His whole world was over. Completely and utterly obliterated in one night. Sirius collapsed to his knees, his hands shaking as he reached for his brother in arms, his brother is everything but blood. He should have never trusted Peter Pettigrew, he should have never suggest the rat, he should have been the secret keeper. Because of him, James was now dead, slaughtered by Voldemort in the hast to get to Harry. His breath shuddered, the air in his lungs seemingly gone. This was never supposed to happen. They were supposed to be protected. Hot, heavy tears blurred his vision, his heart shattering.
James was at peace, he looked as though he died painlessly. Covering his mouth, Sirius roughly wiped away his salty tears, gasping for air as he screamed in agony, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother. A hand brushed through his hair, his fingers wrapped around his strands tightly, his lips quivering. He was gone — there was no breath left in James, no life. He was murdered in cold blood.
Reaching out, Sirius rested his hand on James’ face, the warmth slowly leaving his body every second. It wasn’t fair. James was a good man, a great man, his was the best damn man that Sirius ever knew. He would get his revenge, he would tear that rat limb from limb, let him beg for his miserable, worthless life. Sirius tried to swallow, tried to breathe, but nothing would come, nothing happened.
He almost wished this was just a nightmare, that he would wake up by the fire, a squealing Harry crawling around on the floor as Lily cooked their breakfast, with James picking at the food over her shoulder. He wished he could just wake up, that none of this was real. He knew it was real, the air was too cold, too sharp, for it to just be a dream. The air breathed Lily and James, breathed their essence, their mark on the world.
Looking back to James, Sirius carefully lowered his eyelids, sobs breaking past his lips as he did so. It couldn't be real, he didn’t want this to be real. He wanted everything to go back to normal. He needed everything to go back to normal. Rising to his feet, Sirius gritted his teeth and pulled out his wand, his mind on one thing and one thing only— Peter Pettigrew.
Sirius made his way to the singed front door, stepping over it. He was ready to end that rat’s life, ready to make his suffer for selling his friend out. The snivelling rat wouldn’t know what hit him. Readying his wand, Sirius stopped short, a sorrowful cry catching his attention. Harry. How had he forgotten about Harry? Glancing around, Sirius shook his head and made up his mind. He had one job to do, and he was sure as hell going to get it done, no matter what. He could wait, he had something more important to do.
Taking a deep breath, Sirius turned away and walked back inside, tucking away his wand and stepping over James’ stone cold body, ignoring the clenching of his heart. The hallway was littered with glass, plaster and other debris, an icy shudder shooting up his spine. Was Harry injured? How badly injured? Had James and Lily killed Voldemort in the process of protecting their son, only to be killed? All these thoughts raced around Sirius’ mind as he climbed the stairs, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. Why had this happened? How twisted, messed up, could someone be to try and murder a baby, an innocent one year old who still needed his parents?
The upstairs hallway too was covered in debris, scorched marks snaking along the walls and picture frames laid broken on the ground.
Wiping away his fallen tears, Sirius carefully picked up a faced down frame, his breath trapping in his throat at the image. Harry was giggling, riding on his back as Padfoot. He remembered that day, the laughs, the joy, all an echo of the past.
It was all over now, all gone. There would be no more Prongs, Padfoot and Moony, it was only Padfoot and Moony. Choking back a sob, Sirius pulled the image from the frame, carefully tucking it away. He would come back and get all the memories, all of their belongings. Sirius stepped over the glass, cautiously stepping into Harry’s nursery, his wand drawn. Knelt over Lily’s body was Snape, holding her dead corpse and sobbing. Harry sat in his crib, sobbing, his face bright red. Shaking his head, Sirius walked over to Harry, tucking away his wand and picking him up. He cradled his godson close, gently swaying him in his arms, shushing him and humming.
Sirius ignored Snape, keeping all his attention on Harry. He must have been so scared, the little tyke. Pulling out his handkerchief, Sirius carefully wiped away the slight bit of blood on his forehead before he grabbed Harry’s blue blanket and Prongs toy. With the blanket wrapped around Harry and his toy close to his chest, Sirius turned to Snape, raising an eyebrow.
“What are you doing here, Snape?” Sirius asked, his voice quiet as Harry began to slowly fall asleep.
“It’s none of your business, Black, run back to your little furry friend, Dumbledore will be here soon for the boy,” Snape sneered, rising to his feet in a slow matter.
Sirius rolled his eyes and turned away, carefully rocking Harry. His godson was all he had left of James, a constant reminder of their deaths, but that didn’t matter, Sirius would raise his godson right and with just as much love as Lily and James would have given him.
Harry would never know a cold, sleepless night. He would never know the feeling of an empty stomach, so desperately craving food but being denied it. He would never know the harsh words that Petunia Dursley could spit at him, nor the harsh hit from her whale of a husband and her pudgy son. Harry would know love, kindness and all the love that Sirius could give him. He would be cared for, he would laugh with joy and happiness. Harry would be raised right by Sirius.
546Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXdA6Aj7YdC
His whole world was over. Completely and utterly obliterated in one night. Sirius collapsed to his knees, his hands shaking as he reached for his brother in arms, his brother is everything but blood. He should have never trusted Peter Pettigrew, he should have never suggest the rat, he should have been the secret keeper. Because of him, James was now dead, slaughtered by Voldemort in the hast to get to Harry. His breath shuddered, the air in his lungs seemingly gone. This was never supposed to happen. They were supposed to be protected. Hot, heavy tears blurred his vision as his heart shattering.
James was at peace, he died painlessly if his face was anything to go by. Covering his mouth, Sirius roughly wiped away his salty tears, gasping for air as he screamed in agony, unable to tear his eyes away from his brother. His hands ran through his hair, fingers wrapped around his strands tightly, his lips quivering as he wept. He was gone— there was no breath left in James, no life. He was murdered in cold blood.
Reaching out, Sirius rested his hand on James’ face, the warmth slowly leaving his body every second. It wasn’t fair. James was a good man, a great man, he was the best damn man that Sirius ever knew. He would get his revenge, he would tear that rat limb from limb, let him beg for his miserable, worthless life. Sirius tried to swallow, tried to breathe, but nothing would come, nothing happened.
He wished this was a nightmare, that he would wake up by the fire with a squealing Harry crawling around on the floor as Lily cooked their breakfast, James picking at the food over her shoulder only to get a slap on his hand by her cooking spoon. He wished he could just wake up, that none of this was real. He knew it was real, the air was too cold, too sharp, for it to be a figment of his mind. The air breathed Lily and James, breathed their essence, their mark on the world.
Looking back to James, Sirius carefully lowered his eyelids, sobs breaking past his lips as he did so. It couldn't be real, he didn’t want this to be real. He wanted everything to go back to normal. He needed everything to go back to normal. Rising to his feet, Sirius gritted his teeth and pulled out his wand, his mind on one thing and one thing only— Peter Pettigrew.
Sirius made his way to the singed front door that laid on the ground and stepped over it. He was ready to end that rat’s life, ready to make him suffer for selling his friend out. The snivelling rat wouldn’t know what hit him. Readying his wand in hand, Sirius stopped short, a sorrowful cry catching his attention. Harry. How had he forgotten about Harry? Glancing around, Sirius shook his head and made up his mind. He had one job to do, and he was sure as hell going to get it done, no matter what. He could wait, he had something more important to do.
Taking a deep breath, Sirius turned away and walked back inside, tucking away his wand and stepping over James’ stone cold body, ignoring the clenching in his heart. The hallway was littered with glass, plaster and other debris, an icy shudder shooting up his spine. Was Harry injured? How badly injured? Had James and Lily killed Voldemort in the process of protecting their son, only to be killed? All these thoughts raced around Sirius’ mind as he climbed the stairs, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. Why had this happened? How twisted, messed up, could someone be to try and murder a baby, an innocent one year old who still needed his parents?
The upstairs hallway was also covered in debris, scorched marks snaking along the walls and picture frames laid broken on the ground.
Wiping away his fallen tears, Sirius carefully picked up a faced down frame, the mahogany frame burnt around the edges, his breath trapping in his throat at the image. Harry was giggling, riding on his back as Padfoot. He remembered that day, the laughs, the joy, all an echo of the past.
It was all over now, all gone. There would be no more Prongs, Padfoot and Moony, it was only Padfoot and Moony. Choking back a sob, Sirius pulled the image from the frame, carefully tucking it away in his leather jacket pocket. He would come back and get all their memories, all of their belongings.
Sirius stepped over the glass, cautiously entering Harry’s nursery, his wand drawn. Knelt over Lily’s body was Snape, holding her dead corpse and sobbing. Harry sat in his crib, bawling, his face bright red. Shaking his head, Sirius walked over to Harry, tucking away his wand and picking him up. He cradled his godson close, gently swaying him in his arms, shushing him and humming.
Sirius ignored Snape, keeping all his attention on Harry. He must have been so scared, the little tyke, watching his mum die, being left alone with no one to help him. Sirius was here now, protecting his godson and comforting him. Pulling out his handkerchief, Sirius carefully wiped away the slight bit of blood that resided on his forehead before he grabbed Harry’s blue blanket and Prongs toy. With the blanket wrapped around Harry and his toy close to his chest, Sirius turned to Snape, raising an eyebrow.
“What are you doing here, Snape?” Sirius asked, his voice quiet as Harry began to slowly fall asleep. "How could you leave Harry crying in his crib? I understand that you despised James, but Harry is innocent in all this. I know you could hear his cries, I could hear his cries downstairs."
“It’s none of your business, Black, run back to your little furry friend, Dumbledore will be here soon for the boy,” Snape sneered, rising to his feet in a slow matter and choosing to ignore the spawn of Potter.
Sirius rolled his eyes and turned away, carefully rocking Harry. His godson was all he had left of James, a constant reminder of their deaths, but that didn’t matter, Sirius would raise his godson and with as much love as Lily and James would have given him.
Harry would never know a cold, sleepless night. He would never know the feeling of an empty stomach, so desperately craving food but being denied it. He would never know the harsh words that Petunia Dursley could spit at him, nor the harsh hit from her whale of a husband and her pudgy son. Harry would know love, kindness and all the love that Sirius could give him. He would be cared for, he would laugh with joy and happiness. Harry would be raised right by Sirius.546Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyzgfV8o92b
