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Lookin' back on how it was
In years gone by
And the good times that I had
Makes today seem rather sad
So much has changed.— Yesterday Once More, The Carpenters
“—funniest bloke around, no one would leave a conversation with him without falling over laughing. There was this charm about him, he never saw anything he couldn't love and—”
Sirius’ mind drifts into itself and out of it. He's there one moment, gone the next. Like this, he feels he's an observer, a stranger overlooking another stranger’s funeral. There's no real sadness, but a shared sense of loss.
“—never a dull moment. I remember when he—”
“So, set the scene, we’re in sixth year and— oh, you're going to love this, James, I don't care I’m telling everyone all of it. So sixth year James was—”
Was. Right, Sirius has to think of James in the past tense now. It is a little cruel isn't it? Isn't doing so for one brother enough.
He shakes his head. He can't think of him . Not today.
A nudge next to him pulls him out of his reverie. “You okay?” A voice enters his headspace, it’s familiar, tender.
Remus.
Sirius barely nods, eye caught at the slightly overgrown weed around the headstone. He’d have to make a complaint. The dead deserve mowed lawns too, don't they? The dead deserve flowers, visits from people who loved them, clean headstones.
James. James deserved everything. James deserved to be alive.
IN LOVING MEMORY
JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER
SON, BROTHER, BEST FRIEND
27 March 1960 — 23 August 1984
Blinking a rush of tears away, he tries to focus on the eulogies. Lily's speaking, he thinks. Her voice is as sweet as ever. If you hadn’t known, you’d think she were serenading a lover, the way she spoke with such fondness and love.
That was James— he'd loved so much, and was so loved in return. Everyone here is a testament to that.
“And to James, if you’re listening, from wherever you are–” A sniffle. “You still owe me 10 quid you prick.” The crowd huffs a laugh, it's a soft one, all they can give, but a laugh nonetheless. “I love you, James Fleamont. Always and forever,” she finishes.
With that, Sirius is up next. Slipping his fingers into the pocket of his coat, he brings out his eulogy. Watching her step away from the center of the crowd, it’s obvious that Lily's letter is a striking contrast to his own; her neat penmanship and Sirius’ erratic writing, with ink splotching every 2nd sentence. Briefly his mind thinks of the 7 versions that lay scattered across his room.
Right foot forward.
Left foot forward.
It feels achingly slow but the next thing he knows, he’s facing everyone, with James in front of him. He scans to look for any strangers who'd dropped by to say their prayers for someone they don't know, so he could stare at them instead and forget that he's here. Unfortunately, he’s amongst family, with sorrow hanging on every face, every tear.
He looks down at his letter instead.
There's a sudden need to tell James about this— like he's done with everything for more than half his life. He wants to tell him how weird it is, to give a eulogy at your best friend’s funeral. And then he’d laugh and crack a few jokes. And then Sirius would laugh, always, even if he didn't find it funny— but it never happens, James is always funny.
Was.
Was always funny.
And he's not here for him to tell him about how silly this is.
Maybe that in itself is more tragic and losing a best friend.
Looking up, he locks eyes with hazel ones. There’s a simmering pain within them, if the tears brimming at the edge are of any indication. Remus has always been the stronger one between all 4 of them, the last to cry.
Remus nods. It’s a tender gesture. One of love and support. And it should be enough. But it isn't.
Sirius wants to leave. He doesn't want to be here. He wants to go home and talk to James.
James James James James jamesjamesjamesjamesjames
He's not here god damn it
The thought inflates and lodges itself in Sirius' throat. He swallows around it but finds he can’t— it’s too much. James should be here, to give this stupid speech for him, because he shouldn't be dead. He wants to cry and throw up at the same time.
It hurts.
It hurts so much. And it shouldn’t hurt this much. It’s just one person. One person.
But James wasn't just a person. He was everything. The light in everyone’s lives is a cliche saying, but that was what James was. He was akin to the sun, the way he'd been a reminder that life was worth living, worth a few more laughs, as long as one kept going.
Sirius’ life is so intertwined with James and his family, that almost every memory he owns has James in it. He’d been part of so many of his firsts. He was his first friend in school, his first kiss, his first heartbreak. He’d owned his first pet with him, traveled for the first time out of the country with him.
It’s both a blessing and a curse, to be forced to miss James for as long as he can remember.
“I—” His voice breaks.
He takes a deep breath. All he has to do is read what he has written. It’s not much–
–but it's honest work, James’ voice fills in for him.
“I can’t do this,” he whispers to himself. His fingers shake– why are they shaking, why haven't they stopped shaking.
He looks up again, his breath coming out in shudders. Remus’ wide eyes are filled with concern. Next to him, he sees Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. Mum and dad.
As distraught as they are, they both still look at Sirius with so much love. Euphemia nods and smiles, a tear rolling down her cheek, encouraging him to continue. Fleamont pats his chest with his hand. I’m with you, son, it means.
“I stand here today with all of you, to say goodbye to James, who was a filial son, a loving brother, a loyal friend, and a good person. There was no one who didn't love him, and no one he didn't love. He found–” Sirius lets out a sob.
It’s embarrassing, he knows, but he feels nothing. His vision blurs.
“He found joy in everything he did,” he continues. “And in turn, everything felt joyful with him around.”
He brings up one arm to forcefully rub at his eyes. He needs to see this through. “I met him when I was 6. He was—”
Sirius continues until about a 1 ⁄ 3 of a way in, when his sobs start getting in the way of his speech. It's when he brings up the moment James brought Sirius home for his parents to take him in as their second son that he loses it— sinking into a squat next to the headstone and burying his face into his knees as he cries.
A pair of warm hands envelop his form, soothing him with soft rubs along his back. He lets out a sound, or two, he doesn't know, doesn't care.
He doesn't want to be here anymore.
“Hmm, what was that, love?” Remus asks. He must be speaking right next to his ear, given Sirius can hear him despite how soft he is.
“I don't want to do it anymore.”
“That’s okay.” He lays a soft kiss on Sirius’ temple. “That’s okay, Sirius. James would understand.”
Sirius shakes his head furiously. No. “I've got to finish it. I can’t just– I can’t–”
“Let me do it.”
“Huh?”
Sirius’ legs burn and start to go numb, the position not agreeing with his lower limbs. Good, he thinks absently, let it hurt. Maybe it'll distract him from his grief.
“Let me read it for you,” Remus continues, the sweetheart.
He leans his weight onto his lover, his breath choking up again as he feels another bout of tears threatening to fall.
“Baby.”
Sirius nods, hands him the now-wet eulogy. He stands, with Remus’ help. Remus reads off from where he stopped, his voice monotonous and dull.
He stops listening and looks up to the sky, wondering if James saw all of that from where he is. Wonders if he would tease him, for his dramatics.
The eulogy comes and goes. Remus reads his own with little difficulty and they head back to where they were standing once it's over.
Remus grips Sirius’ shoulder, pulls him close. It is then he realizes he's still shaking.
Peter goes next. Then Mary. Then Pandora. She cries a little into hers but regains composure immediately. As she walks back to stand next to Lily, Sirius’ heart twists.
He knows what’s coming next.
Fleamont steps forward, portable radio in hand. There's a hushed silence from the crowd at the movement. Not just. Even the birds have seemed to have stopped their singing.
He places the radio at the head of the gravestone, fidgets with the cassette tape he removes from his pocket and slots it in.
“Yello?” It’s James’ voice. “Is this working? Testing one, two, three, one, two, three. Hellllooooooooooo, I am a ghoooooooost,” followed by familiar rambunctious laughter.
Some people in the crowd laugh sadly. Some of them smile.
Sirius turns and walks away. He can't do this. Not today. He’s not strong enough.
I'm sorry James.
He thinks he hears Remus calling for him but he doesn't care, doesn't look back. He walks and he walks and he walks.
It’s months later before he brings himself to the graveyard again. It’s the early weeks of spring, the smell of dew clinging onto every flower, every leaf in the cemetery. Sirius takes in a deep breath, relishing in the freshness of the morning air. This was James’ favourite season, because that meant that summer was nearby, which was his actual favourite season.
The bouquets in his hands are self-arranged, bows and all. He’d collected all his favourite flowers, all with their meaning and significance in mind, something he’d learned during his brief apprenticeship at Dora’s Flora. Pandora had been more than happy to take him under her wing. It had been refreshing, having something new his hands could work on. Learning a new skill.
He smiles, wondering what they'd think of them. He’d even gotten them matching colours. And they’d better not complain, his fingers still hurt from the thorns he'd sustained this morning.
IN LOVING MEMORY
JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER
SON, BROTHER, BEST FRIEND
27 March 1960 — 23 August 1984
“Hello, Prongs,” he whispers.
Kneeling down at the gravestone, he places one bouquet onto it, gently balancing it so it wouldn't be blown off by wind.
He closes his eyes and says a brief silent prayer.
He crosses over to the next spot, eyes the other gravestone that lays adjacent to James’. It’s equally as clean, with no overgrown weed, courtesy to Sirius’ complaints.
REST IN PEACE
REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK
BROTHER, LOVER
25 June 1961 — 22 August 1983
“Hey, you,” Sirius puts the other bouquet down and sits on the ground.
“Missed me? I bet you have.” Sirius smiles wryly.
“Flowers are from moi , by the way.”
He puts on a voice. Oh wow thank you, these are beautiful.
“Yeah, I know. Pans helped with the arrangement, but the choice of flowers— all me.”
Huh, you really do have an eye.
“I do, don’t I? Why thank you, dear brother. I've never known you to be so sweet.”
They chat. Or at least, Sirius does the chatting, Regulus listens. It’s like nothing’s changed.
When Sirius finally goes to sit in front of James, he's quiet at first. James was the more boisterous amongst the two.
He sighs. “I miss you, you nonce.”
He feels like crying, just a little, but the tears won't come and his eyes remain dry. The past few months have been enough sobbing for the rest of his life, thank you very much, he'd much rather laugh these days.
“So,” he claps his hands together. “Where do I start?”
“Ah! Pandora and Lily are engaged! Fucking finally, am I right?” He laughs. “God, they're so sweet, Prongs, you should see how much PDA they do in front of me, it's insane."
Yeah, like you and Remus don't suck face every second of every day.
“Hey, Moons and I aren't that bad, and we never do PDA. We are respectable citizens.”
Yeah, keep lying to yourself Black. You and Moony are disgusting blerghhhhh
“No, we aren't! You're just a hater.”
And you're just a liar.
“What about you and Reggie, huh?” Sirius says incredulously. “Oh, I never said anything then, being the cool friend and coolest brother on God's green earth and all that, but you guys were worse… You guys were— oh, I don't even want to—”
HA! I never claimed not to be. In fact, I am very proud of the fact that Reg and I suck face all the time. And when no ones watching, we even suck–
He clutches at his ears as he shouts, "WHAT the fuck? I’m leaving this graveyard and never coming back if you finish that sentence.”
Oh, you could never. You’re obsessed with me, Black. Get used to it.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “You’re a bastard.”
Am I a pretty bastard, at least?
Sirius snorts. “Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted. The lovebirds are planning to hold their wedding at Godric’s Hall coming fall and there’s going to be a live band, and—”
For the first time, he talks for both James and himself. But he doesn't mind. So he talks and he talks, and then he laughs then he talks some more.
When Sirius brings himself to head home for the day, he looks back at the both of them with a fond smile.
One day down, only the rest of his life to go.
“Right, Remus is bemoaning my absence. I can feel it in my bones.” Waving them goodbye, he turns to walk down the road to his parked car.
“See ya later, ya animals!” He shouts without turning back.