A Gift For maraudersaffair: The First Christmas, (James/Sirius)
Author: fangqueen
Recipient: maraudersaffair
Title: The First Christmas
Pairing: James/Sirius, James/Lily
Rating: R
Warning(s)/Content: Canon Divergent, Major Character Death (Lily), Bisexual!James, Christmas, War Time, Angst, Grief, Loss of a Loved One, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship, Unrequited Love, Pining, Fantasy, Mild Sexual Content
Word Count: 1,985
Summary: It was as palpable today as it had been since: the feeling of a profound absence in the room. Sirius could almost see Lily standing there at James' side, looking radiant as ever. What he wouldn't have done for that to be true...
Author's Notes: This happens to be the second Christmas fic I've written for this pairing―surprisingly enough, considering how rarely I get to work with them. And every time I do get to, I question why I don't write them more often. Anyway, maraudersaffair, I hope you enjoy your gift! This was the first thing that popped into my head after reading your form, and I just had to do it.
It was around three-thirty on Christmas morning when Sirius woke with a start, a feeling deep in his gut that something wasn't right. A niggling, twisting sensation that made his heart beat a mile a minute and the room spin before his eyes. He'd had that exact feeling once before in recent months, and it was because of that memory that he flung his covers aside and jumped out of bed, ignoring the cold sting of the hardwood floor against the soles of his bare feet. Racing for the door, he scooped up his wand and an oversized pullover where he'd discarded them earlier in the night, flinging his gangly limbs into the latter with little prowess as he all but tumbled into the hall.
His first stop was the baby's room. His hand lingered on the doorknob as he listened for noise from within, but all he could hear was the sound of his own labored breathing. Mad-Eye's voice rang in his head―all those talks they'd had about tactics, how to think like an Auror, and he couldn't be bothered to use a word of it right now.
He shouldered the door open, wand held aloft in his opposite hand, and scanned the room to find...nothing. He checked under the crib, inside the closet―still nothing. It was just as empty and quiet as when he'd left it hours ago. Save for the toddler sleeping peacefully under the far window, wrapped up tight in his warm winter blankets, his thumb resting on his bottom lip. Sirius spared a moment to gently run a hand over Harry's dark, wispy hair, to bend and press a kiss to his forehead, before he suddenly and startlingly remembered why he'd blown in here so quickly and thought of James…
Back in the hallway, he could see that James' door had been left open a crack. Even before he'd skidded to a stop in front of it and flung it open, he knew there was no one inside. He felt sick. James. They'd gotten James. It was all he could think of as he flew across the floor to the opposite side of the house, hoping and praying that he was wrong, that James had merely gotten up for a piss, or to get a glass of water, anything but what every voice in his head was screaming at him right now, that they'd gotten him, that this was the moment he'd been fearing every single day for the past two months, that he'd failed him―
He arrived in the kitchen to find James in his pajamas and seated at the table, his eyes staring unblinkingly ahead of him. It took a moment for Sirius to realize that he hadn't discovered a body; that James was alive, breathing, sitting upright. He surveyed the rest of the room and found nothing particularly amiss. There were fresh logs in the furnace, but they hadn't been lit. On the counter, an open tea tin sat next to the empty kettle. No Death Eaters, no destruction.
He hesitated, then lowered his wand, furrowing his brow. "What are you doing?"
James startled. Even when he turned to him, Sirius could see his eyes were glazed. He blinked, then picked his glasses up from the table and pushed them onto his nose. There was a very long beat in which they stared into each other's eyes, and Sirius thought James might not have recognized him, until he finally spoke:
"Couldn't sleep. You?"
Sirius clutched the doorframe tight in one hand, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as it gradually slowed. "Yeah."
Sirius lit a fire and filled the kettle. He leaned back against the counter and stared out the window while they waited for it to boil in silence. It was dark, of course, but he could still see it was really coming down out there. Big, white puffballs pouring from the sky in flurries. What was on the ground was already over a foot thick. The storm had blown in last night, and it hadn’t let up for even a minute since. Well, they'd just been talking the other day about how they were wishing for a snowy Christmas this year, and they'd sure as hell gotten it.
Sirius poured two mugs full, setting one in front of James before dropping into the seat across from him. He watched his friend take several moments to realize it―when he did, he nodded in thanks, but didn't drink. Sirius held his just to warm his hands and wished he'd stopped for his pajama bottoms as well. Pants and hairy legs were barely doing the job. He fiddled anxiously with the handle, watching as James absentmindedly passed a hand over his mouth, the usual blank nothingness back in his eyes, like he was floating far off some place that Sirius could never possibly reach.
It was as palpable today as it had been since: the feeling of a profound absence in the room. Sirius could almost see Lily standing there at James' side, looking radiant as ever. What he wouldn't have done for that to be true...
The reality was that Lily Evans-Potter had lost her life on Halloween night, begging and pleading for her son's while he wailed in terror in his crib behind her. The reality was that James had been knocked unconscious in the hall, and been unable to do a single thing as his wife was mercilessly executed in the next room. The reality was that they'd all lost two friends that day, that that conniving piece of shit, Peter, had yet to be found, that Sirius had willingly packed up his whole life and moved out to the countryside with James and little Harry to act as their bodyguard, and that no matter what he told anyone, James spent each and every day wishing it had been him instead. The Dark Lord was meant to think they had both died with her. A bitter voice in the back of Sirius' mind often told him that it would probably only be a matter of time before he figured it out and went on the hunt once more―but it was during times like these, when he could sit with his best friend across his breakfast table, mug of tea in hand, watching snow fall out the window like a shield of purity through which no evil could touch them, that he liked to pretend that wasn't possible.
Today, it was the dark rings around James' swollen eyes that reminded him of just how stupid that really was.
Sirius cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, folding his legs up in an attempt to get warmer. He could feel the heat from the fire beating against his back, but it wasn't enough. He knew he could've just used a spell, but they'd been doing their best to cut back on that sort of thing, to make themselves harder to track. At the sound of movement, James finally came back to him once more, blinking the eternity out of his eyes, and took a gulp of his tea.
"Moony should be over some time today," Sirius began conversationally. "Probably no later than eight, if I know his early-rising arse."
"He does love Christmas," James offered, a shadow of a smile passing over his face.
"He loves the sweets I put in his stocking."
They shared an awkward laugh, knowing full well that there were no stockings this year. Remus was indeed stopping by today, but it was to deliver their weekly food allowance from the rest of the Order. Still, he probably would be over early. He knew how hard this day was going to be for James, and Sirius would've been surprised if he hadn't planned on spending as much time as he could with them. He could only hope that Remus had managed to sneak that bottle of Ogden's he'd been begging for past Molly's watchful eye. If he wasn't able to spend this Christmas happily opening presents and consuming his weight in chocolates, then he was at the very least going to be drunk throughout.
James looked unwell again, and Sirius couldn't help but stare, desperately trying to think of something else to say, to keep him smiling. The man caught him looking, carded a hand through his unruly hair to hide his insecurity. It was then that Sirius noticed the tears welling in his eyes.
James took a deep breath, and in a wavering voice said, "I don't know what to do, Sirius."
The fact that he'd used his real name told Sirius much more than any other words could have. Without a second thought, his hand flew across the table. James reached in return and clung to it, threading their fingers together and holding on like his life depended on it.
"It's...it's his first Christmas without her, and I can't even…" James continued in a voice gradually losing composure. "It's...it's Christmas, it's bloody Christmas, and we're stuck in here, no gifts, no―"
"Fuck the presents, mate, he doesn't need them. He has you."
James let out a small gasp as the tears finally fell, pouring over his cheeks as he pressed his free hand to his mouth, and Sirius felt his heart smash into a thousand pieces.
James wasn't yet twenty-two, and he was already a widower. A single father. Sirius would've given anything to fill that void at his side. And he did, in some respects. He shared in the childcare duties―feeding Harry, bathing him, generally looking after him. He helped with the cooking, and sometimes it even turned out half edible. He tried his best to keep the place tidy. He was there with a kind word and a hug whenever James needed him―which was often. And yet, there was so much more he wished he could do.
He knew James could never look at him the way he'd looked at her. Or, rather...he knew James could never look at him the way he had before her. They'd always been best friends, sure. Only a handful of people in this world knew that they'd ever been more.
Sirius could still remember those days in school: the desperation hidden behind their bed curtains, or in the Shrieking Shack, away from prying eyes. Still laid awake at nights to the thought of him. Still found stolen moments of pleasure to the memory of him―of the feeling of his skin, the taste of his lips, the wet heat of his mouth on his cock. It was torture these past few weeks, once again living in such close proximity. It had been different when James was married. At least then Sirius could tell himself it was wrong to want him, to want someone who was so obviously unavailable.
No, it was still wrong. Probably more so now than it ever had been. He couldn't have possibly been more selfish. He hated himself for it. Lily had passed barely two months ago. His best friend was grieving, falling apart before his eyes every minute, and here he was wishing that they could―
The shriek of a baby's wail pierced the air.
Like a tap turning off, James stopped, even as a drop broke free from his jaw to land on the tabletop below. He let out a huff, attempting to smile as he muttered, "Right on schedule." Then with a final affectionate squeeze, he let go of Sirius' hand and stood to cross to the door, wiping the fog from his glasses with a corner of his t-shirt.
Sirius watched him leave, filled with a mixture of yet indescribable emotions. Only when James was out of view did he release a shaky breath, the feelings overwhelming him. Moisture clouded his vision, and he yanked his sweater up over his head, finally crying the tears that he vowed he would never let James see.
Recipient: maraudersaffair
Title: The First Christmas
Pairing: James/Sirius, James/Lily
Rating: R
Warning(s)/Content: Canon Divergent, Major Character Death (Lily), Bisexual!James, Christmas, War Time, Angst, Grief, Loss of a Loved One, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship, Unrequited Love, Pining, Fantasy, Mild Sexual Content
Word Count: 1,985
Summary: It was as palpable today as it had been since: the feeling of a profound absence in the room. Sirius could almost see Lily standing there at James' side, looking radiant as ever. What he wouldn't have done for that to be true...
Author's Notes: This happens to be the second Christmas fic I've written for this pairing―surprisingly enough, considering how rarely I get to work with them. And every time I do get to, I question why I don't write them more often. Anyway, maraudersaffair, I hope you enjoy your gift! This was the first thing that popped into my head after reading your form, and I just had to do it.
It was around three-thirty on Christmas morning when Sirius woke with a start, a feeling deep in his gut that something wasn't right. A niggling, twisting sensation that made his heart beat a mile a minute and the room spin before his eyes. He'd had that exact feeling once before in recent months, and it was because of that memory that he flung his covers aside and jumped out of bed, ignoring the cold sting of the hardwood floor against the soles of his bare feet. Racing for the door, he scooped up his wand and an oversized pullover where he'd discarded them earlier in the night, flinging his gangly limbs into the latter with little prowess as he all but tumbled into the hall.
His first stop was the baby's room. His hand lingered on the doorknob as he listened for noise from within, but all he could hear was the sound of his own labored breathing. Mad-Eye's voice rang in his head―all those talks they'd had about tactics, how to think like an Auror, and he couldn't be bothered to use a word of it right now.
He shouldered the door open, wand held aloft in his opposite hand, and scanned the room to find...nothing. He checked under the crib, inside the closet―still nothing. It was just as empty and quiet as when he'd left it hours ago. Save for the toddler sleeping peacefully under the far window, wrapped up tight in his warm winter blankets, his thumb resting on his bottom lip. Sirius spared a moment to gently run a hand over Harry's dark, wispy hair, to bend and press a kiss to his forehead, before he suddenly and startlingly remembered why he'd blown in here so quickly and thought of James…
Back in the hallway, he could see that James' door had been left open a crack. Even before he'd skidded to a stop in front of it and flung it open, he knew there was no one inside. He felt sick. James. They'd gotten James. It was all he could think of as he flew across the floor to the opposite side of the house, hoping and praying that he was wrong, that James had merely gotten up for a piss, or to get a glass of water, anything but what every voice in his head was screaming at him right now, that they'd gotten him, that this was the moment he'd been fearing every single day for the past two months, that he'd failed him―
He arrived in the kitchen to find James in his pajamas and seated at the table, his eyes staring unblinkingly ahead of him. It took a moment for Sirius to realize that he hadn't discovered a body; that James was alive, breathing, sitting upright. He surveyed the rest of the room and found nothing particularly amiss. There were fresh logs in the furnace, but they hadn't been lit. On the counter, an open tea tin sat next to the empty kettle. No Death Eaters, no destruction.
He hesitated, then lowered his wand, furrowing his brow. "What are you doing?"
James startled. Even when he turned to him, Sirius could see his eyes were glazed. He blinked, then picked his glasses up from the table and pushed them onto his nose. There was a very long beat in which they stared into each other's eyes, and Sirius thought James might not have recognized him, until he finally spoke:
"Couldn't sleep. You?"
Sirius clutched the doorframe tight in one hand, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as it gradually slowed. "Yeah."
Sirius lit a fire and filled the kettle. He leaned back against the counter and stared out the window while they waited for it to boil in silence. It was dark, of course, but he could still see it was really coming down out there. Big, white puffballs pouring from the sky in flurries. What was on the ground was already over a foot thick. The storm had blown in last night, and it hadn’t let up for even a minute since. Well, they'd just been talking the other day about how they were wishing for a snowy Christmas this year, and they'd sure as hell gotten it.
Sirius poured two mugs full, setting one in front of James before dropping into the seat across from him. He watched his friend take several moments to realize it―when he did, he nodded in thanks, but didn't drink. Sirius held his just to warm his hands and wished he'd stopped for his pajama bottoms as well. Pants and hairy legs were barely doing the job. He fiddled anxiously with the handle, watching as James absentmindedly passed a hand over his mouth, the usual blank nothingness back in his eyes, like he was floating far off some place that Sirius could never possibly reach.
It was as palpable today as it had been since: the feeling of a profound absence in the room. Sirius could almost see Lily standing there at James' side, looking radiant as ever. What he wouldn't have done for that to be true...
The reality was that Lily Evans-Potter had lost her life on Halloween night, begging and pleading for her son's while he wailed in terror in his crib behind her. The reality was that James had been knocked unconscious in the hall, and been unable to do a single thing as his wife was mercilessly executed in the next room. The reality was that they'd all lost two friends that day, that that conniving piece of shit, Peter, had yet to be found, that Sirius had willingly packed up his whole life and moved out to the countryside with James and little Harry to act as their bodyguard, and that no matter what he told anyone, James spent each and every day wishing it had been him instead. The Dark Lord was meant to think they had both died with her. A bitter voice in the back of Sirius' mind often told him that it would probably only be a matter of time before he figured it out and went on the hunt once more―but it was during times like these, when he could sit with his best friend across his breakfast table, mug of tea in hand, watching snow fall out the window like a shield of purity through which no evil could touch them, that he liked to pretend that wasn't possible.
Today, it was the dark rings around James' swollen eyes that reminded him of just how stupid that really was.
Sirius cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, folding his legs up in an attempt to get warmer. He could feel the heat from the fire beating against his back, but it wasn't enough. He knew he could've just used a spell, but they'd been doing their best to cut back on that sort of thing, to make themselves harder to track. At the sound of movement, James finally came back to him once more, blinking the eternity out of his eyes, and took a gulp of his tea.
"Moony should be over some time today," Sirius began conversationally. "Probably no later than eight, if I know his early-rising arse."
"He does love Christmas," James offered, a shadow of a smile passing over his face.
"He loves the sweets I put in his stocking."
They shared an awkward laugh, knowing full well that there were no stockings this year. Remus was indeed stopping by today, but it was to deliver their weekly food allowance from the rest of the Order. Still, he probably would be over early. He knew how hard this day was going to be for James, and Sirius would've been surprised if he hadn't planned on spending as much time as he could with them. He could only hope that Remus had managed to sneak that bottle of Ogden's he'd been begging for past Molly's watchful eye. If he wasn't able to spend this Christmas happily opening presents and consuming his weight in chocolates, then he was at the very least going to be drunk throughout.
James looked unwell again, and Sirius couldn't help but stare, desperately trying to think of something else to say, to keep him smiling. The man caught him looking, carded a hand through his unruly hair to hide his insecurity. It was then that Sirius noticed the tears welling in his eyes.
James took a deep breath, and in a wavering voice said, "I don't know what to do, Sirius."
The fact that he'd used his real name told Sirius much more than any other words could have. Without a second thought, his hand flew across the table. James reached in return and clung to it, threading their fingers together and holding on like his life depended on it.
"It's...it's his first Christmas without her, and I can't even…" James continued in a voice gradually losing composure. "It's...it's Christmas, it's bloody Christmas, and we're stuck in here, no gifts, no―"
"Fuck the presents, mate, he doesn't need them. He has you."
James let out a small gasp as the tears finally fell, pouring over his cheeks as he pressed his free hand to his mouth, and Sirius felt his heart smash into a thousand pieces.
James wasn't yet twenty-two, and he was already a widower. A single father. Sirius would've given anything to fill that void at his side. And he did, in some respects. He shared in the childcare duties―feeding Harry, bathing him, generally looking after him. He helped with the cooking, and sometimes it even turned out half edible. He tried his best to keep the place tidy. He was there with a kind word and a hug whenever James needed him―which was often. And yet, there was so much more he wished he could do.
He knew James could never look at him the way he'd looked at her. Or, rather...he knew James could never look at him the way he had before her. They'd always been best friends, sure. Only a handful of people in this world knew that they'd ever been more.
Sirius could still remember those days in school: the desperation hidden behind their bed curtains, or in the Shrieking Shack, away from prying eyes. Still laid awake at nights to the thought of him. Still found stolen moments of pleasure to the memory of him―of the feeling of his skin, the taste of his lips, the wet heat of his mouth on his cock. It was torture these past few weeks, once again living in such close proximity. It had been different when James was married. At least then Sirius could tell himself it was wrong to want him, to want someone who was so obviously unavailable.
No, it was still wrong. Probably more so now than it ever had been. He couldn't have possibly been more selfish. He hated himself for it. Lily had passed barely two months ago. His best friend was grieving, falling apart before his eyes every minute, and here he was wishing that they could―
The shriek of a baby's wail pierced the air.
Like a tap turning off, James stopped, even as a drop broke free from his jaw to land on the tabletop below. He let out a huff, attempting to smile as he muttered, "Right on schedule." Then with a final affectionate squeeze, he let go of Sirius' hand and stood to cross to the door, wiping the fog from his glasses with a corner of his t-shirt.
Sirius watched him leave, filled with a mixture of yet indescribable emotions. Only when James was out of view did he release a shaky breath, the feelings overwhelming him. Moisture clouded his vision, and he yanked his sweater up over his head, finally crying the tears that he vowed he would never let James see.