fic for sciathan_file: My Bottle of Salvation (Sirius, PG-13)
Title: My Bottle of Salvation
Author: norisis
Recipient: sciathan_file
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Mainly Sirius, but others feature also.
Summary: the fear of being | the joy of living | & the terror of existing | a brief history of Sirius Black through it all, from back to front, death to life.
Warnings: There is some swearing and strong language in the first part and a near-drowning scene towards the end.
Author's Notes: My heartfelt thanks to K. and J. for the thorough beta-reading and moral support! And to my dearest giftee: I tried to incorporate the Black family into a much earlier incarnation of this gift-fic, but Regulus suddenly took over and it didn't quite work out. It took me a while, but I managed to get Sirius to open up to me a little, and I hope you enjoy what came out of it!
--
Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope's true gage ;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
- Sir Walter Raleigh, 'The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage'
5. He Died
Sirius is somewhere in Salford, riding without a helmet. All he has is the hoodie he's wearing beneath his leather jacket, though he knows Lily would sound off on him if she finds out he's been riding without a helmet. It wouldn't matter to her that he doesn't need a helmet, of course, because that's what made Lily Lily, but Sirius finds that he quite likes her for it.
Staggering onto the road are Muggle university students, heading out to celebrate All Hallows' Eve. They're already drunk and shouting amongst themselves, but easy enough to dodge. That's the thing with Muggle kids, all they seem to do is go for parties and rock 'n roll concerts. They aren't that much younger than Sirius, really, but they don't seem to have broken out of their little bubbles of self-absorption just yet.
Funny what fighting on the losing side of a war can do to a person, because Sirius isn't sure he could ever be so truly callous. The closest he'll get is through the bottle of Firewhiskey he's got in the inside pocket of his jacket.
Sirius stops somewhere outside a line of shops, and casts the usual set of security charms and obscuring spells to hide his motorcycle from prying eyes. Pulling his hoodie tighter over his head, he goes through a door between a barber shop and an empty kebab house. There's a staircase that leads up to the flat Peter is supposed to be hiding in.
Slowly he walks up the steep steps, and it comes somewhere between the stair landing and the door to Peter's flat - a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if someone has taken his guts out, doused them in ice, and shoved them back in.
He knocks on the door, but somehow he isn't expecting an answer. He knocks again, anyway. And again.
And again.
A flurry of thoughts and emotions rush into his head, and Sirius doesn't want to think about what this means, so he thinks, fuck.
It seems appropriate, somehow, if there is ever a single word to describe his state of mind in the midst of what must be the cock-up of the century.
A simple Alohomora blasts the door open, when it really shouldn't, not when the occupant of the house pretty much has the fate of the wizarding world in his hands, because he knows where James and Lily Potter are hiding.
It's empty. He turns the place upside down as he searches, but he knows that no matter how hard he tells himself that Peter is here, damn it, it isn't true. And then he starts wondering what the fuck is going on, and it pops in his brain like a bloody freaking revelation.
The bottle of Firewhiskey begins to fall, from where he carelessly left it on the corner edge of the dining table.
Peter is the traitor.
(If he stops to think about it, Sirius might consider the possibility that Peter has been kidnapped.
He doesn't stop to think about it.)
Peter is the traitor. That no-good piece of crap is the traitor, and Voldemort is probably walking the streets of Godric's Hollow even as glass and amber liquid explode onto the floor -
Peter is the traitor.
Fuck.
- and Sirius Black stops breathing.
4. Harry
All he can hear is the sound of his heart, pounding in his ears, as he carefully takes the little bundle of blankets from Lily. Baby Harry stares back at him. His eyes are a startling hue of dark blue.
"Will they change colour," says Sirius, "or is there something you need to tell us about his parentage, Lily?"
James laughs nervously, and Lily tries to smack Sirius, but the smile twitching on her lips wins out in the end.
"He can only be a Potter boy, what with that messy mop of hair," she says, and James and Sirius both grin back.
Harry is actually a rather fat little baby. But Sirius supposes that's what babies are, really... fat, squishy, startlingly red and beautiful despite it all.
"You're going to be his godfather, of course," says James, and Lily nods, wrapping an arm around her husband's waist.
"Thank you," says Sirius, and he looks back down at baby Harry with a wide smile. Suddenly, his heart feels too big for his chest. He knows he's getting covered in warm baby mushiness, but he doesn't care. Suddenly, everything else seems so far away, even the war that has been the only thing on everyone's minds lately.
Sirius decides that he is not going to let this little Potter, this baby, his godson, his godson! grow up in a wizarding world terrorised by war and Voldemort. This is his reason to keep fighting, even when all his friends and comrades seem to be dying around him. His reason to continue rebelling against the ideals of the family that was never truly his - for love of Harry, and Sirius'’s family that is.
3. "Happy Birthday, Sirius"
Of the four friends, Sirius is technically the oldest. His birthday is a rather innocuous little date, 18th November 1959.
It's the year 1976, and it will be his first birthday as a not-Black. He'd run away from home during the summer just past. And once Walburga Black realised that her son was not coming back, despite her threats, she'd sent the family solicitor to inform Sirius that he had been officially disowned as a Black.
It was a rather cold gesture, even for her. And somehow worse than if she'd informed him of the fact via Howler.
Unlike previous years, Sirius makes no mention of his coming birthday. He thinks it will be hard to top the previous year, anyway, when the party in the common room had gotten rather out of hand. Sirius cannot actually remember what happened, just that the common room was utterly trashed and that it took two days to clean it up proper (this was their punishment for 'organising illegal activities', as McGonagall said, once she recovered from her fit).
When he goes to sleep on the 17th, Sirius, thinks about what might have happened if he hadn't run away, and been cast out of the family. A coming out ball would have been planned, where Sirius's parents would have showed off their newly adult son to family and friends - well, that would have been the intention, but Sirius doesn't imagine his parents would be proud of anything he's done. They are long, drawn-out affairs, anyway, ridiculous on the whole. His cousins had all had one; Narcissa and Bellatrix had even gone on to marry their respective partners for the event. Andromeda had only been agreeable to the whole thing because she wanted to keep her parents happy, but that was the last compromise she made to her family. Exactly one year later, on her eighteenth birthday, she left home and married Ted Tonks.
Regulus's turn at the balls would come soon. Pride of the family, and now its proper heir, with Sirius out of the way. Sirius does not feel a tinge of jealousy about that fact - or so he tells himself, as he drifts off into sleep.
It seems his eyes have barely closed when Sirius finds himself shaken awake by Wormtail.
"What is it, Pete?" he snaps irritably, swatting at his friend.
"Follow me," says Peter.
A bit of an argument follows, where Sirius refuses to follow Peter, and Peter tries to force him into it (something that never ends well). Finally Sirius realises that James and Remus aren't in their beds, and he may as well listen to Peter find out what's going on.
Wormtail whips James's Invisibility Cloak around them (or attempts to, it gets tangled and it takes several minutes to untangle themselves), and leads them out of the dormitory, out of the common room, and out of the castle. Into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow, and up into the Shrieking Shack, where James and Remus are seated on the floor.
"Pete, you were supposed to bring him in at five to," says James, exasperated. "It's now five past!"
"Never mind, it doesn't matter," says Remus. Turning to Sirius, he adds, "We meant for you to come in just minutes before midnight -"
"To proper celebrate you coming of age and all," interrupts James.
"I'm... touched," says Sirius. "I think. Although you could have done this in the morning and let me have my sleep, you know."
"Where's the fun in that?" says James, and Remus and Peter both grin in agreement.
They sit in a square of sorts, James facing Sirius with Remus and Peter on either side of them. There is a great big cloth in the middle that is bulges slightly, as if it's hiding something. Each of his friends take turns to draw something out of it - presents, for him. The bounty includes: A box of chocolate frogs, a bottle of Firewhiskey, an enchanted model of a Muggle motorcycle, and several other small things. They make up seventeen in total.
"Since you're turning seventeen, and seventeen is an important age for a wizard," says Peter.
"The most important age, along with eleven," corrects Remus, smiling. "Eleven, for Hogwarts."
"There's one last thing," says James, removing the black drape in the centre of them all, revealing another box, which he removes also. There is a cake underneath, and Sirius is startled to see that it is decorated with a likeness of a Grim.
"House-elves aren't above bribery," says James, and Sirius laughs.
"It isn't a birthday without cake," he agrees.
Sirius leans back slightly, watching his friends argue as they attempt to light seventeen candles on the cake. A warmth seems to envelope him, but not so much from the candles. He laughs a little as his friends begin to sing "Happy Birthday". He usually hates the silliness of it all, these rituals… and they know he hates it, but they don't care. He is surprised to find that presently, he doesn't, either. Despite his earlier words, he has never had proper birthday cake before. Well - there had been cake, as pudding for birthday teas and such. No songs or joy ever went with it, though.
Finally it is time for Sirius to blow out the candles, but not before Remus reminds him to make a wish.
I wish that this night will never end.
Leaning over the candles, he lets out the deep breath he didn't realise he was holding. It takes a while, but all the little flames extinguish, and Sirius looks up. In the dark, he can still see the faces of his friends, silhouettes shining with bright smiles. James leans forward and claps a hand on Sirius's shoulder.
"Happy birthday, Sirius."
2. Padfoot
He's free!
Padfoot runs through the Forbidden Forest, leading the chase for the Rat, and it's a close chase because he can hear the hooves of the Stag on his right and he can feel the rippling of the Wolf's fur in the wind on his left - and the smells! The green scent of the Forest's trees and the sweetness of the flowers, even the smell of Hagrid's burning treacle fudge all the way beyond the edge of the forest - he smells everything, he knows everything, and it's exhilarating.
And he laughs, loud joyous barks that are echoed by the Wolf's howls and the Stag's roars, and possibly the Rat's squeaks. Above them the moon is full, with disapproval if she might be so inclined. But such is the way of dogs, loyal creatures that flourish with companionship.
Thus Padfoot runs with the brothers of his heart, fit to burst with a giddy contentment that is much too simple for his human counterpart.
He's free.
1. Breathe
There's a short, nervous sort of chap on Sirius's boat who looks like he's going to vomit. Sirius thinks his name might be Peter. And the boy asking Peter if he's alright there, that's possibly a Remus or Romulus or something like that. The fourth boy on the boat is most definitely a James, however, a James Potter who aspires to Gryffindor house. Sirius quite likes James, they met on the train to Hogwarts.
(It wasn't the stuff of legends, really, that first meeting. The connection was not quite instantaneous; they'd just talked about the usual things, like Quidditch. They didn't bond over anything in particular... except the condescension of that greasy-haired Slytherin wannabe, maybe. Sirius thinks he might have a friend in James. He's never had a friend before - well, there is Regulus, but he doesn't count.)
Lake-sick Peter is probably more trouble than he's worth, but Sirius likes to think he's a good sort. He stretches an arm out to pull Peter back, back into the safe confines of their little boat. It's never too late in the day for a little act of heroic courtesy.
He's not quite sure how it all happens, but figures it's probably his cockiness coming back to bite him in the arse, as his mother often said would happen.
(She didn't use those words, of course. Sirius never really listened, anyway, having decided a while ago that there is no real difference between cockiness and proper Black hauteur.)
So they fall, Peter and Sirius, not with grace but the clumsiness of trolls into the icy clear waters of the Hogwarts Lake.
There's minor chaos above the surface, as first-years panic to see two of their peers engulfed by the apparent monster of the lake, but underneath, the water is peaceful. Eerie, too, but mostly peaceful.
A massive (Sirius blinks, to double-check this) tentacle lifts Peter out of the water and as the water settles behind them, Sirius can see James looking at him. Well, he thinks it is James. He can't quite tell, with all that refraction, all those water-shafted rays of the half-moon.
(Sirius thinks, Gryffindor can't be so bad, if people like him are going to be in it, can it? )
Maybe-James's face blurs out, and his hand breaks through the water.
Buoyed up and pulled down by the water, Sirius floats and he drowns. He stares at pale fingers, throbbing with blood and flowing with life, and he reaches -
And James Potter pulls him up, through the surface, out into the glorious, freezing wind; it's colder up here than it was in the water but Sirius doesn't care because
his lungs
are
burning
and he opens his mouth and
He breathes.
Author: norisis
Recipient: sciathan_file
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Mainly Sirius, but others feature also.
Summary: the fear of being | the joy of living | & the terror of existing | a brief history of Sirius Black through it all, from back to front, death to life.
Warnings: There is some swearing and strong language in the first part and a near-drowning scene towards the end.
Author's Notes: My heartfelt thanks to K. and J. for the thorough beta-reading and moral support! And to my dearest giftee: I tried to incorporate the Black family into a much earlier incarnation of this gift-fic, but Regulus suddenly took over and it didn't quite work out. It took me a while, but I managed to get Sirius to open up to me a little, and I hope you enjoy what came out of it!
--
Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope's true gage ;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
- Sir Walter Raleigh, 'The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage'
5. He Died
Sirius is somewhere in Salford, riding without a helmet. All he has is the hoodie he's wearing beneath his leather jacket, though he knows Lily would sound off on him if she finds out he's been riding without a helmet. It wouldn't matter to her that he doesn't need a helmet, of course, because that's what made Lily Lily, but Sirius finds that he quite likes her for it.
Staggering onto the road are Muggle university students, heading out to celebrate All Hallows' Eve. They're already drunk and shouting amongst themselves, but easy enough to dodge. That's the thing with Muggle kids, all they seem to do is go for parties and rock 'n roll concerts. They aren't that much younger than Sirius, really, but they don't seem to have broken out of their little bubbles of self-absorption just yet.
Funny what fighting on the losing side of a war can do to a person, because Sirius isn't sure he could ever be so truly callous. The closest he'll get is through the bottle of Firewhiskey he's got in the inside pocket of his jacket.
Sirius stops somewhere outside a line of shops, and casts the usual set of security charms and obscuring spells to hide his motorcycle from prying eyes. Pulling his hoodie tighter over his head, he goes through a door between a barber shop and an empty kebab house. There's a staircase that leads up to the flat Peter is supposed to be hiding in.
Slowly he walks up the steep steps, and it comes somewhere between the stair landing and the door to Peter's flat - a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if someone has taken his guts out, doused them in ice, and shoved them back in.
He knocks on the door, but somehow he isn't expecting an answer. He knocks again, anyway. And again.
And again.
A flurry of thoughts and emotions rush into his head, and Sirius doesn't want to think about what this means, so he thinks, fuck.
It seems appropriate, somehow, if there is ever a single word to describe his state of mind in the midst of what must be the cock-up of the century.
A simple Alohomora blasts the door open, when it really shouldn't, not when the occupant of the house pretty much has the fate of the wizarding world in his hands, because he knows where James and Lily Potter are hiding.
It's empty. He turns the place upside down as he searches, but he knows that no matter how hard he tells himself that Peter is here, damn it, it isn't true. And then he starts wondering what the fuck is going on, and it pops in his brain like a bloody freaking revelation.
The bottle of Firewhiskey begins to fall, from where he carelessly left it on the corner edge of the dining table.
Peter is the traitor.
(If he stops to think about it, Sirius might consider the possibility that Peter has been kidnapped.
He doesn't stop to think about it.)
Peter is the traitor. That no-good piece of crap is the traitor, and Voldemort is probably walking the streets of Godric's Hollow even as glass and amber liquid explode onto the floor -
Peter is the traitor.
Fuck.
- and Sirius Black stops breathing.
4. Harry
All he can hear is the sound of his heart, pounding in his ears, as he carefully takes the little bundle of blankets from Lily. Baby Harry stares back at him. His eyes are a startling hue of dark blue.
"Will they change colour," says Sirius, "or is there something you need to tell us about his parentage, Lily?"
James laughs nervously, and Lily tries to smack Sirius, but the smile twitching on her lips wins out in the end.
"He can only be a Potter boy, what with that messy mop of hair," she says, and James and Sirius both grin back.
Harry is actually a rather fat little baby. But Sirius supposes that's what babies are, really... fat, squishy, startlingly red and beautiful despite it all.
"You're going to be his godfather, of course," says James, and Lily nods, wrapping an arm around her husband's waist.
"Thank you," says Sirius, and he looks back down at baby Harry with a wide smile. Suddenly, his heart feels too big for his chest. He knows he's getting covered in warm baby mushiness, but he doesn't care. Suddenly, everything else seems so far away, even the war that has been the only thing on everyone's minds lately.
Sirius decides that he is not going to let this little Potter, this baby, his godson, his godson! grow up in a wizarding world terrorised by war and Voldemort. This is his reason to keep fighting, even when all his friends and comrades seem to be dying around him. His reason to continue rebelling against the ideals of the family that was never truly his - for love of Harry, and Sirius'’s family that is.
3. "Happy Birthday, Sirius"
Of the four friends, Sirius is technically the oldest. His birthday is a rather innocuous little date, 18th November 1959.
It's the year 1976, and it will be his first birthday as a not-Black. He'd run away from home during the summer just past. And once Walburga Black realised that her son was not coming back, despite her threats, she'd sent the family solicitor to inform Sirius that he had been officially disowned as a Black.
It was a rather cold gesture, even for her. And somehow worse than if she'd informed him of the fact via Howler.
Unlike previous years, Sirius makes no mention of his coming birthday. He thinks it will be hard to top the previous year, anyway, when the party in the common room had gotten rather out of hand. Sirius cannot actually remember what happened, just that the common room was utterly trashed and that it took two days to clean it up proper (this was their punishment for 'organising illegal activities', as McGonagall said, once she recovered from her fit).
When he goes to sleep on the 17th, Sirius, thinks about what might have happened if he hadn't run away, and been cast out of the family. A coming out ball would have been planned, where Sirius's parents would have showed off their newly adult son to family and friends - well, that would have been the intention, but Sirius doesn't imagine his parents would be proud of anything he's done. They are long, drawn-out affairs, anyway, ridiculous on the whole. His cousins had all had one; Narcissa and Bellatrix had even gone on to marry their respective partners for the event. Andromeda had only been agreeable to the whole thing because she wanted to keep her parents happy, but that was the last compromise she made to her family. Exactly one year later, on her eighteenth birthday, she left home and married Ted Tonks.
Regulus's turn at the balls would come soon. Pride of the family, and now its proper heir, with Sirius out of the way. Sirius does not feel a tinge of jealousy about that fact - or so he tells himself, as he drifts off into sleep.
It seems his eyes have barely closed when Sirius finds himself shaken awake by Wormtail.
"What is it, Pete?" he snaps irritably, swatting at his friend.
"Follow me," says Peter.
A bit of an argument follows, where Sirius refuses to follow Peter, and Peter tries to force him into it (something that never ends well). Finally Sirius realises that James and Remus aren't in their beds, and he may as well listen to Peter find out what's going on.
Wormtail whips James's Invisibility Cloak around them (or attempts to, it gets tangled and it takes several minutes to untangle themselves), and leads them out of the dormitory, out of the common room, and out of the castle. Into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow, and up into the Shrieking Shack, where James and Remus are seated on the floor.
"Pete, you were supposed to bring him in at five to," says James, exasperated. "It's now five past!"
"Never mind, it doesn't matter," says Remus. Turning to Sirius, he adds, "We meant for you to come in just minutes before midnight -"
"To proper celebrate you coming of age and all," interrupts James.
"I'm... touched," says Sirius. "I think. Although you could have done this in the morning and let me have my sleep, you know."
"Where's the fun in that?" says James, and Remus and Peter both grin in agreement.
They sit in a square of sorts, James facing Sirius with Remus and Peter on either side of them. There is a great big cloth in the middle that is bulges slightly, as if it's hiding something. Each of his friends take turns to draw something out of it - presents, for him. The bounty includes: A box of chocolate frogs, a bottle of Firewhiskey, an enchanted model of a Muggle motorcycle, and several other small things. They make up seventeen in total.
"Since you're turning seventeen, and seventeen is an important age for a wizard," says Peter.
"The most important age, along with eleven," corrects Remus, smiling. "Eleven, for Hogwarts."
"There's one last thing," says James, removing the black drape in the centre of them all, revealing another box, which he removes also. There is a cake underneath, and Sirius is startled to see that it is decorated with a likeness of a Grim.
"House-elves aren't above bribery," says James, and Sirius laughs.
"It isn't a birthday without cake," he agrees.
Sirius leans back slightly, watching his friends argue as they attempt to light seventeen candles on the cake. A warmth seems to envelope him, but not so much from the candles. He laughs a little as his friends begin to sing "Happy Birthday". He usually hates the silliness of it all, these rituals… and they know he hates it, but they don't care. He is surprised to find that presently, he doesn't, either. Despite his earlier words, he has never had proper birthday cake before. Well - there had been cake, as pudding for birthday teas and such. No songs or joy ever went with it, though.
Finally it is time for Sirius to blow out the candles, but not before Remus reminds him to make a wish.
I wish that this night will never end.
Leaning over the candles, he lets out the deep breath he didn't realise he was holding. It takes a while, but all the little flames extinguish, and Sirius looks up. In the dark, he can still see the faces of his friends, silhouettes shining with bright smiles. James leans forward and claps a hand on Sirius's shoulder.
"Happy birthday, Sirius."
2. Padfoot
He's free!
Padfoot runs through the Forbidden Forest, leading the chase for the Rat, and it's a close chase because he can hear the hooves of the Stag on his right and he can feel the rippling of the Wolf's fur in the wind on his left - and the smells! The green scent of the Forest's trees and the sweetness of the flowers, even the smell of Hagrid's burning treacle fudge all the way beyond the edge of the forest - he smells everything, he knows everything, and it's exhilarating.
And he laughs, loud joyous barks that are echoed by the Wolf's howls and the Stag's roars, and possibly the Rat's squeaks. Above them the moon is full, with disapproval if she might be so inclined. But such is the way of dogs, loyal creatures that flourish with companionship.
Thus Padfoot runs with the brothers of his heart, fit to burst with a giddy contentment that is much too simple for his human counterpart.
He's free.
1. Breathe
There's a short, nervous sort of chap on Sirius's boat who looks like he's going to vomit. Sirius thinks his name might be Peter. And the boy asking Peter if he's alright there, that's possibly a Remus or Romulus or something like that. The fourth boy on the boat is most definitely a James, however, a James Potter who aspires to Gryffindor house. Sirius quite likes James, they met on the train to Hogwarts.
(It wasn't the stuff of legends, really, that first meeting. The connection was not quite instantaneous; they'd just talked about the usual things, like Quidditch. They didn't bond over anything in particular... except the condescension of that greasy-haired Slytherin wannabe, maybe. Sirius thinks he might have a friend in James. He's never had a friend before - well, there is Regulus, but he doesn't count.)
Lake-sick Peter is probably more trouble than he's worth, but Sirius likes to think he's a good sort. He stretches an arm out to pull Peter back, back into the safe confines of their little boat. It's never too late in the day for a little act of heroic courtesy.
He's not quite sure how it all happens, but figures it's probably his cockiness coming back to bite him in the arse, as his mother often said would happen.
(She didn't use those words, of course. Sirius never really listened, anyway, having decided a while ago that there is no real difference between cockiness and proper Black hauteur.)
So they fall, Peter and Sirius, not with grace but the clumsiness of trolls into the icy clear waters of the Hogwarts Lake.
There's minor chaos above the surface, as first-years panic to see two of their peers engulfed by the apparent monster of the lake, but underneath, the water is peaceful. Eerie, too, but mostly peaceful.
A massive (Sirius blinks, to double-check this) tentacle lifts Peter out of the water and as the water settles behind them, Sirius can see James looking at him. Well, he thinks it is James. He can't quite tell, with all that refraction, all those water-shafted rays of the half-moon.
(Sirius thinks, Gryffindor can't be so bad, if people like him are going to be in it, can it? )
Maybe-James's face blurs out, and his hand breaks through the water.
Buoyed up and pulled down by the water, Sirius floats and he drowns. He stares at pale fingers, throbbing with blood and flowing with life, and he reaches -
And James Potter pulls him up, through the surface, out into the glorious, freezing wind; it's colder up here than it was in the water but Sirius doesn't care because
his lungs
are
burning
and he opens his mouth and
He breathes.