The Corpse That Lived.

Chapter 31

Sirius should have known something was up when Lily cornered him in the study three days before the girls came home.

She had that look. The one that meant she'd been rehearsing this conversation in her head while doing the washing up or organizing potion ingredients. The look that had terrified lesser wizards and made even James tread carefully.

"Sit," she said, pointing at the armchair by the fire.

"I'm not a dog, Evans."

"Potter," she corrected automatically. It was a habit he couldn't stop, but she didn't seem to mind. "And you literally turn into a dog, so that argument doesn't work. Sit."

He sat, sprawling in the chair with a casual grace he definitely didn't feel. "What's this about? Did I forget something from Diagon Alley? Because I swear I got everything—"

"This isn't about shopping." She settled on the ottoman across from him, close enough that he could see the determination in her eyes. "This is about you."

Dread pooled in his stomach. "Me?"

"You're lonely, Sirius."

The words hit him like a stunner. "I'm not—"

"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't lie to me. I've known you too long." Her voice gentled. "You're here all the time, which we love. The girls adore you, James would be lost without you, and you know I..." She paused, something flickering across her face too quickly for him to catch. "You're family. But you deserve your own family. Your own life."

"I have a life."

"You have our life." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "When was the last time you went on a date? A real date, not some one-night thing you never talk about. With someone who could be something."

"I don't need—"

"There's a woman at St. Mungo's," Lily continued, steamrolling right over his protest. "Sarah. She's a Healer in the Spell Damage ward. Brilliant, funny, gorgeous blonde hair." She stopped. "She's been asking about you."

"No."

"You haven't even heard—"

"No, Lily." He sat up straighter, trying to find a way to say this that wouldn't give everything away. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. Really. But I'm not interested."

"In Sarah specifically, or in dating?"

"Just... not interested. I'm fine as I am."

"Don't you want someone to come home to? Someone who's yours? Someone to build a life with?"

"I'm happy," he said, and it was true and a lie all at once. "This is enough. You, James, Remus, the girls. It's more than I ever thought I'd have."

"But don't you want more?"

"No." The word came out harder than he intended. "I don't. Can we please drop this?"

"Sarah's really lovely—"

"Lily. Please."

Something in his voice must have gotten through because she stopped. "I worry about you," she said finally. "When James and I are gone, when the girls are grown and living their own lives... I don't want you to be alone."

"I won't be. I'll have Remus."

"Remus will find someone eventually too."

"Then I'll get a cat. Maybe be one of those spinsters with ten of them." He tried for levity. "I'll be that eccentric uncle the girls talk about at dinner parties. 'Oh yes, Uncle Padfoot, lives alone with seventeen cats and an extensive collection of Muggle motorcycles. Quite mad. We love him.'"