For the Chritmassy ficlets ummm, can I request James and Sirius with the prompt "light in the darkness"? Or "candle in the window"? Something to that effect. Thanks!
I may have taken this prompt slightly more literally than you meant it, but I think it still came out alright—I hope you like it!
(This is set in my Harry Potter fix-it AU, where James and Lily survive Halloween. This fic takes place the December right after that.)
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When Sirius and James had dreamed about becoming Aurors, they’d imagined that their time would be spent doing grand, exciting things—hunting and catching criminals and Death Eaters and the like. And indeed, there was much of that—in the few months after Voldemort’s fall, even the most junior of Aurors were tasked with catching what Death Eaters remained before they succeeded in slithering into the cracks and disappearing.
But what Sirius hadn’t anticipated was the paperwork.
He knew he should have—this was the Ministry, the very birthplace of Wizarding bureaucratic nonsense. It almost made him miss the days before Voldemort fell, the days of the Order, where they barely had time to plan what they did, let alone write up reports about it. The key word, though, was almost. Those days had felt like glory only at the beginning—then the deaths had begun to pile up. And the mistrust. And the lies.
Sirius sighed and looked up from his paperwork, glancing at the clock. It was officially midnight. At least they were getting paid overtime, though the only one who that really mattered to was Remus, who was currently asleep at his desk, head pillowed on his arms. Sirius didn’t see the sense in waking him, though—it was only a few days after the full moon.
The dim candlelight cast strange shadows about the office, which was decorated for Christmas to the fullest extent it could be—a small Christmas tree sat in the corner, their desks were decorated with ribbons and garland, and they’d even managed to enchant the office’s single window to always look as if there was a gentle snowfall outside. Strangely, though James was usually the one to insist on the importance of holiday decorating, Sirius had actually had to remind him this year. He’d then taken up the task with his usual gusto, but the fact that he’d even had to be reminded at all concerned Sirius.
James hadn’t talked much about the events two months previous, not even to Sirius—not about Voldemort, the new scar on his chest, his near (or actual) death, or what he thought had happened. His best friend being close-lipped about anything at all was such an oddity that Sirius couldn’t help being concerned, even though in all other respects James seemed perfectly fine, if perhaps a little more cautious about his and his family’s safety.
Sirius glanced at him now, and seeing him staring into the candle flame on his desk instead of attending to his paperwork, frowned. Not that James was exactly the model of focus, but he chatted, fidgeted, or monologued when distracted—he did not get caught in reveries. At least…he didn’t before.
Sirius thought about throwing a wad of paper at his head, but thought better of it. Instead, he got up and wandered over to lean on his desk, “What’s up, mate? Realize you forgot a Christmas present? If you’re blanking on ideas for Harry, I’ve got loads, though I’m not sure Lily will—“
“—no,” James interrupted. “Harry is accounted for, and then some. Too much, if you ask Evans.” He paused, hesitating. “I was, uh…thinking about Peter, actually.”
Sirius stiffened. “You’re…what?”
“Well,” James explained quickly, “it’s just hard not to. First Christmas without him and everything. I keep thinking that I still need to give him a gift, or ask him what he’s bringing for Christmas dinner—you know?”
Sirius didn’t know. He’d done his best to exorcise the very name “Peter” from his mind ever since Halloween. Not that he’d succeeded all too well—it wasn’t exactly easy not to think about a former friend you may have killed.
He glanced across the room at Remus again. That fight that morning in the street had been less of a structured duel and more the magical version of a full-out brawl. He couldn’t even remember what spells he’d used—really, he just recalled screaming, and light and sound blasting from his wand in kind. He also remembered hearing Peter’s squeaks of terror, and Remus’ clear voice amidst the light and the smoke, eerily, icily calm. Despite how much he hated Peter, he found himself secretly, selfishly hoping that it had been Remus who had dealt the killing blow. Of the two of them, he somehow suspected Moony would be able to better stomach it.
But despite that wish, he still hated Peter all the same. “Are you saying you miss him?” Sirius asked bitterly. “After what he did? That lying, sniveling, backstabbing—if anyone has any right to be angry, it’s you.“
“I know, Pads, I know,” James said heavily. “I know what he did, he sold us out—me, Lily, our kids, all of us, we could have died, he could have doomed the whole world. Just because he was a filthy lying coward,” he said with venom. “I know all that, I do, but…” He faltered. “He was one of us.” He looked up at Sirius, a muted, confused anguish in his eyes. “You know? We…we’ve never been three before.”
Sirius opened his mouth to argue—but then shut it. He didn’t mourn Peter. Not yet. Maybe he never would. But maybe he could mourn what he had been to them, who he had been to them—the space where he used to be…but he felt his heart hardening at the thought of even doing that much. It was hard for him to look back at the memories of their school days now. They had been tainted, like something sacred had been perverted. Had Peter ever cared about them? Had he just been using them? Or was his will so weak that what love he had for them didn’t matter?
Sirius shook his head. He couldn’t say any of that to James, not now. He couldn’t understand how he could feel any sadness at Peter’s loss—but it didn’t matter if he understood. “No, we haven’t,” Sirius finally said. “But…we are now, Prongs.” He put a hand on James’ shoulder. “And we’re going to be okay. The three of us, and Lily, and Harry. Got it?”
“…yeah.” James offered him a half-smile. “Got it.”
Sirius, in the heavy silence that followed, reflected on James’ words—and then suddenly, his eyes went wide. “Wait,” he exclaimed, “earlier—did you say ‘kids’?”
James looked at him sharply. “Huh?”
“You didn’t say ‘our kid,’” Sirius insisted. “You said ‘kids.’”
James jumped out of his chair. “Blast,” he cursed. “Okay,” he said seriously, poking him in the chest, “on Christmas Eve when Lily announces it to everybody, you have to act surprised.”
“You know I’m an accomplished thespian,” Sirius joked. He clapped James on the shoulder and then started to shake him. “Congratulations, mate!”
James grinned. “Thanks. We would have said something sooner, we’ve known for a while, but we weren’t sure if…well, after Halloween…” He cleared his throat. “Well, anyway. Turned out there was nothing to worry about.”
“Ohhhh, this is gonna be great,” Sirius said excitedly. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Two little Potters running around. Another nephew for Lils to yell at me about spoiling rotten. Or niece!”
“I’m serious,” James warned. “You have to keep your mouth shut till Christmas.”
“I will, I will,” Sirius assured him. “Oh, speaking of Christmas—“ he lowered his voice “—do you have any gift ideas for Moony? I’m completely blanking.”
“I’m in my early twenties and I own a cane,” a muffled voice came from across the room. “What I want for Christmas is a chiropractic adjustment.”
“Hey, you were supposed to be asleep!” Sirius protested.
“Was. But I’m also a good thespian.” Remus raised his head from his arms and blinked at them, bleary-eyed. “Congratulations, James.”
James sighed. “Evans is going to kill me.”
