Harry Potter - "All Narrow Jealousies" - Part 2 - James/Lily/Sirius/Remus/Peter - NC-17
Title: All Narrow Jealousies
Author: marseverlasting
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: James/Lily/Sirius/Remus/Peter (various permutations of)
Word Count: 13,501 words
Summary: When Lily discovers she's pregnant, a carefully balanced dynamic begins to unravel between the one she loves, the other one she loves, the other one she loves, and the other one she loves. A fractal portrait of five people in one relationship.
Warnings: adultery, Peter being attractive, too much love, Sirius.
Author's notes: Written for a_merry_chase for hp_springsmut. So many thanks to my Dylan Thomas, for inspiration, hand-holding, and general perfection. Title comes from Tennyson's superb Idylls of the King, from the bit where he gets all gay for Prince Albert.
Part 1
*
Bright sunlight.
Sirius rolls over in bed, pressing his face into the pillow. His head hurts. A lot. Last night revolves in his mind in a blurry scroll of half-images and disappointments. He gets up, naked and sick and pale, and stumbles his way to the bathroom. James is showering, humming absently and loud, shampooing his hair, and Sirius pukes in the toilet.
"Morning," James says, turning under the spray just as Sirius empties his stomach into the bowl. "Rough night?"
"You were there," Sirius replies in a deadened tone, spitting a few times as his stomach finally settles. "Why aren't you sick."
James turns off the shower and gets out. He touches the top of Sirius' head fleetingly before wrapping a towel around his waist and starting to brush his teeth.
Sirius wipes his mouth off with a square of toilet paper and flushes. He stands next to James at the sink, hunched forward and shivering with sick, staring down into the sink. He splashes water over his face a few times, cups his hands and takes a few careful drinks.
"You don't look good," James says, spitting out his toothpaste. He digs into the medicine cabinet and produces two tablets which he presses into Sirius' hand. "Take these."
Sirius swallows them dry.
"Why are there no aspirins in the jungle?" James asks gently.
Sirius looks at James wearily. "What?"
"Because the parrots eat 'em all." James gives a flushed smile. "Get it?"
"I'm going back to bed," Sirius says. He stumbles back into the bedroom and collapses into his covers. Of course he can't sleep, his mind buzzing and throbbing as it is, his body convulsing in fits of shivers, his throat dry and his tongue foul. Sirius groans and rolls over, clasping his pillow over his face. The bed next to him is empty.
"Where's Remus?" he asks of James.
James stands in the bathroom doorway, toweling his hair lazily. "Didn't he tell you?"
"No."
James shakes his head. "You ask him, I think he'll be back at noon."
"Tell me what?"
"It's not my place to say, Sirius," James replies, dropping the towel and twisting it again around his waist. "He'll tell you himself."
"James," Sirius says heavily, trying as best he can to sit up without being sick again. "Is something wrong? What the hell is going on?"
James sits on the edge of Sirius' bed. He sighs heavily and plays with his wet hair, tossing it back so it flops about in soggy spikes. He leans over to press his elbows to his knees, resting his forehead in the linked web of his hands. "What exactly happened between you two?"
Sirius reddens and slides back against his headboard. Dizziness overwhelms him and he falls back into his pillows, shivering awfully again. "I don't know."
"You didn't try anything, did you?" James asks with darkened eyes.
"No." Sirius pauses, runs a hand over his face and leaves it pressed over his eyes. "Yes."
"Oh, for god's sake, Sirius."
"What?" He drops the hand and looks at James dead-on, liquid eyes and trembling lips. "It was just a game."
James shakes his head. "You are so - so -"
Sirius twists away from James, turning his back to his friend. "I'm going to sleep."
James sighs with the exasperation of nine years of knowing Sirius. "Don't you get it? At all?" Sirius doesn't say anything. "He loves you, Sirius."
"So?"
James sighs. "I mean, really loves you."
Sirius turns about again and looks at James. His eyes are half-closed, eyelashes beaded with tears. "He what?" A pause. "Why? How?"
"Oh," James says, "it's not so hard."
"How do you know?" Sirius asks sullenly.
"It's not a secret, Sirius." James pauses on that thought. "Well, maybe except from you."
"I've fucked things up, haven't I." Sirius sighs and draws his blankets under his chin. "I've fucked things up."
"Yes, you have." James leans over and strokes Sirius' hair gingerly. "But it's not unfixable."
"Where is he, James?"
James frowns. "He's moving out."
"He's what?"
James exhales sharply. "Moving out. He's collecting his things at lunch. He won't be far, just going down to Mount Street." Sirius blinks slowly. "Says he needs some privacy, to do his work."
"Some privacy from me, you mean." Sirius says in a deadened tone. "Because of last night?"
"Well, he didn't specify," James says carefully. "I think he had been planning this for a few weeks. He had the place rented out already."
"Oh."
"Yeah." James gives a half-smile. "I guess he's the only one smart enough to get out of this house."
"I suppose," Sirius replies.
"It's not that we don't love each other," James explains simply, "it's just that - being in such close quarters, all the time -"
"I know." Sirius leans up in bed, crosses his legs and draws his blankets around his naked body, across his shoulders and over his waist. He leans in to James, pressing his forehead dully against the hard of his shoulder.
"You'll talk to him, won't you?" James says.
"Yeah, when he comes in."
"Good." James strokes Sirius' hair lightly. "You know, as crazy as it is, I don't want to leave you guys. It's too - it's the war, and if something were to happen -"
"Nothing's going to happen. We'll be safe James, even if we aren't always together."
"I suppose," James says quietly, suddenly aware of his proximity to Sirius. "I just don't want to imagine what - could happen."
"Then don't." It's a convenient line for an in, so Sirius leans towards James, cleverly tilting his head to catch his friend's gaze. Sirius presses gently onwards and traps James' lips with his own, a shallow little kiss that lingers maybe longer than a friendly kiss should. Sirius pulls back with a wet smack and regards his handiwork; James' red-flushed cheeks, the goosepimples that prick up along his shoulders and arms, the erection he knows is pressing beneath the cotton of his towel. Sirius, with a light touch, traces the knot of James towel; he kisses James again, deeper and with a sharp intake of shocking breath.
"Sirius," James mumbles behind Sirius' lips, which dissolves the kiss at once.
"It's my turn, I guess," Sirius says, tracing his fingers over the flat plane of James' stomach. "Hand or mouth?"
"No, Sirius. I haven't told you something."
"Tell me it later," Sirius continues, tugging the towel from James' hips. "Unless it's dirty."
"No." And James catches Sirius' wrist gently. "It's something important." His grip transfers from wrist to hand, threading his fingers with Sirius' carefully. "I'm making a change."
"A change?"
"In my life. We can't do this anymore."
"Do what?"
"Mess around." James says it simply, and without shame
"Why not?"
"Lily's pregnant." It comes out in a rush, and immediately James smiles broadly. "She's pregnant, Sirius." The now-familiar grin in his eyes forms again, and he seems to positively shine with an inner force. "And I need to act more - fatherly."
"Lily's pregnant?" Sirius says in a thin monotone.
"Yeah." James grins, tosses and easy arm over Sirius' shoulder. "C'mon, man, it's a good thing. It's a good thing. We have a kid."
Sirius swallows, turns to tilt his head into James' shoulder. "And - this means - stopping?"
"What we have is amazing, Sirius, and I'm not stopping that at all. I'm just stopping the - the frivolousness, the sex - which is great, by the way, thumbs up. It's just - not you. I can't. Not now, not when I'm going to become a dad." He kisses the palm of Sirius' hand. "You understand, don't you?"
Sirius nods, though sadness still lingers about his face. He flops back down onto his pillow and watches as James pulls on a pair of Sirius' boxers, slinging on an Oxford shirt, though neglecting to button it up.
"I'd like to take you out," Sirius says suddenly.
"Take me out?"
"Tea, at Claridge's. My treat."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
James flashes a grin. "Yes, of course."
"Good."
"Are you going back to sleep?"
"Yes."
James nods and leaves the bedroom; lingering at the door he says: "Don't forget to talk to Remus."
"I won't."
*
All of Remus' stuff fits in two suitcases. Lily helps him take them downstairs. She hugs him very tight at the door, and almost cries, and tells him that he doesn't have to go, that he can stay and they can figure stuff out. Remus says he'll come back a lot, it's just he can't keep up with everything he needs to do with - distractions. It's raining outside, so Remus pulls on James' nice overcoat and promises he'll return it the next day.
"Of course," Lily says, hugging him tightly once more. "Please, you know you don't have to go."
Remus smiles. "I know." He turns to the mirror and absently brushes his hair away, of course making it messier in the process. "I'll be at headquarters tonight, for the meeting."
"James and I are going," Lily tells him. "Now, where the hell is Sirius."
"Upstairs, I imagine," Remus says quietly. "He was very hungover, James said."
"Still sleeping?" Lily asks.
"Yes," he replies.
"Want me to wake him?"
"No," he replies. "I think it's better we see each other in a few days."
"What has he done now?" she asks.
"Nothing unusual." And then Remus smiles and leans in and kisses Lily on the cheek. "Congratulations, by the way."
She flushes bright red, and her hand instinctively reaches for her stomach. "Yes. Well." And then she breaks into a grand smile. "Thank you. Thanks," and then she leans in and kisses Remus on the mouth. Three times, she does, and the last time long, lingering with the taste of him. "Thank you."
"You'll tell Peter and Sirius goodbye for me?"
"I will," she says. "Oh, Remus, be careful."
"I'm ten minutes away," he says, and then kisses her once more on the cheek. "I'll see you, Lily."
She watches him get into the taxi, watches the car peal off, watches the rain fall outside.
*
"You're late."
"Dumbledore showed up after you left," James says, closing his umbrella and stepping into Claridge's lobby. "There's been some movement and he needed Peter to set up a new outpost. He's there until tomorrow."
"Ah," Sirius says, touching James' shoulder, a touch that stretches to cup his cheek fleetingly. "Shall we get a seat."
They check their coats. Sirius is dressed smartly, a button up black shirt, ribbed and buttoned with gilded silver, dull diamantes in the French cuffs. James too, in a starched white Ben Sherman button-front with black velvet waistcoat. Sirius plucks a carnation from the bowl at the front desk and sends it through one of James' button-holes.
"You look good," Sirius says.
"Yeah, thanks."
The reading room is decorated in black and white and gold art deco, sharp and fragmented, softened only slightly by the rounded marble of a handful of nude Grecian statues, standing guardian over the diners like Don Giovanni's stone guest. The room is filled with the lingering scent of lilac and bergamot, complimented by the sound of a Saint-Saëns swan being conjured beautifully by a single cello. The boys sit by a fire, in plush chairs of black velvet laced here and there by curlicues of gold thread. It's a room that reminds James very much of Sirius; skill and beauty, rich in taste and excess.
An attractive waiter brings a list of the teas; two pages of exquisite, unheard-of blends - Assam and Ceylon, of course, but with that Golden Needle and Nilgiri, Koyu Rize and even freshly-picked, first flush Keemun. James orders a simple Earl Grey, and Sirius opts for Darjeeling White. The tea arrives with fluffy, airy scones; rich bowls of clotted cream and sinfully sweat jams.
"I haven't been here since I was a kid," James says, biting into one of the scones. "Good god, this is amazing."
"Religious," Sirius agrees, slathering his with cream. "I used to bring Remus here all the time. I never thought you'd like it."
"I like it," James says. "They even have a live cellist. This is - wow. Expensive."
Sirius waves him off. "I like to spend."
They eat, finish their first cups of tea. The waiter returns with the list, and they choose two new teas, exploring the more fanciful options.
"You didn't talk to Remus," James says, finishing his second scone. "You said you would."
"I was asleep," Sirius says, his expression slackening notably. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me," James says. And then: "I can't believe he'd go, though. I mean, actually go."
"Maybe this isn't about me," Sirius says sharply.
James looks down at his plate. "I'm sorry. It's just." He sighs. "I don't want us to split up."
"We won't."
"I really don't want us to split up."
"We won't," Sirius repeats.
And then James looks up, and there are tears in his eyes. "I'm going to ask Lily to marry me."
Sirius doesn't drop his fork with a clatter. Sirius doesn't open his mouth wide with shock. Sirius doesn't scream, or leap out of his seat, or even smile. He just looks at James and says, "Yeah."
James narrows his glance. "Yeah?"
"Well, I expected it."
"Well, you could act happy."
"I am happy."
James leans back in his chair, licking jam from his fingers. "You don't act it."
"It's just kind of permanent is all," Sirius says.
"Of course it is," James says. "So is a baby."
"I just - I didn't think you would, I didn't think you'd need to," Sirius says quietly, drinking his tea. "What with us - and me - and you and Lily and - Remus and Peter."
"What - what us?"
"You know that Woody Allen quote?"
The irritation leaves James voice, and suddenly James finds his voice warm and low. "Which?"
"You know, from the book - sex between a man and a woman can be absolutely wonderful, provided you get between the right man and the right woman."
James can't help but snort. "Yeah."
Sirius looks into his cup, unable to meet James' glance. "I kind of thought that was us."
"What?"
"Not - like, sex," Sirius says. "Well, I mean, not always." He drains the rest of his tea, and finally looks up at James. "I thought we were kind of - like, it was all of us, in a - not relationship, but together. It was all of us, all together. Not just - you and Lily." James moves to talk, but Sirius interrupts, "- I know, it's absurd. I just, I kind of liked being in love with everyone."
"Oh."
"But, I'm happy for you. Of course I am. I knew it would happen eventually. And what with Remus moving out. It looks like this relationship wasn't meant to last."
"What, the five of us?"
"Yeah." And then Sirius finally smiles, a warm, full smile. "It's just. I was in love. With everything. With us. With the five of us, I was in love. And I liked it. And I loved you. I guess it couldn't last forever."
"We'll always have Paris," James suggests. And then they laugh together.
"Can I tell you something?" James says in an undertone.
"Of course."
"Peter kissed me."
"What? When!"
"Two nights ago, when we got a little - drunk."
"No fucking joke."
"No fucking joke," James agrees. "Even tried to - er, have me off."
"Peter. Our Peter?"
"Yeah."
Sirius laughs. "Wow. The things proximity can do to you, eh?"
"You don't think he was serious?"
"Come on," Sirius says dismissively, "it's Peter. It's Peter. He's a six beer queer, that's all. And I mean, who wouldn't want to have my James off," Sirius adds, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
They order a new set of teas and scones, lingering back in the warm comfort of their chairs, exchanging laughing glances from time to time. James excuses himself to the bathroom; when he returns, he's smiling broadly.
"Holy shit, Sirius, the bathrooms. They have attendants. To fill the basins for you. And they give you fresh towels. And they offer a spritz of cologne if you want. It's amazing here."
"You're cute when you act all naïve."
"What?"
"I mean, I grew up like this." Sirius laughs. "And you're so excited. It's funny. When you play your wedding, we'll have to get all this, you know - attendants and music and fancy towels, even."
"So you'll come to the wedding?" James asks smiling wide.
Sirius nods. "Yeah, of course. I'll pay for it, too."
"Brilliant." James grins and grabs Sirius' hand. "There's something else too. I've kinda been talking with Lily, and we kind of want you - we'd like it if you -" James swallows his anxiety and tries again: "We'd like it if you were to be Godfather. To our baby."
"Godfather?" The word lingers in his throat, husky and raw; it feels wrong, and acidic, and more painful than he could have imagined a word could feel.
"Yes," James says uncertainly. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, it was just a thought."
Sirius feels his eyes prickle, and his cheeks flush, and his fingers itch. "You want me to be Godfather?"
"Yeah."
Sirius looks at James' hopeful face, watches the shifting brightness in his eyes, feels the anxious way he jiggles his knee under the table, the sudden warmth of his hand when they thread fingers. And he knows, in that one moment, looking at that one boy, that Sirius could never tell James the truth.
"Yes, of course."
*
Remus' apartment is small and spartan, but not without its warmth. Baroque reproductions deck nearly every wall; Cortona and Rubens and Caravaggio. Books cover many of the surfaces, and even more are layered with notes and papers and essays and correspondences, all to do with the war. Dumbledore's loopy script stands out the most as Sirius leafs through them absently.
"Do you like it here, then?" he asks, taking a drink from his glass of wine.
"It's very helpful," Remus says, pouring himself a glass. "I can get work done."
"But you're alone."
"Yes," Remus says nodding. "I am alone."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"It's not like I'm alone all the time. I mean, I see you almost every day anyway."
"Were you unhappy?"
"It wasn't that, Sirius," Remus replies, sitting in one of the large armchairs. "I just needed some time alone, I think."
"You could have asked."
"And would you have given it to me?" Remus retorts.
"Of course!"
Remus shakes his head. "Have you seen Grey Gardens?"
"Of course, we saw it together."
"Well, we were like that, Sirius. Not just you and me. All of us."
"I don't get it."
"Think about it. In the movie, they were - the women had lived for so long together at Grey Gardens. They were so close, with such immediate proximity that almost all of their boundaries were gone. They had lived together for so long that nothing was taboo. Everything was honest, upfront, even if it shouldn't be. But, because of that, they made just as many barriers as they destroyed - emotional barriers, barriers in their relationship. Because they were so open, they couldn't - we couldn't talk about certain things. We couldn't connect. That's us, Sirius. That's all of us."
Sirius looks down into his wine. "I know, I know."
"You don't, though," Remus says. "You don't really get it. We can't grow like that, Sirius. We can't grow. Not stuck together, not in each others' business, not falling in love with everyone -" he pauses, considers his words as if he never meant to say them. "We can't grow like this. We can't fight if all we want is - us."
"Did you love me?"
"Did I?" Remus shakes his head. "Do I."
"Do you?"
"I'm not answering that, Sirius."
"Do you?"
Remus pauses. "You're my Waterloo."
"I'm your what?"
"You're my Waterloo, Sirius. You - you hang over my head. You're my final defeat." Maybe it's the wine going to his head, flushing Remus red with false-courage, finally saying things he's thought of for years. Or maybe it's Sirius, his proximity, the loose buttons of his shirt collar and the browned skin beneath.
"Can you answer my question?" Sirius puts his wine down on the paper-loaded coffee table. He kneels in front of Remus, leaning up to touch the boy's hair carefully, pushing it to one side.
"We can't grow like this," Remus repeats, nuzzling into the touch.
"I can learn."
"I do love you," Remus says very carefully.
"I love you too."
"Have you always?"
"Of course. I've loved you all."
And then they kiss. And maybe, finally, Remus has lost the battle. All things considered, it's not so bad.
*
They're on patrol by Berkley Square at two in the morning.
James falls into Lily like a crashing wave, kissing her roughly on the mouth, the cheeks, back against her ear where he whispers, whispers dirt and sex and things he's done and things he wants to do and dreams of doing to her and with her and on her.
Lily hikes her skirt up, feels the rough brick of the wall scratch against her bare shoulders when James lifts her, keeps her pressed statically between him and the side of the building. He's frantic at the buttons of her shirt, trying to undo them one-handed as the other holds her bum, keeping her tied and tangled around him.
He spreads her shirt open, kisses the tops of her breasts greedily, licking and biting the pale-freckled skin above her pink bra. In retaliation, she undoes the buttons of James' waistcoat, his shirt, let's them fall open so she can scratch viciously with one hand the skin of his chest, slicing red welts into him as he grinds powerfully against her, groaning and growling and, and, and.
*
Sirius kisses Remus with a new warmth, a confident warmth. He straddles Remus in the chair and leans into him, pressing their chests together and their lips together, hands tangled in hair and bodies locked together tight.
"Do you want me to?" Sirius asks in honeyed tones. "See, I'm asking. I'm learning."
Remus smiles, more than a touch embarrassed. "I do."
Sirius grins, and kisses him again, his body moving elegantly, skillfully, rolling into him like a wave, trapping mouths and hands together.
*
Peter kneels.
"And you'll keep them safe, my Lord?" Peter asks.
"For now."
"I'll tell you anything you want, my Lord. Just keep James safe."
"For now."
"Promise me," Peter cries.
"You will call me Lord."
"Please, promise me, my Lord."
"I will keep him safe, Pettigrew. Now rise, and show me your arm."
*
"Fuck," James gasps, sliding into Lily, a word she mirrors on a breath.
He presses her against the alley wall, and her hands dig into his shoulders like talons, scraping and clawing, or else pressing their lips painfully together, letting herself get pushed, pushed, scraped against the raw brick wall.
James builds in quick rhythm, his glasses askew, his hands holding her up, his legs flexing as he pushes and wants and fights. Lily can feel that familiar warm crescendo rise in her stomach, that roaring, tingling sensation in her chest and throat and mouth and, and, and.
*
Sirius pulls off Remus' shirt, pulls off his own. He undoes his trousers and let's them fall with a dull clatter to the floor. Remus does the same, hoisting himself up to pull them off, so now they're both naked and standing and staring and watching each other and warm.
Sirius straddles Remus once more, surging with heat as they touch fever-hot and naked, and kisses him deeply, wetly, matching tongues and tempers, their hips rolling against and against, kissing and learning, both.
*
Peter lies in his bed, naked under the covers, a couple of candles burning on his bedside table. He has red-rimmed eyes from old tears, and he stares unblinkingly at his arm, at the curling black snake and skull that slowly writhe in the candlelight.
*
James can feel it, and Lily too; their rhythm is ferocious and erratic, their need all-encompassing, a bonfire in their stomachs, and James moves as best he can, and Lily holds on to him through it all, riding it out, riding him out and their want and their love.
And as he comes, and as she comes, it starts to rain, the first few drops falling on them, falling on their hair and their faces and their half-naked chests and legs and arms. They laugh, and it starts to pour, and they don't let go; James just slowly lets Lily to the ground, and they stay pressed in tight embrace, back to the wall kissing slowly as they're drenched from head to foot.
"I love you," she says, tasting the rain and James on her lips. "I want to get married."
"Let's get married," James agrees. And that's it. That's the proposition, and it really doesn't get better than that. They kiss again, and whisper loves again.
And Berkeley Square was empty, though James swore he could hear a nightingale, just one, singing a little song.
*
They come together, as it should be, still linked on that chair, Sirius still straddling Remus, four hands wrapped around them, sliding together, slowly, carefully, pulling the best of them together, lips locked incessantly, kissing and needing as they bring themselves to comfort.
They come in the quietest of growls, not a great explosion, just a blissful release. And when they finish, when their shoulders loosen with the warm-blooded flow of afterglow, the rain begins to beat against the window pane. They sit there, still kissing, still together, listening to it fall.
*
Peter waits for James and Lily to come home before falling asleep. He doesn't manage it, and drifts off to the sound of falling rain, alone in the flat.
*
Sirius bounces Harry on his knee. Harry giggles and reaches with pudgy hands to grab Sirius' nose, pinching it and giggling at the faces Sirius makes.
James watches from across the room, smiling and drinking from the bottle of wine Sirius brought over. "He loves you, that's for sure."
Sirius grins at James, and then brings Harry close to his chest, stroking his hair softly as the little boy starts to drop off.
The flat hasn't really changed since they had all lived here together. Though, instead of being cluttered with clothes and books and papers, it's filled now with boxes; Lily and James are moving, to Godric's Hollow, as they had told Sirius that night at dinner. For Harry's sake, hopefully, to keep him out of the conflict as best they can. Sirius took the news with a smile. It was startling and welcome, the change that had come over him - first, with Remus, and then with Harry's birth. It had aged him, in a good way. No longer mercurial and indulgent, no longer vicious and tender at random turns; Sirius was blooming into a wonderful adult, broad-smiled and warm. Nearly responsible, though not quite.
"He's asleep," Sirius says with a bit of a shock. "What do I do?"
"Just hold him," James says, feeling quite comfortable right now, tingly with wine and the kind of love he never thought he'd feel. "Rock him a bit. Just do what you're doing."
James watches as Sirius carefully starts to rock little Harry in his arms, the picture so perfect it brings sudden tears. He watches as Sirius stares lovingly at Harry's sleeping face, cautiously stroking the little boy's hair, touching gently the tip of Harry's nose. "He's beautiful," Sirius murmurs, holding Harry close to his chest, watching as the little baby wriggles a bit in his sleep.
"Do you think he's yours?" James asks casually.
"What?"
"Do you think Harry is your baby?"
Sirius doesn't look up, just keeps stroking Harry's hair, watching him and his little sleeping smile. And then he looks up at James, eyes wet, and hurt. "No."
"You don't?" James' tone is even and warm, almost conversational. It doesn't bother him, he just wants to know.
"No," Sirius says. "You knew?"
"About you and Lily? Of course, always."
"I'm sorry," Sirius says, perhaps a bit late. "We weren't - not really for long."
"It's okay," James says, and it's the truth. "You don't think Harry is yours?"
"No," Sirius replies. "And even if he was - he isn't."
James shakes his head. "You're wrong."
"What?"
"He's just as much yours as he's mine, Sirius. It doesn't matter who the dad is. It's just - that's it, isn't it? He's ours."
"He's ours," Sirius echoes distantly.
"Harry is the best part of both of us," James says quietly. "And he's just as much yours as mine. You'll raise him with me and Lily. You'll be in his life, just as much as any of us. You'll take care of him if we can't, I know you will."
"He's ours," Sirius echoes again. He doesn't even hate himself when he starts crying. "This is so cheesy," he says quietly, as Harry begins to stir.
"Isn't it?" James watches for a moment, and says: "So, you'll help us move to the Hollow tomorrow?"
Sirius looks up from Harry and nods. "Sure. Any thoughts on what we'll do for Halloween?"
"Well, it'll be Harry's three month birthday."
"We should do something special," Sirius says, touching Harry's forehead. "A little birthday celebration."
"We should," James agrees, finishing the rest of his glass.
After a few minutes, Sirius hands Harry back to James, and kisses them both on the forehead. "I've got to go on watch soon. I'll tell Remus and Peter you say hi." He kisses James again, lightly on the lips. "Say hi to Lily for me." He touches a finger to Harry's nose. "And goodnight, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."
Author: marseverlasting
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: James/Lily/Sirius/Remus/Peter (various permutations of)
Word Count: 13,501 words
Summary: When Lily discovers she's pregnant, a carefully balanced dynamic begins to unravel between the one she loves, the other one she loves, the other one she loves, and the other one she loves. A fractal portrait of five people in one relationship.
Warnings: adultery, Peter being attractive, too much love, Sirius.
Author's notes: Written for a_merry_chase for hp_springsmut. So many thanks to my Dylan Thomas, for inspiration, hand-holding, and general perfection. Title comes from Tennyson's superb Idylls of the King, from the bit where he gets all gay for Prince Albert.
Part 1
*
Bright sunlight.
Sirius rolls over in bed, pressing his face into the pillow. His head hurts. A lot. Last night revolves in his mind in a blurry scroll of half-images and disappointments. He gets up, naked and sick and pale, and stumbles his way to the bathroom. James is showering, humming absently and loud, shampooing his hair, and Sirius pukes in the toilet.
"Morning," James says, turning under the spray just as Sirius empties his stomach into the bowl. "Rough night?"
"You were there," Sirius replies in a deadened tone, spitting a few times as his stomach finally settles. "Why aren't you sick."
James turns off the shower and gets out. He touches the top of Sirius' head fleetingly before wrapping a towel around his waist and starting to brush his teeth.
Sirius wipes his mouth off with a square of toilet paper and flushes. He stands next to James at the sink, hunched forward and shivering with sick, staring down into the sink. He splashes water over his face a few times, cups his hands and takes a few careful drinks.
"You don't look good," James says, spitting out his toothpaste. He digs into the medicine cabinet and produces two tablets which he presses into Sirius' hand. "Take these."
Sirius swallows them dry.
"Why are there no aspirins in the jungle?" James asks gently.
Sirius looks at James wearily. "What?"
"Because the parrots eat 'em all." James gives a flushed smile. "Get it?"
"I'm going back to bed," Sirius says. He stumbles back into the bedroom and collapses into his covers. Of course he can't sleep, his mind buzzing and throbbing as it is, his body convulsing in fits of shivers, his throat dry and his tongue foul. Sirius groans and rolls over, clasping his pillow over his face. The bed next to him is empty.
"Where's Remus?" he asks of James.
James stands in the bathroom doorway, toweling his hair lazily. "Didn't he tell you?"
"No."
James shakes his head. "You ask him, I think he'll be back at noon."
"Tell me what?"
"It's not my place to say, Sirius," James replies, dropping the towel and twisting it again around his waist. "He'll tell you himself."
"James," Sirius says heavily, trying as best he can to sit up without being sick again. "Is something wrong? What the hell is going on?"
James sits on the edge of Sirius' bed. He sighs heavily and plays with his wet hair, tossing it back so it flops about in soggy spikes. He leans over to press his elbows to his knees, resting his forehead in the linked web of his hands. "What exactly happened between you two?"
Sirius reddens and slides back against his headboard. Dizziness overwhelms him and he falls back into his pillows, shivering awfully again. "I don't know."
"You didn't try anything, did you?" James asks with darkened eyes.
"No." Sirius pauses, runs a hand over his face and leaves it pressed over his eyes. "Yes."
"Oh, for god's sake, Sirius."
"What?" He drops the hand and looks at James dead-on, liquid eyes and trembling lips. "It was just a game."
James shakes his head. "You are so - so -"
Sirius twists away from James, turning his back to his friend. "I'm going to sleep."
James sighs with the exasperation of nine years of knowing Sirius. "Don't you get it? At all?" Sirius doesn't say anything. "He loves you, Sirius."
"So?"
James sighs. "I mean, really loves you."
Sirius turns about again and looks at James. His eyes are half-closed, eyelashes beaded with tears. "He what?" A pause. "Why? How?"
"Oh," James says, "it's not so hard."
"How do you know?" Sirius asks sullenly.
"It's not a secret, Sirius." James pauses on that thought. "Well, maybe except from you."
"I've fucked things up, haven't I." Sirius sighs and draws his blankets under his chin. "I've fucked things up."
"Yes, you have." James leans over and strokes Sirius' hair gingerly. "But it's not unfixable."
"Where is he, James?"
James frowns. "He's moving out."
"He's what?"
James exhales sharply. "Moving out. He's collecting his things at lunch. He won't be far, just going down to Mount Street." Sirius blinks slowly. "Says he needs some privacy, to do his work."
"Some privacy from me, you mean." Sirius says in a deadened tone. "Because of last night?"
"Well, he didn't specify," James says carefully. "I think he had been planning this for a few weeks. He had the place rented out already."
"Oh."
"Yeah." James gives a half-smile. "I guess he's the only one smart enough to get out of this house."
"I suppose," Sirius replies.
"It's not that we don't love each other," James explains simply, "it's just that - being in such close quarters, all the time -"
"I know." Sirius leans up in bed, crosses his legs and draws his blankets around his naked body, across his shoulders and over his waist. He leans in to James, pressing his forehead dully against the hard of his shoulder.
"You'll talk to him, won't you?" James says.
"Yeah, when he comes in."
"Good." James strokes Sirius' hair lightly. "You know, as crazy as it is, I don't want to leave you guys. It's too - it's the war, and if something were to happen -"
"Nothing's going to happen. We'll be safe James, even if we aren't always together."
"I suppose," James says quietly, suddenly aware of his proximity to Sirius. "I just don't want to imagine what - could happen."
"Then don't." It's a convenient line for an in, so Sirius leans towards James, cleverly tilting his head to catch his friend's gaze. Sirius presses gently onwards and traps James' lips with his own, a shallow little kiss that lingers maybe longer than a friendly kiss should. Sirius pulls back with a wet smack and regards his handiwork; James' red-flushed cheeks, the goosepimples that prick up along his shoulders and arms, the erection he knows is pressing beneath the cotton of his towel. Sirius, with a light touch, traces the knot of James towel; he kisses James again, deeper and with a sharp intake of shocking breath.
"Sirius," James mumbles behind Sirius' lips, which dissolves the kiss at once.
"It's my turn, I guess," Sirius says, tracing his fingers over the flat plane of James' stomach. "Hand or mouth?"
"No, Sirius. I haven't told you something."
"Tell me it later," Sirius continues, tugging the towel from James' hips. "Unless it's dirty."
"No." And James catches Sirius' wrist gently. "It's something important." His grip transfers from wrist to hand, threading his fingers with Sirius' carefully. "I'm making a change."
"A change?"
"In my life. We can't do this anymore."
"Do what?"
"Mess around." James says it simply, and without shame
"Why not?"
"Lily's pregnant." It comes out in a rush, and immediately James smiles broadly. "She's pregnant, Sirius." The now-familiar grin in his eyes forms again, and he seems to positively shine with an inner force. "And I need to act more - fatherly."
"Lily's pregnant?" Sirius says in a thin monotone.
"Yeah." James grins, tosses and easy arm over Sirius' shoulder. "C'mon, man, it's a good thing. It's a good thing. We have a kid."
Sirius swallows, turns to tilt his head into James' shoulder. "And - this means - stopping?"
"What we have is amazing, Sirius, and I'm not stopping that at all. I'm just stopping the - the frivolousness, the sex - which is great, by the way, thumbs up. It's just - not you. I can't. Not now, not when I'm going to become a dad." He kisses the palm of Sirius' hand. "You understand, don't you?"
Sirius nods, though sadness still lingers about his face. He flops back down onto his pillow and watches as James pulls on a pair of Sirius' boxers, slinging on an Oxford shirt, though neglecting to button it up.
"I'd like to take you out," Sirius says suddenly.
"Take me out?"
"Tea, at Claridge's. My treat."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
James flashes a grin. "Yes, of course."
"Good."
"Are you going back to sleep?"
"Yes."
James nods and leaves the bedroom; lingering at the door he says: "Don't forget to talk to Remus."
"I won't."
*
All of Remus' stuff fits in two suitcases. Lily helps him take them downstairs. She hugs him very tight at the door, and almost cries, and tells him that he doesn't have to go, that he can stay and they can figure stuff out. Remus says he'll come back a lot, it's just he can't keep up with everything he needs to do with - distractions. It's raining outside, so Remus pulls on James' nice overcoat and promises he'll return it the next day.
"Of course," Lily says, hugging him tightly once more. "Please, you know you don't have to go."
Remus smiles. "I know." He turns to the mirror and absently brushes his hair away, of course making it messier in the process. "I'll be at headquarters tonight, for the meeting."
"James and I are going," Lily tells him. "Now, where the hell is Sirius."
"Upstairs, I imagine," Remus says quietly. "He was very hungover, James said."
"Still sleeping?" Lily asks.
"Yes," he replies.
"Want me to wake him?"
"No," he replies. "I think it's better we see each other in a few days."
"What has he done now?" she asks.
"Nothing unusual." And then Remus smiles and leans in and kisses Lily on the cheek. "Congratulations, by the way."
She flushes bright red, and her hand instinctively reaches for her stomach. "Yes. Well." And then she breaks into a grand smile. "Thank you. Thanks," and then she leans in and kisses Remus on the mouth. Three times, she does, and the last time long, lingering with the taste of him. "Thank you."
"You'll tell Peter and Sirius goodbye for me?"
"I will," she says. "Oh, Remus, be careful."
"I'm ten minutes away," he says, and then kisses her once more on the cheek. "I'll see you, Lily."
She watches him get into the taxi, watches the car peal off, watches the rain fall outside.
*
"You're late."
"Dumbledore showed up after you left," James says, closing his umbrella and stepping into Claridge's lobby. "There's been some movement and he needed Peter to set up a new outpost. He's there until tomorrow."
"Ah," Sirius says, touching James' shoulder, a touch that stretches to cup his cheek fleetingly. "Shall we get a seat."
They check their coats. Sirius is dressed smartly, a button up black shirt, ribbed and buttoned with gilded silver, dull diamantes in the French cuffs. James too, in a starched white Ben Sherman button-front with black velvet waistcoat. Sirius plucks a carnation from the bowl at the front desk and sends it through one of James' button-holes.
"You look good," Sirius says.
"Yeah, thanks."
The reading room is decorated in black and white and gold art deco, sharp and fragmented, softened only slightly by the rounded marble of a handful of nude Grecian statues, standing guardian over the diners like Don Giovanni's stone guest. The room is filled with the lingering scent of lilac and bergamot, complimented by the sound of a Saint-Saëns swan being conjured beautifully by a single cello. The boys sit by a fire, in plush chairs of black velvet laced here and there by curlicues of gold thread. It's a room that reminds James very much of Sirius; skill and beauty, rich in taste and excess.
An attractive waiter brings a list of the teas; two pages of exquisite, unheard-of blends - Assam and Ceylon, of course, but with that Golden Needle and Nilgiri, Koyu Rize and even freshly-picked, first flush Keemun. James orders a simple Earl Grey, and Sirius opts for Darjeeling White. The tea arrives with fluffy, airy scones; rich bowls of clotted cream and sinfully sweat jams.
"I haven't been here since I was a kid," James says, biting into one of the scones. "Good god, this is amazing."
"Religious," Sirius agrees, slathering his with cream. "I used to bring Remus here all the time. I never thought you'd like it."
"I like it," James says. "They even have a live cellist. This is - wow. Expensive."
Sirius waves him off. "I like to spend."
They eat, finish their first cups of tea. The waiter returns with the list, and they choose two new teas, exploring the more fanciful options.
"You didn't talk to Remus," James says, finishing his second scone. "You said you would."
"I was asleep," Sirius says, his expression slackening notably. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me," James says. And then: "I can't believe he'd go, though. I mean, actually go."
"Maybe this isn't about me," Sirius says sharply.
James looks down at his plate. "I'm sorry. It's just." He sighs. "I don't want us to split up."
"We won't."
"I really don't want us to split up."
"We won't," Sirius repeats.
And then James looks up, and there are tears in his eyes. "I'm going to ask Lily to marry me."
Sirius doesn't drop his fork with a clatter. Sirius doesn't open his mouth wide with shock. Sirius doesn't scream, or leap out of his seat, or even smile. He just looks at James and says, "Yeah."
James narrows his glance. "Yeah?"
"Well, I expected it."
"Well, you could act happy."
"I am happy."
James leans back in his chair, licking jam from his fingers. "You don't act it."
"It's just kind of permanent is all," Sirius says.
"Of course it is," James says. "So is a baby."
"I just - I didn't think you would, I didn't think you'd need to," Sirius says quietly, drinking his tea. "What with us - and me - and you and Lily and - Remus and Peter."
"What - what us?"
"You know that Woody Allen quote?"
The irritation leaves James voice, and suddenly James finds his voice warm and low. "Which?"
"You know, from the book - sex between a man and a woman can be absolutely wonderful, provided you get between the right man and the right woman."
James can't help but snort. "Yeah."
Sirius looks into his cup, unable to meet James' glance. "I kind of thought that was us."
"What?"
"Not - like, sex," Sirius says. "Well, I mean, not always." He drains the rest of his tea, and finally looks up at James. "I thought we were kind of - like, it was all of us, in a - not relationship, but together. It was all of us, all together. Not just - you and Lily." James moves to talk, but Sirius interrupts, "- I know, it's absurd. I just, I kind of liked being in love with everyone."
"Oh."
"But, I'm happy for you. Of course I am. I knew it would happen eventually. And what with Remus moving out. It looks like this relationship wasn't meant to last."
"What, the five of us?"
"Yeah." And then Sirius finally smiles, a warm, full smile. "It's just. I was in love. With everything. With us. With the five of us, I was in love. And I liked it. And I loved you. I guess it couldn't last forever."
"We'll always have Paris," James suggests. And then they laugh together.
"Can I tell you something?" James says in an undertone.
"Of course."
"Peter kissed me."
"What? When!"
"Two nights ago, when we got a little - drunk."
"No fucking joke."
"No fucking joke," James agrees. "Even tried to - er, have me off."
"Peter. Our Peter?"
"Yeah."
Sirius laughs. "Wow. The things proximity can do to you, eh?"
"You don't think he was serious?"
"Come on," Sirius says dismissively, "it's Peter. It's Peter. He's a six beer queer, that's all. And I mean, who wouldn't want to have my James off," Sirius adds, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
They order a new set of teas and scones, lingering back in the warm comfort of their chairs, exchanging laughing glances from time to time. James excuses himself to the bathroom; when he returns, he's smiling broadly.
"Holy shit, Sirius, the bathrooms. They have attendants. To fill the basins for you. And they give you fresh towels. And they offer a spritz of cologne if you want. It's amazing here."
"You're cute when you act all naïve."
"What?"
"I mean, I grew up like this." Sirius laughs. "And you're so excited. It's funny. When you play your wedding, we'll have to get all this, you know - attendants and music and fancy towels, even."
"So you'll come to the wedding?" James asks smiling wide.
Sirius nods. "Yeah, of course. I'll pay for it, too."
"Brilliant." James grins and grabs Sirius' hand. "There's something else too. I've kinda been talking with Lily, and we kind of want you - we'd like it if you -" James swallows his anxiety and tries again: "We'd like it if you were to be Godfather. To our baby."
"Godfather?" The word lingers in his throat, husky and raw; it feels wrong, and acidic, and more painful than he could have imagined a word could feel.
"Yes," James says uncertainly. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, it was just a thought."
Sirius feels his eyes prickle, and his cheeks flush, and his fingers itch. "You want me to be Godfather?"
"Yeah."
Sirius looks at James' hopeful face, watches the shifting brightness in his eyes, feels the anxious way he jiggles his knee under the table, the sudden warmth of his hand when they thread fingers. And he knows, in that one moment, looking at that one boy, that Sirius could never tell James the truth.
"Yes, of course."
*
Remus' apartment is small and spartan, but not without its warmth. Baroque reproductions deck nearly every wall; Cortona and Rubens and Caravaggio. Books cover many of the surfaces, and even more are layered with notes and papers and essays and correspondences, all to do with the war. Dumbledore's loopy script stands out the most as Sirius leafs through them absently.
"Do you like it here, then?" he asks, taking a drink from his glass of wine.
"It's very helpful," Remus says, pouring himself a glass. "I can get work done."
"But you're alone."
"Yes," Remus says nodding. "I am alone."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"It's not like I'm alone all the time. I mean, I see you almost every day anyway."
"Were you unhappy?"
"It wasn't that, Sirius," Remus replies, sitting in one of the large armchairs. "I just needed some time alone, I think."
"You could have asked."
"And would you have given it to me?" Remus retorts.
"Of course!"
Remus shakes his head. "Have you seen Grey Gardens?"
"Of course, we saw it together."
"Well, we were like that, Sirius. Not just you and me. All of us."
"I don't get it."
"Think about it. In the movie, they were - the women had lived for so long together at Grey Gardens. They were so close, with such immediate proximity that almost all of their boundaries were gone. They had lived together for so long that nothing was taboo. Everything was honest, upfront, even if it shouldn't be. But, because of that, they made just as many barriers as they destroyed - emotional barriers, barriers in their relationship. Because they were so open, they couldn't - we couldn't talk about certain things. We couldn't connect. That's us, Sirius. That's all of us."
Sirius looks down into his wine. "I know, I know."
"You don't, though," Remus says. "You don't really get it. We can't grow like that, Sirius. We can't grow. Not stuck together, not in each others' business, not falling in love with everyone -" he pauses, considers his words as if he never meant to say them. "We can't grow like this. We can't fight if all we want is - us."
"Did you love me?"
"Did I?" Remus shakes his head. "Do I."
"Do you?"
"I'm not answering that, Sirius."
"Do you?"
Remus pauses. "You're my Waterloo."
"I'm your what?"
"You're my Waterloo, Sirius. You - you hang over my head. You're my final defeat." Maybe it's the wine going to his head, flushing Remus red with false-courage, finally saying things he's thought of for years. Or maybe it's Sirius, his proximity, the loose buttons of his shirt collar and the browned skin beneath.
"Can you answer my question?" Sirius puts his wine down on the paper-loaded coffee table. He kneels in front of Remus, leaning up to touch the boy's hair carefully, pushing it to one side.
"We can't grow like this," Remus repeats, nuzzling into the touch.
"I can learn."
"I do love you," Remus says very carefully.
"I love you too."
"Have you always?"
"Of course. I've loved you all."
And then they kiss. And maybe, finally, Remus has lost the battle. All things considered, it's not so bad.
*
They're on patrol by Berkley Square at two in the morning.
James falls into Lily like a crashing wave, kissing her roughly on the mouth, the cheeks, back against her ear where he whispers, whispers dirt and sex and things he's done and things he wants to do and dreams of doing to her and with her and on her.
Lily hikes her skirt up, feels the rough brick of the wall scratch against her bare shoulders when James lifts her, keeps her pressed statically between him and the side of the building. He's frantic at the buttons of her shirt, trying to undo them one-handed as the other holds her bum, keeping her tied and tangled around him.
He spreads her shirt open, kisses the tops of her breasts greedily, licking and biting the pale-freckled skin above her pink bra. In retaliation, she undoes the buttons of James' waistcoat, his shirt, let's them fall open so she can scratch viciously with one hand the skin of his chest, slicing red welts into him as he grinds powerfully against her, groaning and growling and, and, and.
*
Sirius kisses Remus with a new warmth, a confident warmth. He straddles Remus in the chair and leans into him, pressing their chests together and their lips together, hands tangled in hair and bodies locked together tight.
"Do you want me to?" Sirius asks in honeyed tones. "See, I'm asking. I'm learning."
Remus smiles, more than a touch embarrassed. "I do."
Sirius grins, and kisses him again, his body moving elegantly, skillfully, rolling into him like a wave, trapping mouths and hands together.
*
Peter kneels.
"And you'll keep them safe, my Lord?" Peter asks.
"For now."
"I'll tell you anything you want, my Lord. Just keep James safe."
"For now."
"Promise me," Peter cries.
"You will call me Lord."
"Please, promise me, my Lord."
"I will keep him safe, Pettigrew. Now rise, and show me your arm."
*
"Fuck," James gasps, sliding into Lily, a word she mirrors on a breath.
He presses her against the alley wall, and her hands dig into his shoulders like talons, scraping and clawing, or else pressing their lips painfully together, letting herself get pushed, pushed, scraped against the raw brick wall.
James builds in quick rhythm, his glasses askew, his hands holding her up, his legs flexing as he pushes and wants and fights. Lily can feel that familiar warm crescendo rise in her stomach, that roaring, tingling sensation in her chest and throat and mouth and, and, and.
*
Sirius pulls off Remus' shirt, pulls off his own. He undoes his trousers and let's them fall with a dull clatter to the floor. Remus does the same, hoisting himself up to pull them off, so now they're both naked and standing and staring and watching each other and warm.
Sirius straddles Remus once more, surging with heat as they touch fever-hot and naked, and kisses him deeply, wetly, matching tongues and tempers, their hips rolling against and against, kissing and learning, both.
*
Peter lies in his bed, naked under the covers, a couple of candles burning on his bedside table. He has red-rimmed eyes from old tears, and he stares unblinkingly at his arm, at the curling black snake and skull that slowly writhe in the candlelight.
*
James can feel it, and Lily too; their rhythm is ferocious and erratic, their need all-encompassing, a bonfire in their stomachs, and James moves as best he can, and Lily holds on to him through it all, riding it out, riding him out and their want and their love.
And as he comes, and as she comes, it starts to rain, the first few drops falling on them, falling on their hair and their faces and their half-naked chests and legs and arms. They laugh, and it starts to pour, and they don't let go; James just slowly lets Lily to the ground, and they stay pressed in tight embrace, back to the wall kissing slowly as they're drenched from head to foot.
"I love you," she says, tasting the rain and James on her lips. "I want to get married."
"Let's get married," James agrees. And that's it. That's the proposition, and it really doesn't get better than that. They kiss again, and whisper loves again.
And Berkeley Square was empty, though James swore he could hear a nightingale, just one, singing a little song.
*
They come together, as it should be, still linked on that chair, Sirius still straddling Remus, four hands wrapped around them, sliding together, slowly, carefully, pulling the best of them together, lips locked incessantly, kissing and needing as they bring themselves to comfort.
They come in the quietest of growls, not a great explosion, just a blissful release. And when they finish, when their shoulders loosen with the warm-blooded flow of afterglow, the rain begins to beat against the window pane. They sit there, still kissing, still together, listening to it fall.
*
Peter waits for James and Lily to come home before falling asleep. He doesn't manage it, and drifts off to the sound of falling rain, alone in the flat.
*
Sirius bounces Harry on his knee. Harry giggles and reaches with pudgy hands to grab Sirius' nose, pinching it and giggling at the faces Sirius makes.
James watches from across the room, smiling and drinking from the bottle of wine Sirius brought over. "He loves you, that's for sure."
Sirius grins at James, and then brings Harry close to his chest, stroking his hair softly as the little boy starts to drop off.
The flat hasn't really changed since they had all lived here together. Though, instead of being cluttered with clothes and books and papers, it's filled now with boxes; Lily and James are moving, to Godric's Hollow, as they had told Sirius that night at dinner. For Harry's sake, hopefully, to keep him out of the conflict as best they can. Sirius took the news with a smile. It was startling and welcome, the change that had come over him - first, with Remus, and then with Harry's birth. It had aged him, in a good way. No longer mercurial and indulgent, no longer vicious and tender at random turns; Sirius was blooming into a wonderful adult, broad-smiled and warm. Nearly responsible, though not quite.
"He's asleep," Sirius says with a bit of a shock. "What do I do?"
"Just hold him," James says, feeling quite comfortable right now, tingly with wine and the kind of love he never thought he'd feel. "Rock him a bit. Just do what you're doing."
James watches as Sirius carefully starts to rock little Harry in his arms, the picture so perfect it brings sudden tears. He watches as Sirius stares lovingly at Harry's sleeping face, cautiously stroking the little boy's hair, touching gently the tip of Harry's nose. "He's beautiful," Sirius murmurs, holding Harry close to his chest, watching as the little baby wriggles a bit in his sleep.
"Do you think he's yours?" James asks casually.
"What?"
"Do you think Harry is your baby?"
Sirius doesn't look up, just keeps stroking Harry's hair, watching him and his little sleeping smile. And then he looks up at James, eyes wet, and hurt. "No."
"You don't?" James' tone is even and warm, almost conversational. It doesn't bother him, he just wants to know.
"No," Sirius says. "You knew?"
"About you and Lily? Of course, always."
"I'm sorry," Sirius says, perhaps a bit late. "We weren't - not really for long."
"It's okay," James says, and it's the truth. "You don't think Harry is yours?"
"No," Sirius replies. "And even if he was - he isn't."
James shakes his head. "You're wrong."
"What?"
"He's just as much yours as he's mine, Sirius. It doesn't matter who the dad is. It's just - that's it, isn't it? He's ours."
"He's ours," Sirius echoes distantly.
"Harry is the best part of both of us," James says quietly. "And he's just as much yours as mine. You'll raise him with me and Lily. You'll be in his life, just as much as any of us. You'll take care of him if we can't, I know you will."
"He's ours," Sirius echoes again. He doesn't even hate himself when he starts crying. "This is so cheesy," he says quietly, as Harry begins to stir.
"Isn't it?" James watches for a moment, and says: "So, you'll help us move to the Hollow tomorrow?"
Sirius looks up from Harry and nods. "Sure. Any thoughts on what we'll do for Halloween?"
"Well, it'll be Harry's three month birthday."
"We should do something special," Sirius says, touching Harry's forehead. "A little birthday celebration."
"We should," James agrees, finishing the rest of his glass.
After a few minutes, Sirius hands Harry back to James, and kisses them both on the forehead. "I've got to go on watch soon. I'll tell Remus and Peter you say hi." He kisses James again, lightly on the lips. "Say hi to Lily for me." He touches a finger to Harry's nose. "And goodnight, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."