Promises Defended

Promises Defended

Chapter Five: Between Broken and Believing

Breathe in.

Hold it.

Breathe out.

Will you turn away when I need you most?

The words hung significantly in the empty air. He did not know the answer, did not know what would come. He only knew that it would kill him if they did turn away.

Yet still he stood. Stood and waited, held his breath. Will you understand?

He could sense the wall he'd built between them, knew he could only tear it down once. It had taken too much heart that he no longer possessed to do so, and staring at them made him wonder if he ever would again. There would be one chance--no more.

I made my choice. What will yours be?

Sirius knocked on the door, praying he was wrong, praying that something--everything--would go differently than he expected. Anything.

His knuckles rapped hollowly against the #114 posted conspicuously on the maroon colored door. All the doors on the highest floor of the building were maroon with gold trim, which Sirius had once found vaguely amusing, and still would have if he could scrape up the ability to feel. And yet...he did know that he was acutely out of place here. No one was staring at him, but the two people he'd joined in the lift had been too conspicuous about not looking his way, and Sirius was sure that they'd gotten off long before their intended stops. Climbing stairs, it seemed, was preferable to sharing a lift with the notorious coward Sirius Black. Only twenty-four hours back into life in the Wizarding World, Sirius had already heard the rumors, the bitterness. No one dared speak the words to his face, but he had ears.

In truth, he had known what would happen even before he'd walked away, but Sirius preferred the consequences to the alternative. And he hadn't meant to come back.

Nor did he really want to be here, but there he was, sucking in another deep breath and steeling himself for failure. Peter had lived on the top floor of London's oldest Wizarding residences, The Exploding Tuba, for the last seven years, and Sirius had visited him countless times since his escape from Azkaban the previous January--had it really only been eleven months?--but this time was different. This time could cost far more than the others.

The maroon door swung open to reveal a very startled Peter Pettigrew. "Sir-ius," he stuttered uncharacteristically. He swallowed. "I--we--didn't expect you to come."

"I know."

Peter blinked and stepped back, still staring at Sirius in a way those wizards in the lift would never have dared to. Despite the pain in his friend's eyes, Sirius found the glare was almost comforting. Almost normal. Peter's voice was still shaking. "Come in."

Stepping through the open door, Sirius turned to face his friend full on, reading deeper into the smaller man's eyes than he'd intended to. Or wanted to. Pain he had not thought himself capable of feeling welled up inside him. Not this. Not you. The words emerged without Sirius' consent.

"Do you fear me, Peter?"

He had not wanted his voice to sound so cold, but he could not stop it. Green eyes met his levelly, and there was courage in the reply.

"Yes."

Sirius nodded calmly, and felt almost like an outsider watching his own actions. The pain was real, but distant--and he had expected the reply. Had known it would come. And thus it ends. After so long, it ends.

Remus had risen from his seat at the kitchen table, and James' back was ramrod straight. Both were watching him with hawk-like eyes, silent and unsure of how to receive him--but both were dead calm. They, too, seemed to be mourning for a friendship lost, grieving for what had once been and would never be again. Even Joe, Peter's rambunctious Siberian Husky puppy, was quiet. His blue eyes, too, were focused on Sirius, sad and lost.

"Will you...sit down?" Peter asked hesitantly. There was no fear in his voice now, just worry that a friend might run away. Sirius could see it in his face--Peter, who was always so readable when with his friends, yet the best and most impassive negotiator that the Ministry of Magic had. He was afraid, yes, but not just of Sirius' power, or the tattered control he had almost lost the day before. He was afraid of losing his friend again.

Friends. The only thing that had stopped Sirius when he would have run away. Friends.

He nodded silently, wanting to swallow in pain and refusing to allow himself. Will you turn away when I need you most? He no longer wanted to know. Sirius had a feeling that he'd not be able to bear the answer, even if--less than a day before--he had been convinced that he'd never feel anything again. But that was for another time, another place. Not this.

Sirius quietly lowered himself into an armchair, watching the others out of the corners of his eyes and waiting. Yet three faces stared back as if to ask: Now what? and he had no answers to give.

"I'm surprised you came," Remus finally said.

"I promised I would."

"You promised a lot of things, once," the headmaster replied matter-of-factly. There was no blame in his voice, though there should have been--had that been burned from him, or was Remus' self-control so iron hard these days? "I know I'm not alone in wondering which ones you still stand by."

"Such as?" It was hard not to swallow, but he refused to show weakness.

"Brotherhood." James' voice was ragged. "Friendship. No secrets, no walls. No breeches of trust. Do the words sound familiar?"

They sounded like they came from another lifetime, but Sirius nodded anyway.

"Then how could you forget them?" James whispered brokenly. "How could you forget that we are always here and run away?"

"I--" Sirius swallowed hard. How could he explain that this was a road upon which they could not walk? They would never understand that they could not follow him. "What I am doing--what I have become--the risks and consequences are for me alone."

"What you have become," Remus repeated flatly. His eyes were dark, but Peter's were sad.

"You've become like him," the smallest Marauder whispered.

It struck to the heart. Stabbing Sirius would have been more kind, and somehow--this time--he was not surprised to feel. Slowly, regretfully, he shook his head.

"I should not have come," he breathed. Honesty. "But because...because I am not yet what he is...I had to."

"Not yet?" James demanded. "Will you become the monster he is, and destroy everything we have fought so long for by doing so?"

He could not meet his friends' eyes. "I will go as far as necessary."

"As necessary? None of this is necessary!" James spat. "You're destroying yourself, and for what? To gain power? To become the next Dark Lord?"

"And if I was?" Sirius' head snapped around to face James as fury blossomed out of his control. "You could not stop me then, and you cannot stop me now! I have not asked for your permission or your understanding--and I walked away because I knew this was what you would say!" He was on his feet, and so were they. "You ask why I 'ran'--well, here is your reason! I left to do what had to be done!"

"Had to be? Had to be? Have you lost your mind?" James shouted back.

He was suddenly cold, fighting back the urge to shiver. "No. I've just lost everything else."

"Not everything," Remus whispered, his uncanny blue eyes--so like Dumbledore's!--on Sirius. "Not yet."

"No?" The harsh demand came out before he could stop himself.

"No."

"Not while we're here," Peter swallowed.

"You aren't." His voice went flat as cold certainty blended with anger. "You cannot be."

"And why is that?" James retorted. "Because you don't want us? Are we not good enough for you, now, Padfoot? After all this time, do we not matter?"

"No!" Red flared in his eyes; Sirius felt it, and then sensed the same darkness drown underneath something far more powerful as he shouted: "Because I will not drag you down with me!"

Silence.

The others stared at Sirius, but he could not bear to meet their eyes. Startled by his own outburst, he focused on the far wall, willing it to stay in focus, to stay the same. His head wanted to spin, and his heart wanted to bleed. I now know my answer. Sighing, he rose from the comfortable armchair. One moment's hesitation was all he allowed himself before heading for the door.

"I knew I should not have come," Sirius repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Three long steps, and his hand was on the doorknob. His limbs felt heavy, and a lump had risen in his throat that no amount of swallowing could dissolve, but there was only one road open now. The die had been cast, and the wall remained between them. He had not the strength to tear it down. Not after this.

"Don't!" Three voices, three again where there should have been four. But even Sirius' conscience had stopped objecting months ago; like the rest of his soul, it had been buried. Given up.

"Why not?" he asked, still facing the door.

"Not like this," Peter pleaded.

"How else, then?" Sirius countered emptily. "Goodbyes are always difficult."

"You don't have to go."

Exasperation made him close his eyes. "You don't understand."

"Then make us understand." Peter's voice was harder than Sirius ever remembered it being, stronger and more insistent. It was odd how Remus, always the logical one, was now the quietest. How had the world been permitted to change them so much?

"I can't." Sirius slumped against the doorframe without meaning to. "You--you can't."

"We can try. If you don't lock us out." James' tone was still angry, but there was more pain than hardness in his voice now. Still, the accusation made Sirius turn to face them once more.

He sucked in a ragged breath. "With what I have become...there is no turning back."

"There is, you know." Remus spoke quietly, striding forward until he was only an arm's length away from Sirius. "But not if you do it alone."

"There is no other way." Because you'll hate me for this, and it is my choices that will break our friendship. Remus' bottomless blue eyes looked sad. But I will not allow those choices to break the three of you. Not even when I want to hate everyone.

"There is."

Remus' hand reached out to rest on Sirius' shoulder; on instinct, the Auror flinched away, but with his back against the door there was nowhere to go...and Remus' touch was light. There was no darkness within this man, werewolf or not--he was strong and steady, a rock that waves could only break upon. The touch and the eyes brought back memories that Sirius had thought lost forever, memories of times when the walls were not there and did not have to be. Slowly, long fingers squeezed his shoulder.

"All three of us," Moony said softly, "have spent the last two months feeling angry and betrayed. Perhaps we should not have taken these feelings out on you...but perhaps you should not have forgotten us so easily."

"I have not forgotten."

The smile was gentle. "No. You just wanted to protect us."

Sirius looked away.

"You cannot...and you should not. No matter what road you take, no matter what you become, the darkness can only reach out if you face it alone. We will not let you do that, Sirius," he whispered. "We will not lose you again."

Despite himself, Sirius brought his head up and looked Remus in the eye. Had he a choice, he would not have done so...but he could not bear to walk away. Something burned inside him, and for once it was not darkness.

"We can help you," Peter added quietly.

Sirius swallowed hard and felt his eyes slide shut. You won't--

"We can't understand," James whispered, "unless you let us in. Unless you let us help you. But please, Sirius... We lost you for ten years. Is that not long enough?"

"You do not have to do this alone. No matter what the price, we will stand by you," Remus said softly.

Breathing, Sirius found, was almost impossible. He could only stare and marvel at the growing pain in his chest, wonder how he'd managed to construct such an insurmountable wall--only to see it torn down by his friends, through a few simple words. He had run because he had to, because he could not bear to let them see him fall. And yet...perhaps he did not have to fall. Perhaps his choice had not been the end.

Can I ask so much, when I give so little? He desperately wanted to ask, but did not dare. The small spark of hope was so tempting.

You are not alone, James' eyes told him. As usual, James Potter was the one man who could see through every one of his moods. The one man whom Sirius had been most afraid to face.

"And we don't think you're a monster," Peter added. "Even if we don't understand. No matter what, you're still Sirius Black."

Am I?

Remus squeezed his shoulder again, and James wheeled closer.

"Tell us what to do, and we'll do it," he said earnestly, his eyes burning into Sirius' own. His face was calm but set, intense. Sirius had seen that look before. Twenty-two years ago, four boys had sworn a vow. Together. He shivered for the first time, letting emotion override control. Until the end. Sirius took a deep breath and began to speak.

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Dare I risk this?

Deep breath.

Risk everything.

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"Are you sure this is worth the cost?" James whispered hesitantly when Sirius paused.

Sirius shook his head. "No. But I still have to do it."

"Not alone." Remus laid a hand on his arm.

"Never alone," Peter finished.

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And he told them of the twisted road, of the price, of the darkness. Of the journal, even. Of the evil that lived within him and struggled for release.

Sirius told the truth. He told them everything.

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And he spoke from the heart.

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"What I really need from you, when I delve too deep, when I go too far...is to keep me human."

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They did not walk away.

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He ate dinner with his friends, which Sirius had not intended to do, and slowly felt the barriers fade away. He had not expected the ice to melt--not so quickly, not like this--but here, with them, Sirius could feel again. He could smile. He could laugh. He could imagine being human...and he could even believe it was possible.

Only with them.

Only this moment? There was no way to know. Yet there was only one way to find out, and that was through a path Sirius had feared only a few hours before. Some might have said that it took great courage to embark upon the lonely road he had chosen to take, but Sirius knew differently. The greatest courage lay in pulling himself back from the edge.

Two hours before, he had not thought it possible. Yet now--only now--Sirius was beginning to think that he might not have to do so alone. He felt so normal that it was frightening, felt the darkness drifting away like ashes released into the wind, felt his coldness fading...and his walls crumbling. He'd not thought it possible. Not dared to hope. But three friends had forced the truth from him, forced Sirius to tell them of what he had done and what he planned to do. He had meant to go forth alone to face the darkness, mindless of the risk of losing himself. They, however, would not let him.

A gigantic weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders, and he'd learned to smile again. He had learned to laugh, almost easily and almost naturally. Almost everything.

"So I asked her to marry me. Then and there." Peter grinned. "Right after she called me a shameless and spineless politician and swore she'd let the next group of Death Eaters kill me." He chuckled merrily.

"Of course, she said no."

"And refuse a dashing wizard such as yourself?" James replied through gasps of laughter. "Say it is not so!"

"Alas, she sputtered and told me that I was not her 'type'," Peter replied, still smiling and not the slightest bit put out.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Women."

Sirius felt the grin growing before he could stop himself--or consider his words. "Merlin help the man who finally does convince Hestia Jones to marry him. She'll make his life a living hell. Spend every last moment telling him that he's immature."

"Arrogant!" James added.

"Insufficient," Peter snickered.

"Intolerable," Remus finished.

They laughed together, and Sirius did feel alive. Amazingly, the feeling did not fade so quickly, did not abandon him just when hope started to blossom. The others saw it, of course, could read his face more easily than any book, but they did not comment. James only reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder and squeeze tightly.

"Welcome back, mate."

"Thanks, Prongs." He spoke hoarsely, but the nickname no longer felt alien.

His oldest friend smiled gently. "You're welcome, Padfoot."

"Always welcome," Moony added quietly, and his blue eyes met Sirius'. Remus knew his demons, Sirius suddenly knew. He saw more than even James, had seen the risks, the consequences, and the reactions. But he did not care. Not any more. Nor did Peter, the little boy who had once feared so much, and now asked for so little.

Sirius had been wrong to doubt them.

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Oddly enough, the final ice breaker was that fifteen month old Siberian Husky named Joe. Somehow, before the evening was over, Sirius had found himself in his Animagus form wrestling with said puppy, only to be tripped up by a small but rather bothersome rat. From then on out it had been interesting; each of the Marauders had imbibed a bit more alcohol than perhaps grown men should have, but they had become more drunk on laughter than anything else. Even Remus, who was a light drinker at the best of times, had contributed (heavily) to reducing Peter's ample supply of beverages, and he'd been laughing as uproariously as the others.

Perhaps, if they'd been more sober, James, Peter, or Sirius might have noticed that the drinks affected Remus far less than usual; the headmaster had always been a light drinker because he had little tolerance for alcohol, but this was different. He wasn't any tipsier than the others, and laughed just as much. However, the thought did not occur to the Marauders that night. When it came, it would come much later.

"So, d'you remember the time you put purple dye in Lily's orange juice then charmed it to look orange again and she--"

"It wasn't purple," James interrupted Peter self-righteously. "It was chartreuse."

"Chartreuse, purple, green--what's the difference?"

"Well, if you're going to tell a story, you might as well get it--"

"Get it right?" Remus interjected, laughing. "As if you've never embellished anything to make a story better!"

"That's different."

"How?" Sirius demanded.

"I'm a father. I'm supposed to exaggerate."

"Oh, is that how it works?" Sirius asked, howling with laughter. Soon, Joe's howling joined his own. "I can see I'll have to start reproducing soon!"

"You don't need an excuse to be a compulsive liar," Peter retorted.

"Hey! I--Ooph!"

Sirius landed hard on his back when Remus' hands shot out, shoving him from his chair. Flailing for balance, his hands caught only air, but his feet caught the edge of the table and hit. Hard. Plates, glasses, beer, and candy flew everywhere, pelting the kitchen with ceramic fragments and leftover pizza. Three Marauders yelped. Joe yowled.

"Roorhohoooo!" Sirius replied, laughing so hard that he could barely breathe. Flat on his back, he stared at the upturned table and pizza-covered friends.

"This," he announced, "is so not my fault."

"How is it not?" Peter demanded, glaring down at him.

"Not mine. Not at all."

"Typical Padfoot," Remus grouched. "Refusing to take responsibility for anything."

"You're one to talk!"

And he felt fourteen years old again, sitting at a table surrounded by his best friends. His brothers. The circumstances were just a bit different, of course, but not different enough. They were there; they were together--and that was all that mattered.

"Innocent or not, you're helping me clean up." Peter rose, trying to scowl and failing miserably. The attempt at seriousness only made Sirius laugh harder.

"Oh, no I'm not! Ask Mister Moony there, who didn't know his own strength."

"I had nothing to do with this," Remus said regally.

"Nor I," James added, snickering.

"Really?" Sirius rolled over, grinning. He bounced to his feet and spun towards the door to Peter's bedroom. "Try making me help!"

"Hey!" Three shouts of protest chased him, but Sirius ignored them.

"C'mon, Joe. Let's find some mischief."

But the husky was already gone; the only evidence of his presence was the last bit of a black and white tail disappearing around the edge of the bedroom door. Sirius bounded after him, transforming immediately into Padfoot and aiming to tackle the puppy--until Remus, sailing through the air, landed on top of him.

"Roof!" Sirius objected, trying to roll away from his friend--but Padfoot simply wasn't a heavy enough dog, as big as he was. Remus wasn't exactly large, but all his weight came from muscle. Werewolf-enhanced muscles that were trying their best to wrestle the black dog into submission.

Distantly, he heard James and Peter cheering Remus on, but Sirius concentrated on trying to squirm free, pausing only to bark at the others when they grew too excited. Still, freeing himself from Remus' grasp was hard work, and several minutes had passed before Padfoot could bolt, panting, into Peter's bedroom. Sirius immediately transformed back into himself and slammed the door shut.

"Phew," he said to Joe. "That was close."

Then he turned, and could not believe his eyes.

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A few seconds later, he burst out of the bedroom. Three sets of eyes stared at him in surprised confusion.

"Peter, why do you have Wicked Witch of the West boxers?"

James goggled. "Look, the witch is even flying around on her broom!"

Remus howled with laughter, sounding strangely like his canine self and almost falling out of his chair. For a moment, Sirius was tempted to help Remus along his way, but poor Wormtail had turned bright red and was so much more fun. Stuttering slightly, Peter replied:

"Well, uhhh...They're, y'know. Old. Found them. My Mum bought them for me years ago..."

Oh, no she didn't! Sirius thought triumphantly, then reached out to grab the squirming puppy who had pranced out (oh so gleefully) beside him. He flipped Joe over and peered at the tag. "Look! They're even your size!"

"Padfoot!" Peter yowled, diving for his dog. Joe, however, had other ideas, and jumped clear of both Marauders, diving straight into James' lap. The husky bounced off the table next, and then off of Remus' head. Peter tried to chase him--undoubtedly aiming for the brilliant green (with little flying witches) boxers--only to slip on a slice pizza and fall flat on his face. Pandemonium followed.

In the end, the only conclusion that the exhausted and pizza-coated Marauders could come to was that they hadn't had such a good free-for-all since sixth year at Hogwarts. The ice had broken, quite unintentionally--all because of a furry black and white husky.

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