Sirius' Guide to Pissing off Parents

Small Dreams

It's the best place to heal, Potter Manor – at least for Sirius. It's the opposite of everything painful in his life; no reminders lurking in dark corners, only bright laughter, and homeliness. James is always around and is just as energetic and bright as always. He'll never get over his envy, though – at least he doesn't think he will. Even though Potter Manor is his home now, he wonders what sort of a person he would be if it had been all along. James is so warm, so colourful, with a magnetism that speaks of coming from a loving home and it's something he'll never be able to replicate.

When Sirius had first come to Potter Manor, he'd only been thirteen. He'd been nervous to meet James' parents, having assumed they wouldn't like him even when James said otherwise. It had taken weeks for him to feel comfortable around them, but then Euphemia had offered him a hug in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep because of a storm. She'd held him so lovingly that he'd broken down into sobs.

When he escaped Grimmauld Place three years later, still trembling from aftershocks of the cruciatus, and had fallen back into her arms, finally allowing himself to slip into unconsciousness.

He could see some of his initial uncertainty in Freia. She looks tired the next morning and Sirius feels bad for dragging her away from her home. He has the almost painful urge to go over and wrap her in his arms, just like James' mother did, as she comes padding barefoot into the kitchen in an old pair of tartan pyjamas.

She sits down at the table with him and James, who were talking about something Sirius can't really remember as the sun shines across her face and deep, chocolate coloured eyes.

He puts out his hand on the table palm side up and she glances at it confused.

"What?"

"I need a flower," he replies, casually. She looks a bit more baffled but opens her hand and produces one – it's a light, sky blue. He plucks it from her palm and slots it carefully behind one of her ears, brushing her hair back to do so and trying not to let the tips of his fingers linger on the side of her neck. It's the closest he lets himself get, knowing she'd pulled away from him yesterday.

She looks at him sheepishly and lets out a small smile.

"Lily can do that," James says, gesturing to the flower tucked behind her ear.

Sirius had fully forgotten he was in the room, a little transfixed by crinkled eyes, brown hair and blue.

"Really?" Freia asks.

"Yeah, it was one of the first bits of magic she did."

"Mine too."

Sirius takes a grateful sip of coffee as they talk and can't help but think that he needs to get a grip. Freia isn't into him, at least not like that, he needs to stop being quite so obvious. It once again occurs to him that he is fucked, and he lets out a groan.

"What?" Freia asks.

"Nothing," he replies, lowering his forehead to the table and only just resisting banging his head against it.

"Don't worry about him. Coffee's not caught up yet," James fills in, patting Sirius' head like he's Padfoot, the tone patronising. Sirius flips him off. James is a prick.

"Darling, you know the rule about swearing in this house," Euphemia says, walking into the room and placing a hammer and an instrument-of-torture looking thing on the table before going to the pantry to retrieve breakfast supplies.

"No swearing unless it's funny," he bemoans.

"And who says whether or not it's funny?"

"You. But that seems completely unfair. We're adults now – I think I should have a say on whether things are funny or not. Like that time when James called my bike a dick-mobile. Not funny."