#honestly I did try to make this canon compliant - it's not my fault JKR left plot holes the size of saturn for this bit of the story

[cassiaratheslytherpuff]

No Other Sadness in the World Would Do

For Prongsfoot week day 7 - write anything for this ship

Warnings: MCD, canon compliant, suicidal thoughts, unrequited love On October 31st 1981, Voldemort attacked the Potters. This is what happened after.

Sirius knew, somewhere deep down, what he would find when he pulled up to James and Lily's house. He had felt it, like a knife to the chest – half his heart shrinking in on itself in terror, then going still. Quiet, far too quiet. Still, seeing large parts of the wall on the south side of the second floor missing hit him hard. Harry's bedroom. Neither James nor Lily would have allowed anyone into Harry’s room if they were still alive and breathing. And yet – he had to know for sure. The hope burned in his chest like acid because it was false. He knew it was false, and yet… it was James. Sirius didn’t think the world would keep existing if James no longer did. So maybe – somehow, he’d be alright.

The front door was ajar, and Sirius pushed it open with his foot. He didn't make it more than a step inside before he fell to his knees. James. He looked like himself, even in death. His glasses were smudged but unbroken, his brown eyes open wide and staring into nothing. His skin was pale, his mouth slightly open – as if he'd been halfway through a word when Voldemort killed him.

"No," Sirius choked out. His voice was raw, reflecting a brokenness he knew would never be repaired. He shook his head in mute denial. James couldn’t be – it wasn’t possible. James was so alive. He should never be this still. It was wrong.

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Sirius gasped for air. Every cell in his body was protesting being alive in a world where James wasn't. Sirius wouldn't do it, couldn't do it. Without James he was half a person. Less than half a person, he wasn't sure he was anything at all. He didn't think he wanted to be.

Slowly, carefully, Sirius reached out a trembling hand to remove James’s glasses. He placed his hand on James’s face, which felt colder than it should be, and gently closed his eyes for the last time.

Unable to resist, Sirius placed a soft kiss on James’s slightly parted lips. His tears dripped off his nose and onto James’s cheek, and he wiped it carefully off.

"I love you," Sirius said. Minutes too late for James to hear, years too late for it to matter.

He moved James’s arms from the position that would have been uncomfortable, had he been alive, and realised in the process that James hadn't even paused to get his wand. Had just thrown himself in-between Voldemort and the people he loved most without a second thought.

A strange peace came over Sirius then, he knew what he had to do. He would find Peter, kill him, and then follow James to wherever it was he had gone. There was nothing for him in the world if there was no James. He knew it wasn't what James wanted, but James didn't understand. James didn't see how he was the centre of Sirius’s universe, and that without him Sirius was untethered. He couldn't do anything but follow.

A whimper from upstairs made Sirius jump. The soft sound quickly turned into a loud, soul-crushing scream. Harry! Harry was alive. Sirius scrambled to his feet at took the stairs three at a time, crashing into the doorframe and nearly tripping over Lily's body in his rush to get to the crib. And there was Harry. His face was covered in blood and tears as he screamed to his mum, clearly not understanding why she wasn't responding.

Harry. The gravitational force that had tied Sirius to James shifted. How could he follow James when Harry was still here? Harry needed him. He picked Harry out of his crib, feeling his world shift and settle on a singular goal; protect Harry.

The relief of finding Harry alive broke through the numbness Sirius had surrounded himself with the second he looked into James’s unseeing eyes – and for a moment he couldn’t do anything more than hold Harry tight to his chest and sob into his hair. Sirius felt lost. He had to figure out what to do. It wouldn’t be long until someone discovered what had happened. And as far as Dumbledore and Remus knew, Sirius was the secret-keeper. As far as they knew, Sirius had been the one to betray James. In a way he had. Suggesting they change to Peter had been – it was unforgivable. But Sirius couldn’t plan. Couldn’t think. Not when all he could see was James, eyes staring into nothing. Lily, crumpled on the floor.

Sirius tightened his grip on Harry and walked downstairs. He cleaned the cut on Harry’s forehead and healed it to the best of his ability. It would scar, but if Sirius’s suspicions were right, it was from a killing-curse – a scar was getting off easy. Harry fussed and cried for his mum and dad, and Sirius’s heart crumbled more with each broken sob from the boy. He held Harry in his arms and walked the length of the living room again and again, trying to soothe him. When Harry fell into a fitful sleep, Sirius didn’t know how to stop his pacing. If he stopped; he might fall apart. James was gone. Gone. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact. Surely, James would open the door to the living room at any moment – demanding his son back and laughing about the terrible prank he’d pulled.

As much as Sirius couldn’t believe it, he still felt it – the aching absence. The world had gone dark the second James drew his last breath, and Sirius didn’t think it would ever regain its colour. He hated that Harry had to grow up like this, in a world of dulled colours and muffled laughter. That he would never again know his vibrant and lovely father. The man Sirius loved more than anything.

Time moved in a strange rhythm, and Harry woke as the sun started shining through the windows. Sirius hadn’t put him down, hadn’t slept – but he had, at some point during the night, sat down in the chair James always favoured. It still smelled of him, and Sirius wanted to sink into the fabric and remain there.

Harry made a noise of complaint and Sirius forced himself to look down at the child, tried to force a smile and failed miserably.

“Right,” Sirius said, surprised at the roughness of his voice. “Food.”

Sirius was feeding Harry the last spoonful of porridge when Hagrid arrived. Sirius tensed, but the man smiled through his tears upon seeing him – and Sirius knew nobody had told him who the secret-keeper was supposed to be.

“Oh, good,” Hagrid said. “He’s alright.”

Sirius nodded. He should have left when he had the chance. Should have taken Harry and run as far as they could.

Sirius nodded. Neither of them was alright, but Harry was alive.

Hagrid shook his head, fat tears dripping down his cheeks. “I can’t believe it. James and Lily…”

Sirius gritted his teeth. He couldn’t hear it. “Don’t,” he managed.

Hagrid seemed to get it, nodded.

“Dumbledore sent me to get him,” he said, nodding at the child in Sirius’s arms.

Sirius shook his head. “No.”

Hagrid blinked, clearly surprised that anyone would argue with the old Headmaster.

Sirius shook his head again. “I’m his godfather. He’s staying with me.”

“He needs to be kept safe, Dumbledore said,” Hagrid explained.

Sirius sighed. Safe from him, most likely. Dumbledore thought he’d sold out James – Remus would think so too. Sirius wasn’t sure who else thought he was the secret-keeper, but they’d spread the rumour. It would be enough. People would be coming for him, in not too long. Could he really take Harry on the run with him? Was that any kind of life?

“’s in his blood or summat,” Hagrid said. “Lily’s blood will keep him safe – he’ll be goin’ to his aunt an’ uncle to be kept safe.”

Lily’s blood – had she… she must have – how else would Harry had survived the killing curse? It was powerful magic. Lily had never spoken much of her sister, though Sirius knew they lost touch as children. Maybe – would it be better? Harry could grow up with his aunt and uncle, could live in a stable home with Lily’s protection keeping him safe. Or he could – what? Go on the run with Sirius? What kind of life was that?

Hagrid seemed to see he was hesitating. He placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder, offering him a sad smile. “I know yeh love him,” he said. “But Dumbledore knows what’s best. Let me take him to safety.”

Sirius found himself nodding, even as everything in him screamed no. No, Harry was his. James and Lily had chosen him. But hey hadn’t known what they were signing up for, hadn’t understood how little would remain of Sirius with James gone. Who was he to raise a child? He would damage the poor kid beyond repair. He had no idea where to even start.

“Fine,” Sirius said – pulling the cloak of numbness over himself again. This was for the best. Harry would be safe – happy. And Sirius could follow James. Hopefully, James would forgive him.

Hagrid held out his arms, and Sirius eyed the pink umbrella sceptically. “How are you getting him there?”

“Well, I Apparated here,” Hagrid admitted. “Thought I could jus–,”

“No,” Sirius said, wincing at the idea of little Harry splinched by a botched Apparition with a broken wand. “My bike is outside. You can have it.”

Hagrid opened his eyes wide. “But – you love that bike.”

Sirius nodded. He’d loved a lot of things about the bike, mostly though, he’d loved sharing it with James. “I don’t have much need for it anymore. Take it – get Harry where he’s going safely.”

On the morning of November 2nd Harry was woken by Petunia Dursley's scream. Her shrill voice would wake him every day for the next ten years. After reading the letter she picked up the basket and deposited it in the cupboard underneath the stairs – this was the last time anyone ever picked him up, until Hagrid carried him from the woods 16 years later.

In the evening of November 2nd, Sirius found Peter. Mad with rage and grief he tried to duel the man he had called a friend, but the coward set off an explosion instead of facing what he had done. Sirius turned his wand on himself, but Aurors disarmed him before he could speak. They doused him with Veritaserum in lieu of a trial, and asked if he was responsible for the death of James and Lily Potter. The Veritaserum forced the only truth Sirius knew from his lips: yes, he was.

On the third of November – his birthday – Sirius screamed himself into an exhausted sleep. He would so every night for the next 12 years. The dementors never robbed him of the love he felt for James because nothing they could conjure hurt as much as loving James when he was gone.

Twelve years later, Sirius learned Harry hadn’t been better off. Learned he hadn’t been safe or happy with his aunt and uncle. He tried everything he could to make up for it, tried to look at Harry and see Harry, not James. But they were so alike, and his mind so broken – it didn’t always work.

In the end, fourteen years after James and Lily left them, after Sirius left Harry. Sirius fell through the Veil – and he was surprised. Not just by the fact he would die, but by the fear he felt at the idea. He’d felt James’s absence like a pulsating wound for years, but he would be leaving Harry again. Harry, who was his world. In the end, Sirius was gone before he could hear Harry’s broken screams – the pleading for Sirius to get up – to come back.