and then looked down at the sleeping black-haired bundle. "But me. Godfather." He thought about it a little more, but the concept still overwhelmed him with happiness. "Me."

"You," James laughed. "Absolutely."

***

James and Lily were disappointed that they couldn't celebrate Harry's christening properly, but Sirius was perversely pleased that it was only the three of them at the ceremony. This was such an intimate time. As he stood with the Muggle minister, James, and Lily, he felt a great peace flood through him- great peace, great hope, and great determination. When the minister handed him Harry and asked if he vowed to pray for this child, draw him by example into the community of faith, and walk with him in the way of Christ, Sirius said "I do" with all his heart. When the holy water was poured on Harry's head, it was as if Sirius himself was being baptized again.

He hadn't felt this peace since his teens. It spread through his soul like a hot cup of coffee spreads through the body, warming him from the inside out. Sirius closed his eyes, the scents of hot wax and that slightly musty church smell taking him back to a time when life seemed so much easier.

He hadn't consciously prayed for years, but now he closed his eyes and bowed his head and did so. He prayed for Harry, that he would grow up happy and strong, in a world that was better than the one they knew now. He prayed for James and Lily, for God to give them strength for what they all knew lay ahead. He prayed for Peter and Remus, that they would stay safe and that when this was all over, they would be able to go on with their lives. And he prayed for himself, and asked God to help him keep his promises.

***

After Harry's christening, Sirius began attending church again. He didn't actually tell anyone- he just tagged along with Lily one day. It would have been pointless to mention it- Peter wouldn't have cared, and Remus would have scoffed at him. James, despite a profession of faith, maintained that it wasn't safe for Harry to be out, which was probably true. So Sirius sat beside Lily in a Muggle church, and somehow that seemed right.

Corinthians

"All right then," Sirius said awkwardly.

"All right," James echoed.

"We'll do it tonight."

James nodded, standing in the tiny kitchen. Sirius couldn't take his eyes off him. Every detail of his best friend stood out in sharp relief, every color intensified. "It will just be for a little while," Sirius heard himself saying.

"Right. Just a little while." James nodded sharply.

Lily walked into the kitchen. Sirius thought she looked beautiful, her red hair soft in the morning sunlight. She looked serene. Untouchable.

If only.

"Is everything ready?" James asked her.

"I think so," Lily answered, her voice shaking. "Would you mind watching Harry for a while?"

James didn't blink. "Not at all." He looked once more at Sirius. "I'll see you tonight, Padfoot."

"Right." Sirius watched him go.

"Come on, Sirius. I want to take a walk," Lily said.

They walked out into the autumn sunshine, dried leaves dancing at their feet and scuffling on the wind. Sirius buried his hands deep in his pockets. It occurred to him that Lily and James weren't the only ones who wouldn't be able to go for walks like this any time soon.

They didn't speak as they walked, but the silence was companionable. Sirius chuckled to himself, remembering a time when friendship between them would have seemed impossible. He hadn't wanted Lily in his life; and now, he couldn't imagine life without her.

They passed Muggles going about their daily business. The crowds flowed around them like a river. For a moment Sirius wished he could just give up his magic and join that world, where lies and betrayal and death weren't looming so imminently.

Lily saw him watching them. "Funny, isn't it? How they don't know that we could be on the brink of destruction?"

"Would you go back?" Sirius asked. "If you could give it all up, would you?"

Lily shook her head. "Not for anything, Sirius. Come on." She took his hand, and when Sirius looked up, he realized that he'd known their destination all along.

"This is right, isn't it?" he said softly, staring at the stained glass.

"Yes."

"James?"

"I didn't tell him where we were headed, but he knows. I think he's more with Remus on the whole God issue these days."

Sirius closed his eyes against the pain, and then opened them to see Lily watching him. He squeezed her hand and they stood there without saying anything for a while.

Lamentations

When the cell door slammed behind him, Sirius vowed he would never trust God again.

***

What the fuck? How could You fucking do this? What did they do to deserve this? Do You have any idea what good people they were? He took me in when I had no place else to go. He was my brother. She tried to protect people- even people who didn't deserve it. And You took them. You left Harry- a baby- on his own, without his parents. I hate You.

***

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to James and Lily. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen what was happening? How can I ever forgive myself?

***

He found he could still remember Bible verses he'd learned as a child. He recited them to himself when the featureless days grew too long, to keep his mind sharp.

He was dimly aware that this was a form of prayer.

***

Harry. I've betrayed Harry. I promised that I would... I would be an example. Guide him. And instead, I'm here. He bowed his head, the long, matted strands falling forward against his cheeks. I'm sorry.

He tried to imagine himself teaching Harry to pray, but the image was sucked away before it could fully form.

***

He never believed that prayer kept him strong and his mind intact. His own innocence and his own powers did that. After all, God wouldn't bother to watch what was going on in a little cell in a dank prison- surely He had better things to do. If the entire Wizarding world could forget Sirius's existence, why should one mere deity remember him?

Then again, when he asked for the Daily Prophet and saw Peter inside, he realized that perhaps God hadn't forgotten him after all.

Peter

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.... The words ran through his head as he swam to shore, as he found shelter, as he started the long journey down to St. Ottery Catchpole. He could see Peter so clearly, frozen in time as he blew up the street behind him and condemned Sirius to twelve years of hell.

He prowled the roads and fields, growling at rats wherever he met them. Naturally, none of them were Peter. Peter was snuggled up in a shoebox somewhere, a cherished family pet that had been taken to Egypt, for Merlin's sake. With a deep bitterness, Sirius thought that he had never been to Egypt.

Yes, Peter was safe and snug, with heat and water and crumbs from the table. Blankets at night and a mattress or fresh straw to sleep on. Loving hands and laughter and music around him (how Sirius had missed music!) and-

Speaking of music, the sound floated to him now. An organ, muted against the more mundane sounds of Muggle traffic and footsteps and Sunday morning conversation. Drawn, Sirius slunk up the steps to the church.

He got a few odd looks and one old lady tried to shoo him out, even waving her handbag, but Sirius evaded her and faded away from Muggle sight. He managed to wedge himself under a pew before anyone else could spot him. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the music wash over him.

He was asleep even before the sermon began.

***

He woke up long after the congregation had tramped out, woke to the sound of broom bristles on the floor and cheerful, off-key humming. He slunk out from his hiding place and saw the vicar. He meant to leave quietly- after all, he'd paused here far longer than he'd planned- but the vicar caught sight of him first.

"Well. Hello there, lad. When did you come in?"

As he was a dog, Sirius didn't have to answer. He didn't mean to respond at all, but his tail started wagging regardless. The doggy part of his heart liked this man instantly. He was short and rather pudgy, with blond hair that was slipping away and robes fraying at the seams. The vicar patted him on the head and scratched behind his ears, which Sirius was always a sucker for.

"You're a mite thin, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically. "Why don't you come back to the rectory and I'll see what I can find for you, aye?"

For a moment, all thoughts of Peter were forgotten in the face of food and Sirius followed the man, tail still wagging eagerly.

At one time, he might have laughed at the food set before him: a plate of bread with a small slice of ham, and a bowl of water. But right now it tasted like ambrosia, and only after he wolfed it down did Sirius notice that the man was eating the same thing.

"I'm afraid I don't have much to give you, lad," the vicar said, and Sirius yelped and wagged his tail. There was no way this kind man could know how much of a feast bread and ham was to him.

He reached down and scratched Sirius's ears again. "I'd like you to stay here," he sighed. "It would be a comfort and a kindness to me, to have the company. But I'm afraid it wouldn't be a comfort or a kindness to you."

Sirius nuzzled under his arm. That was all right- he had no intention of staying. The vicar chuckled though. "Well, we can find you a home, I'm sure, if you'd like."

Well, no. Sirius wouldn't like.

He sighed, flopping down on the floor at the vicar's feet. What if he had actually studied theology more deeply, perhaps even followed that long-forgotten, never-admitted desire to become a minister? The implications were far too complex for his mind in this form, and he suspected that if he dwelled on them, he'd go mad, because it was so easy to see how James and Lily might still be alive if he'd followed God instead of following his friends.

He growled, deep in his throat. The vicar patted him soothingly.

"Well, why don't you stay tonight and we'll find you a home tomorrow, aye?"

Sirius wagged his tail. A comfortable night indoors with food and clean water was appealing. He padded alongside the vicar as he went about the rest of his duties. The quiet of the little church and the musty smell were a comfort to him.

An old lady walked in, her shrill "Hello!" intruding on the peace of the room. The vicar sighed and struggled to his feet, dredging up a smile.

"Hell, Mrs. Kelly," he said. Had he been human, Sirius would have smirked. "How are you today?"

"Oh, terrible," the woman began. "I've been having trouble with my neck again, and the headaches! God has cursed me, Mr. Pettigrew."

The name hit Sirius with the force of a sucker punch, and he was out into the streets before the vicar could say a word. Amazing, how Peter could not even be here and still steal the only peace he'd found since that horrible November day.

***

Judges

Seeing Harry was not a shock, not really. He'd expected him to look like James (although maybe not quite that much). He'd also been the one to seek Harry out. So no, Harry was not a shock.

Remus was.

He'd deliberately not thought much of Remus since his escape. Oddly enough, thinking of James and Lily was easier. He knew what James and Lily would say- or rather, wouldn't say. They were dead, after all, and there was no changing that. On the rare occasions he'd imagined Remus, he'd thought of him in some research lab doing intricate work, or traveling the world. He rarely imagined any sort of companion- he knew Remus's old insecurities far too well for that- but he imagined a life of friends and adventure. At least, he hoped it was a life of friends and adventures.

He didn't expect the shabby, skinny, ragged man who was walking on the Hogwarts grounds talking amiably with Hagrid, wistfulness and struggle etched clearly on his face.

Sirius darted back into the Forbidden Forest and transformed back into a human, his hands clammy and shaking. When he closed his eyes, he saw the shadow of Remus's form, the skinny shoulders hunched against the wind and the world. Sirius was sure he recognized Remus's robes and that first patch Remus had put in the elbow, although the multitude that had joined it were new to him.

He watched Remus carefully during the year. He wasn't able to see much of him- Remus was the one person in the castle who would recognize him instantly. But what he saw told him enough about the life Remus had been leading over the past twenty years, and Sirius knew it wasn't supposed to be like this.

***

It was a miracle he neither expected nor deserved, when Remus hugged him in the Shrieking Shack. And when Remus came and found him and Buckbeak two days later, Sirius thought maybe God had forgiven him at last.

***

"Do you believe in God?" Sirius asked as they walked down the center of a bazaar in Morocco.

"Of course," Remus said, studying a stall of dates and figs. "My mother was Catholic. I never really had a choice."

"I didn't know that."

Remus made a face. "God and I aren't exactly on speaking terms. He made it clear He was out to get me a long time ago."

"In 1981?" Sirius asked bitterly.

"In 1964."

"Oh."

"It's all right," Remus said, although Sirius hadn't apologized. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Sirius lied.

"Do you still believe in God?" Remus asked when the silence had stretched so long that Sirius thought Remus had forgotten about the conversation.

Sirius pressed his lips together. "Don't really want to."

Remus arched an eyebrow. "But you do. Fearing hellfire and damnation?"

"Something like that."

Remus stopped, and because he did, Sirius stopped too. The Muggles surged around them, full of color and life. Vendors were shouting in a tongue Sirius didn't understand, the swish of cloth met his ears and the smell of fruits and spices assaulted his nose. And in an environment as different from the Shrieking Shack as a place could be, Remus Lupin hugged him again.

It wasn't an answer or a miracle, but it was the right thing to do.

Proverbs

Sirius had no choice but to go to Hogsmeade when Harry was entered in the Triwizard Tournament, and both he and Remus knew it. There was never any question about Remus's inability to go, either. They both just accepted it as another separation, but this one in good faith and on good terms, and for a good reason.

It was like that year after his escape again, but different. He might still be subsisting on rats and living in the wild, but Sirius didn't mind. Now Remus knew the truth, and so did Harry. And oh, Harry....

Sirius reveled in every note he received from the boy. They were more than he ever could have asked for, meant more than Harry would ever know. To Harry, they probably seemed like dull accounts of his summer, but to Sirius, they were expressions of a trust that he'd never expected to encounter. Sirius treasured those letters, and only refrained from sleeping with them because he thought Remus would fall about laughing if he ever found out.

The letters had been wonderful, but to be here, so close to Harry, and able to be a part of his life... Sirius would have eaten an entire cave full of rats just for one visit.

***

The day Harry, Hermione, and Ron were to visit (honestly, Sirius didn't expect Harry to come without those two) he woke up surprisingly nervous. His stomach was jumping all over the place and his palms were clammy, and he realized he hadn't felt quite like this since he was a teenager falling in love, or what he considered love, for the first time.

It bothered him. In fact, it kept him on edge the entire day, until he saw the three young people walking towards the fence where he was waiting. And then all of a sudden the reason he was nervous hit him like a rampaging Hippogriff.

Harry was looking to Sirius for advice, for guidance... and Sirius didn't want to fuck this up, too.

His stomach went from quivering to frozen over, and for a moment he wanted to turn and run away. This was too important, too big, too... James would never forgive him if he messed this up.

Naturally, he didn't run away, because Sirius Black was anything but a coward. But in his thirty-four years, he'd learned that bravery was not the lack of fear, but the ability to fear something and go forward anyway. And somehow, he felt a hand on his shoulder, real in spirit even if not in physical form. As the kids approached, he wagged his tail.

Song of Songs

When Sirius Black was eight, he thought he'd have his life sorted out and know everything by his thirties. When he was fourteen, he was convinced he did know everything already. When he was twenty, he still maintained that belief, although he had a sneaking, unacknowledged suspicion that he was wrong. Now he was in his thirties, he bloody well wished he could remember what he thought he knew, because he certainly didn't know everything and he hated knowing that. Especially when Bellatrix Lestrange hit him square in the chest and he toppled back through the Veil.

***

He opened his eyes to see a shadowy figure before him.

"Do you believe in God?"

Moments flashed before his eyes:

-Death Eaters, willing to kill children-

Remus, cold and too thin and dressed in ragged clothing while Peter was warm and fat and snug

The walls of Azkaban

James on the floor, dead and cold, Lily in front of the crib, the same way

Harry crying then, Harry trying not to cry after the Triwizard Tournament

Voldemort resurrected and Cedric's murder

Harry witnessing both those things

Harry being strong enough to stand it

James and Lily, whispering to Harry, helping him in his hour of need

Harry staring at him incredulously, asking when he could move in

The warmth of Remus's embrace

Laughter and pranks and friendship and warmth, the Potters' fireplace and Mrs. Potter's warmth and James's smile and Remus's laugh and Peter's younger affection and Harry's hug and Molly's Boggart and Arthur's devotion and Ginny's red hair and Fred and George's inventiveness and Ron's loyalty and Hermione's intelligence and Harry's trust and Harry's faith and Harry's life....

"Yes," he whispered. "I don't understand, but I believe."

The shadowy figure materialized, and he could see James's face just before he was enfolded in a warm embrace. "Welcome home, Padfoot," James whispered. "Welcome home."