The Corpse That Lived.

Chapter 8

James Potter embraced Sirius as family when he was little more than a child, and when Lily Evans became Lily Potter, she accepted him as a brother, as her family. It was never questioned, never spoken of, always just assumed. They were family, in all the ways that mattered.

So yes, Sirius did wake up feeling extremely guilty and sick. His troubled conscience poked and prodded at his mind, forcing him to acknowledge what he managed to push aside until now. He could only abide by the wishes of a troubled ten-year old for so long. He had given Dahlia time, he had let her recover from her illness, he had eased him her the idea of parents and he could no longer hide the secret from James and Lily. They deserved to be freed from the hell of mourning, even if it only caused brand new suffering. They deserved to know their daughter was alive even if their daughter wouldn't go with them.

Sirius would keep his promise to Dahlia; his goddaughter wasn't going anywhere until she was ready, but he would not let another day pass with James and Lily kept in the dark. Sirius didn't forget about Hyacinth of course , but nothing would make any of this easier or less painful for Dahlia.

He pushed the door open as quietly as possible and couldn't help smiling at the sight of Dahlia sprawled out on the bed, blankets all askew and arms akimbo. He stepped to her side and adjusted the blankets, covering her up once more and resolving to do something about the horrid state of this room. Perhaps they could fix it up together, give Dahlia a little relief from the mental anguish she would undoubtedly endure today.

The tug on her blankets did little to rouse Dahlia, and he shifted only slightly and exhaled deeply in exhaustion. With one last lingering glance, Sirius returned downstairs and stood in front of the fireplace for a moment, gathering every last bit of his Gryffindor courage. He wasn't quite sure he ever achieved it, but he forced himself to scoop a bit of powder out of the urn and tossed it into the flames.

***

Lily took a sip of her tea and gazed out her large kitchen window into the back garden. This weekend had felt so terribly long, and even now as things were supposed to return to normal, she felt unsettled and out of sorts. Staring out the window at her lovely garden, she thought of when the twins were first born once,how excited James had been to teach them to play Quidditch. Before they could even walk James was planning to build for the girls.

They used the garden. James built his pitch. But it was for Hyacinth, not Dahlia and today it just made her feel so bone-achingly sad. Perhaps it had been a mistake rebuilding in Godric's Hollow. Perhaps living here was making it harder for her to move on. She felt a strange tugging in her chest since Halloween, and it left her with an ache that had mostly dulled over the years.

"Lily?" her husband's voice called to her, and Lily started a bit as she realised he'd been saying her name.

"Morning, Love," she greeted him with a weary smile and joined him at the table for breakfast. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, frowning worriedly at her far away expression."Everything all right?"

"Sometimes I think it was a mistake staying here," she shook her head. "We could have gone to the manor."

"You hate the manor," he reminded her gently. "Too big and too stuffy, you always said."

"But it wouldn't be the place where our daughter died. We walk past her grave every day. Do you think that's healthy?" she wondered.

James set down his tea and regarded her carefully. "What's this about, Lily? You've never said anything about this before."

"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh, feeling the tears sting her eyes as she gazed out to the garden again. "I don't know, I just... I feel her, James. I have since the anniversary. Like she needs me, or she's calling to me. It's strange. I've never felt this way before."