Chapter Text
Whenever Sirius gets gloomy with the state of the world, he finds himself thinking of the Arrival Gate at Heathrow Airport.
Growing up as he did, his general opinion was that life is a cruel thing, ruled by greed and hatred. That the world as he knew it hung on the balance of his mother’s violent temper and scathing insults. Now, he doesn’t see it that way. It seems to him, that love is everywhere. He feels that he can slow down and see it in the simple things now. Love is gentle—the Potters showed him that. It exists in kind touches, gentle affirmations, and homecooked meals. He also sees it in strangers, people who are randomly kind, people who give way on the roads, and people who surprise each other with flowers. That night when he showed up on the Potters’ doorstep at sixteen, after all he had gone through at 12 Grimmauld Place, he expected scalding, chastising remarks, and rejection. But no, all that he received from that family were messages of love.
So, now he believes confidently that if you look for it, love actually is all around.
-
Dorcas thinks that the wedding is too perfect. It’s going too well and it’s making her itch. The flowers are all gorgeous, the cake looks amazing, and the light is shining into the church in a way that is offensively stunning. It’s filled to the brink with an eclectic collection of people, all seemingly bursting at the opportunity to be in the room and witness the ceremony.
Next to her, a stunning bride to be is fidgeting and rocking back and forth on her feet. Dorcas grabs her shoulder to steady her. “Are you sure that everything is going alight?” Mary asks, fingers dancing around her waist like she’s trying to put her hands in pockets that don’t exist.
“All good. It’s all perfect. No surprises on my part,” Dorcas answers.
Mary snorts, “so not like my hen's party?”
“Unlike the hen's party.”
“Do you finally admit that the prostitute police officer who showed up at my door was a mistake?” Mary asks. Her tone is half jovial, half menacing.
Dorcas Cringes, “I definitely do.”
“It would have been amazing though if it wasn’t a man.” Dorcas laughs slightly and Mary elbows her gently in the side, just in time for the organ to start and for a woman in a white dress to walk through the door of the church.
Ah. Yes. The most frustrating thing about Mary’s perfect wedding. Her perfect, frustratingly charming bride. Marlene. Dorcas steps to the side once Marlene makes her way to the stage, pulling out a cam recorder as she does. She can’t help but gaze at Marlene through the lens, enchanted by the shape of her smile, the trim of her dress, and her slim fingers and Mary slides a wedding band on at the end of the ceremony. She seemingly falls into a trance, the grainy camera screen a window through which she can view the whole thing. Through which she can pretend it’s just a movie. She tries to get the best angle she can of the kiss, Marlene’s face in full view. The perfect radiant Bride.
Before she knows it, Mary is turning towards her, Cheshire grin on her face. “So you did resist the temptation for any more surprises?”
“Yes,” Dorcas grins. “I’m so very mature now.”
She waits until Marlene and Mary have started walking away before she gives a signal to the band to start playing, her grin widening at the thought of Marlene’s surprised and overjoyed face.
-
James was worried that Harry might need to go to the toilet in the middle of the precession but judging from the constant roll of tears streaming gently down his face, he’s worried that the boy might become dehydrated. He doesn’t practice stoicism, or believe that boys don’t cry, he just doesn’t think that Lily would have wanted him to be a sopping mess at her funeral. She always steadied him, evened him out, and made him rational. James didn’t think that the effect she had on him should cease after her death.
To be honest, he sort of feels relieved that she’s dead, that she’s at peace. She suffered so much towards the end, her fiery red hair was gone, and her smile morphed into a grimace of pain as she fought through an impossibly high dose of radiotherapy as part of her experimental treatment. She had wanted to stay alive for Harry, to make sure he had a mum and someone to talk to. Lily was always good at getting what she wanted, but not even she could win a battle against stage four ovarian cancer.
“And now, James wishes to share a few final words.” He's startled by the sound of his name spoken by the priest, but he wrenches himself from his seat non the less.
Standing behind the microphone, he looks out at the crowd for a moment, eyes catching on Harry before looking away as the boy cries harder. He promised that he would never punish Harry for looking like his mother, and didn’t want him to feel like James found it painful to look at him and see Lily, but in that moment it was hard to keep his promise. From Harry’s right, Sirius wraps his arm around his small frame, looking Harry in the eye as he too silently cries. From Sirius’s right, Regulus has a hand on his brother's shoulder, a silent comfort and solidarity. It makes James smile enough to keep going. Regulus was his first love, Sirius was his other half and Harry was his entire life. A brother with his brother with his godson.
Taking a deep breath, he starts to speak. “As you’re aware, Lily and I, unfortunately, had a lot of time to prepare for this moment. While it is a horrible thing to have to prepare for, it actually provided me with a lot of comfort in her death, because I knew that she didn’t have to suffer any longer. Our beautiful and kind Lily insisted that I find a hot date to take to her funeral. While we hadn’t been together for a long while before she died, I still don’t think bringing a date to your former wife's funeral is quite appropriate. I love her too much to not ignore that request. But there were things she was very clear about, like the video I’m unfortunately about it show you.” If it were any regular speech, James would have laughed a bit, but all he can do no is choke on a teary smile. “She insisted that I show it and I insisted that I would never. And, as per usual, my lovely fiery girl, Harry’s mum, and one of my best of friends got her way. So, this is her final farewell, not through me but through the dulcet tones of Don McLean.”
He was relieved to see Harry crack a weak smile through the tears as the song started and his mother’s face appeared on the screen. Even Regulus offered a look of fondness as his eyes went glassy.
So bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing, "This'll be the day that I die"
This will be the day that I die
-
Twenty years after that night he left the house he grew up in, Sirius enters Number 10 Downing Street. For the first time… because he lives here now. Cameras flash in a blinding light show and shouts come from every which way. It’s a bizarre way to enter one’s home. He gives a wave to the crowd, which makes the noise and the shouting raise perhaps even louder. Earlier in his career, Sirius would have wanted to stop and answer every question, to dissect their words and return a well analysed and eloquent response. He doesn’t know if it’s age or the fact that politics has made him extremely jaded, but Sirius has learned that it’s often best to keep walking,
Besides, after Lily, he’s found it quite rewarding to blindly fling himself into the fast-paced nature of work. It’s easy to do when you’ve just been elected as Prime Minister he supposes. What isn’t easy is the silence, that happens at night, in the morning, and when his secretary isn’t barking in his ear. It’s the silence of his friend, who he had known since he was twelve and he has now said goodbye to forever. It’s the silence of Harry, who doesn’t come out of his room. But the long silence that lingers over his chest is the fact every day, he feels he is becoming lonelier at an exponential rate.
The door clicks shut behind him, drowning out the bustle and chaos of the press. He immediately reaches out to shake Minnie’s hand, her grip strong as ever.
“Welcome, Prime Minister,” she says, sounding slightly bemused.
“God that sounds so strange,” he replies.
“How are you feeling?”
He grins. “Feeling a bit like a deer who has taken its first steps, to be frank, Minerva.”
“I should hope not if you’re running the country, God knows we need someone competent and ready,” she tuts goodhumoredly. “Let’s go through and meet the Downing Street staff.”
“Anything to put off actually running the place.”
Minnie tuts. “Wouldn’t expect anything less Sirius, I have no doubt you’ll be once again finding as much trouble as you can.”
She leads him through to a row of employees, who similar to her have straight backs and stiff upper lips. She introduces Poppy, a coordinator and Filch a housekeeper. He shakes their hands and keeps introductions curt before excusing them. It’s all much the same until he reaches the end.
“–And this is Remus, just like you, he’s new.”
Remus is slouched slightly, a nervous smile on his face and when he shakes Sirius’ hand it’s slightly clammy. “Hello Remus,” Sirius chokes on his words. When Remus finally looks him in the eye, he knows it’s over, because the man is absolutely gorgeous. He’s tall when he straightens up, with a few inches on Sirius but maybe a few fewer years. Across his face, Sirius can see faint scars that catch in the light, and they somehow make him appear even more dazzling.
“Hello Sirius,” he replies, and his eyes instantly widen in horror. Sirius was too distracted by the sound of his name rolling off Remus’ tongue coated in a thick Welsh accent to notice the impropriety if he’s honest. “I mean Mr Prime Minister Sir, well shit, I can’t believe I just said all this.” His eyes widen impossibly further, and Sirius stifles a laugh. “Oh no, now I’ve gone as shit! And now I’ve said it twice! You’ll have to forgive me, Sir.”
Sirius wracks his brain, trying to come up with some smooth charismatic response. All that he spits out is; “it’s all fine. Now if you’d gone and said ‘fuck’ then it would have been a real issue.”
He seems relieved yet still slightly wary. “Thanks Sir, I did have an awful feeling that I was going to Fuck up badly when I– Oh Piss.” He blushes hugely, it’s a bright red that goes all across his face and down his neck—probably keeps going down, down—
“Right Mr Prime Minister,” Minerva interrupts. “Let me go get my things, it’s time we actually got to work on fixing the country.”
He takes one last glance at Remus, conscious to not let it linger. “Right, that sounds perfect.”
Inside Sirius’ office is dead quiet, already he can see scandalous news articles flashing before his eyes as a warning not to get too close. “Jesus, bugger, shit.” He whispers, feeling like a man who has just committed a crime that will have him locked up for life. He’s never believed in nor experienced love at first sight, but Remus’ thick accent, gentle smile, and complete and utter lack of decorum just might change his mind.