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Not Entirely Sure Yet


It took a good deal of coaxing before James had gotten Sirius to his room and into bed. Sirius had cried and asked for Moony and insisted the ceiling was crawling (“It’s like it’s coated with little white ants, James, can’t you see all of the little white ants? What’s wrong with your eyes? They’re going to get us! Please - kill the ants, James!”). James sat on the carpet beside the bed with his head resting on his arms, which were crossed over his knees, and fell asleep, afraid to leave Sirius alone.

James’s dreams that night were weird, to say the least. He was certain there was some meaning to them, but he couldn’t piece together what...

In one dream, he was six years old and he was lost in Diagon Alley, running about, searching for Charlus and crying. And there was Sirius Black, just as he was now, sixteen and lean without his shirt on, and smoking a cigarette and little ickle James ran up to him. “Mr. Sirius!” he cried out, running up to him, grabbing Sirius Black’s hand, “Mr. Sirius, please help me find my da!”

And Sirius Black had lowered the cigarette and blew smoke out his nostrils like a dragon and he’d said, “You’re a bastard, you know.” And this had made little James cry and cry and --

Guessing it was another dream, James had grown from a crying six year old to an age unknown and he was running - running, running, running - and the floor was moving like a conveyor belt and he could see a spot where the floor was still, where Sirius Black stood, smoking again, and James was holding his arms out, “Mate, mate help me!” and Sirius ignored him. “Mate! Please! Sirius, please!”

And Sirius Black looked up and he said, “I fucking warned you, I warned you the floor was moving and you didn’t listen to me, so that’s what you get. Just keep on running for the rest of your life!” And this had made James cry and cry and --

Yet another new dream. This time, James was alone in a room with pristine tiled floors and a tall glass case filled with shiny golden trinkets and he turned and there was a desk behind him and on the desk stood a glass bell jar. The jar had to be at least five feet tall, maybe taller, even, and inside of it was a glittering, shimmering sort of presence - like a wind. At the bottom of the jar was an egg. James lowered himself, looking into the jar at the egg and he was just about to reach for the glass of the jar, to push it off, to inspect the egg, when a great crack went down the side of it, splitting it open and from inside of the egg there emerged a tiny bird - a hummingbird with great green wings the colour of Lily Evans’s eyes and James blinked in surprise at the bird, watching it’s fluttering wings as it rose up to the top of the jar, flying on the gold shimmery wind. And it was mesmerizing at first, hypnotic and beautiful… until the bird reached the top and suddenly it was quite old and bedraggled looking, as though it had been through a great many days and years and lived a full life and suddenly it… it died and fell back to the floor of the jar, spinning as it went, landing in it’s egg and -- and the egg closed about it and James stared, horrified… until the egg cracked once more and the bird was born again and James said, “It’s like a phoenix, except… except smaller.”

“Yes, James, precisely.” The voice had come from behind him and when James turned around in his dream, he’d seen the speaker -- an old man, with many wrinkles and lines in his face, clutching a cane with a shaking hand. Mopsus. And in Mopsus’s hands there was a golden trinket - a trinket James now recognized as a time turner. He stared at the dials. “Nobody warned you of the price you pay, then? For travelling through time? Or the fee to saved your loved ones?”

“No,” James stammered. “How much is it? I’ll pay anything...” and he thought of the piles and mountains of gold in the Potter vault at Gringott’s.

“Precious seconds,” whispered Mopsus, “It’ll cost you precious seconds”.

That’s when James had woken up in a cold sweat, dizzy and grabbing for his wand - which he’d forgotten downstairs in the kitchen. And a good thing, too, or else Sirius’s desk chair might’ve been hexed. James gasped for air, his heart rate slamming.

It was then that he realized he was alone, Sirius wasn’t in his bed. “Sirius?” he called.

Unlike yesterday, though, when James called him, there came a reply. “Prongs?” It was wobbly and weak, but it was an answer.

James pushed himself up from the floor, wincing from the stiffness that sleeping sitting on a hardwood floor will cause, and he followed the sound of Sirius’s voice and found himself standing outside the bathroom door. “Sirius?” he called though.

“You can come in, it isn’t locked,” Sirius said, his voice sounded sad.

James pushed it open.

Sirius was sitting, fully dressed, in the dry bath tub.

“What’re you doing?”

Sirius stared up at him with watery eyes. “I was afraid… of… of the ceiling,” he said.

James hesitated. “The ceiling doesn’t have anything wrong with it, Sirius, you need to go back to bed and --”

“I know that now,” Sirius said.

James stared down at Sirius. “So you’re sober. That’s good. Why are you still in here then?”

“I feel dirty,” Sirius replied.

“Good thing you’re in a bathtub then, ‘ey?” James asked with a smirk.

Sirius stared up at James. “I’ve slept with Ace Dante.”

“Yes, you mentioned it. Between the fennel and the moving floor, you managed to get that fact in,” James said.

“Fennel?” Sirius looked utterly confused.

“Yes, they’re forever, apparently.”

Sirius stared at James for a long moment without saying anything. Then, “I’m sorry. I was kind of a dick to you.”

James lowered himself on the closed lid of the toilet. “Kind of?”

Sirius’s lips twitched.

James said, “You were the biggest dick ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Sirius nodded, “I s’pose I probably was.” He took a deep breath and leaned back in the tub, sinking himself low in the white porcelain walls so he was only just barely peering over the rim of the tub. Sirius’s hair stuck out, hanging over the back wall of the basin. His eyes rolled up to look at James. “Are you still mad with me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” James replied. “I’m just glad you’re… okay.” He paused. “You are, aren’t you? Okay?”

Sirius said, “I’m not entirely sure yet.”




James was torn between going to see Charlus and staying with Sirius that day. He wished he could split himself in two and do both. He was worried about his friend and his dad both. Sirius had fallen asleep curled in the basin of the bathtub by sunrise and James had left the bathroom and his bedroom doors opened and lay on his bed, awake, listening in case Sirius called for him. His dreams were still swirling about in his mind, too, the image of Kostos Mopsus and that hummingbird weighing heavily in his mind...

The first stretches of the sun’s rays were dancing on his nose when there came a clicking at the window and he sat up to see Bubo and another owl sitting on the sill, carrying two letters and a small package. James rolled out of bed and went over to let them in and the second owl dropped his half of the package and stuck out his leg militantly so James gave him a couple owl nuts and watched him fly off out the window before he attended to Bubo, who nibbled his fingers happily with her beak before taking her nut treat and flapping over to land on her perch in the corner of the room.

The package and one of the letters were for Sirius, from Lily Evans, and the second letter was for him -- and his heart thrilled because it was also from Lily Evans and he quickly brought the envelope to his nose to sniff it and was disappointed that it only smelled like paper, not like her. He undid the envelope carefully, preserving the wax seal she’d pressed onto the back - it was made of a rose-coloured wax with a loopy L.E. monogram pressed into the center. Inside was folded several sheets of muggle lined paper, written upon with a purple muggle pen. James marvelled at the paper for a moment, thinking how much easier lined paper must be to write on than a parchment would be and wondered why all the kids at Hogwarts weren’t using it. Then he unfolded the letter and pressed it flat against the duvet and read it.

Dear James,
I’m glad you got a chance to come out to the sea and hang around with Sirius and I. We had a lot of fun, I really rather enjoyed your company -- shocking isn’t it? (Here she’d drawn a smiley face, winking with it’s tongue out and James laughed and stuck his tongue out back at the little drawing and kept reading.)
I’m sorry it came to an end the way it did. I hope everything is alright with your Da. Sirius mentioned you were going through some stuff, but he didn’t go into any details. He said you were rather upset though and I’ve been worrying about you since. I wish I was there to hold your hand and tell you it’ll be alright, as you did for me in December. What was it you said? As long as you need me, Potter, I’ll be here for you. Something poetic and lovely like that. You said it better than I did. You’re rather good at saying things like that.
Is there a secret class for that at Hogwarts? You’d pass with flying colours.
Anyway, write me back if you wish… I hope to hear from you.
Lily

James smiled at the letter and folded it up, holding it to his chest. He stared out the window at the sun’s rays and sighed.

Sirius came in the room then, stumbling into the door. He stood in the frame, all bedraggled and looking rather sad, his eyes wet. “Post came? Is there anything… from Moony?” he asked.

James shook his head, “You’ve a package from Lily Evans.”

“That’ll be my camera.” He paused. “Marlene McKinnon’s camera. I ought to pay her back for it seeing as I have no intention of giving it back.”

“Probably.”

Sirius hovered in the door still. “Moony’s going to hate me.”

“Why would he hate you?”

Tears filled Sirius’s eyes, “Because I fucked with Ace Dante.”

James stared at the duvet.

Sirius murmured, “James, I’ve made such a lot of mistakes.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“I feel like one giant fucking mistake.”

“You’re not a giant mistake, Sirius. You’ve made mistakes, yes, but you aren’t one yourself.”

Sirius leaned against the frame, almost hugging it, and he pressed his cheek to it. “I have a confession.”

“What is it, mate?”

Sirius thought a moment how to say it, keeping his eyes diverted from James’s, and he took a deep breath. “My mum’s been writing me. Since October... at least once a week.” He hesitated. “I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but… but a little bit of me dies every time. And… and I think there’s a dementor in my chest because of the hole she made in me with those letters and… and I’ve been a bit mad because every time there’s silence… there’s just… Achlys; that’s her name, the dementor, I mean. And she squeezes my heart, James. And… I don’t know how to get her out of there and…” Sirius’s lips trembled. “That’s why I went to Ace’s… and… and when he kissed me… I… I didn’t stop him because… because I needed to feel something besides her crushing my heart… She crushes me, James. I’m dying inside, my soul is breaking. She’s breaking it. She’s giving me the Kiss from the inside out.”

James stared at him with searching eyes.

“I need… help,” Sirius whispered.

James nodded.

“Gods. James, I need help.” Sirius covered his eyes.

James put Lily’s letter down and slid off the bed and went over and hugged Sirius. Sirius turned into James and lay his head against James’s shoulder and James held on, resting his cheek against Sirius’s head. “We’ll get you help, mate. We’ll get her out.”