Chapter 82: Fifth Year: Aftermath
Summary:
CW for description of nasty abuse stuff. Also a homophobic slur towards the end (might only be a slur in the UK, but still a slur.)
Chapter Text
No one was angry that they'd tried to protect Sirius. Mrs Potter rose from her own bed when Mr Potter returned from wherever he'd been, and they both agreed that Dumbledore was sure to arrive of his own accord, eventually, and anything he wanted to ask Sirius could wait until then.
They salvaged the rest of the morning as best they could. Mr Potter cheerfully offered to apparate all of the presents up to Sirius's bedroom, but Sirius wouldn't have it.
"My legs work fine!" He insisted, "I want to come down and see the tree!"
So, they all gathered themselves up and got dressed or changed, then reconvened half an hour later in the living room. Remus couldn't help staring at the patch of carpet where he had seen Sirius's body fall less than twelve hours previous. The pain was sharp and startling. He had to look at the current, conscious Sirius; bundled up in blankets with yet another mug of tea on the couch opposite him, just to feel normal again.
The unwrapping of gifts still felt as joyful and natural as ever. A free for all, no order to it, they simply tore at wrapping paper until they were surrounded by it, strips of brightly coloured debris. It didn't matter what anyone got, only the memory of having received something nice on that awful morning. The Potters, of course, had plenty ready for both Sirius and Remus, and they promised Sirius even more yet to come -
"We'll get you some nice pictures, to brighten up your room," Mrs Potter said, "Which quidditch team do you support, sweetheart? Or perhaps one of those rock stars you kids like?"
Sirius looked at her as if he'd just received the most wonderful gift of his life. Perhaps he had.
"Most of my stuff's at Hogwarts," he said. "It's just clothes at home..." He looked a bit embarrassed, and Remus knew he was also thinking about the rude posters he had permanently affixed to his bedroom walls. You could be sure he would not be doing that in his new room at the Potter's.
"Well, you can borrow some of James's things for a little while. Perhaps we'll go shopping in the new year."
They sat down to a quiet Christmas lunch. Evidently, someone had disinvited the guests that had been planned for - which to Remus was a blessing. He was already worm thin from too much worry and not enough sleep; he did not need Darius Barebones thrown into the mix. He did think of the Pettigrews, and wonder if Peter was worried, or feeling left out.
Gully was just about to set light to the Christmas pudding when the *CRACK* of apparition sounded outside the front gate. Dumbledore. Sirius jumped, and looked as if he wanted to get up from the table, but stayed put. Mr Potter smiled at them all reassuringly and went to the door.
Everyone listened intently.
"Albus! Merry Christmas,"
"Fleamont. I take it Sirius has had his rest?"
"Yes, we were just about to have--"
"I did request that you contact me as soon as he woke up."
"Come in, Dumbledore. Join us for some pudding."
Dumbledore stalked into the room. He was wearing sombre robes in deep, brownish maroon, like dried blood. He looked as though his night had been just as long as theirs. He was followed in by a stocky man who resembled a rather grizzled bulldog. He had a mass of greyish-ginger hair, and mean dark eyes which darted furtively around the room, as if scouting for trouble.
