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The Potters


The moon was bright in the sky and there was snow flurrying through the air, like falling stars in the lamp posts that lined the street that the Potters lived on in Godric’s Hollow. It all looked rather like a snowglobe. James was laying on his stomach on the floor in the living room in his snitch-and-quaffle pyjamas - which were technically a whole size too small, showing his ankles by several inches, but were his absolute favorites. He was watching the telly, his chin propped up on a squashed up throw pillow.

“James, it’s time for bed,” Dora said, coming in and waving her wand to shut off the TV set. She collected the cups and platters from the table. “Up, up, up,” she said.

“Aw, mom, c’mon it’s holiday,” James moaned, “What do I have to go to bed so ruddy early for? I’m not even --” he yawned, “-- tired.”

“Hmm, you sound awfully tired to me,” she said, smirking as her son stretched.

“Oh no, not at all,” James said, “We stay up loads later at school, every night!”

Dora raised an eyebrow.

“Besides, The Doctor was just about to destroy the Sea Devils,” James complained, tossing the pillow back onto the couch. “Can’t I at least see how it ends?”

Dora shook her head, “You’ve seen how it ends, Mr. Potter. You’ve seen all of them. Multiple times. Now off to bed with you. I’ll be up in a minute to check on you.” She started toward the kitchen and was nearly there when the doorbell rang.

Dora and James both turned to look down the narrow hallway to the front door in curiousity. Charlus, who had been upstairs, was just coming down and he glanced back at the two of them. “I’ll get it,” he said. Withdrawing his wand, he moved up to the door and peered out into the dark through the peephole. With all of the attacks and horribleness going on out there, one could never be too careful, he supposed, though Charlus highly doubted whether Voldemort would show up on somebody’s doorstep and ring the bell to get into avada kedavra them all.

Somehow the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters didn’t seem like the doorbell ringing types.

“Who is it, dear?” Dora asked when Charlus pulled away from the door with a look of confused curiosity on his face.

Instead of answering, he opened the door and revealed Sirius Black, standing on the stoop, snow speckling his hair, his face and fingers deep pink from cold. Sirius had a bag slung over his shoulder and he was soaked from the knees down where the snow had seeped through his clothes and into his trainers.

Sirius!” James exclaimed, running forward and grabbing hold on his shivering friend and yanking him inside. Charlus closed the door behind them. “Sirius, mate, what’re you doing out there in the cold?”

Sirius’s teeth were chattering, and he gasped out, “I - I couldn’t - I couldn’t stay th - there another m - m -minute.”

“Poor dear, he’s frozen half to death. James, bring your friend in the living room by the fire. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Did you want milk and honey?” Dora asked, springing into action.

Sirius was shivering too hard to answer, but James said, “Just honey in his mum,” and directed Sirius into the living room. He set him in a chair by the Potter’s fireplace - the one his mum usually sat in when she read her romance novels - and Charlus leaped forward to wrap a warm blanket ‘round Sirius’s shoulders. Sirius’s fingers barely could move to hold the blanket tightly closed.

Dora Potter came in the blink of an eye with a steaming cup of hot tea with honey. “I added just a touch of firewhiskey,” she said, “To warm you up. Not a lot, but you’ll notice the taste of it.”

“Th - thank you,” Sirius shivered. He struggled to hold the tea cup, the saucer clattering beneath it as he lifted it to his lips and felt the burn of the firewhiskey as he sipped. It was hot and though it scalded his tongue just a bit, he sipped it deeply anyway, eager to feel the warmth in his belly. Charlus waved his wand and the saucer levitated beside Sirius so that he had a place to rest the teacup when he was done sipping, but he wrapped his hands around the cup instead, soaking in every ounce of heat he could get.

Charlus was sitting in his own chair across the room, and Dora perched on the arm while James stayed kneeling at Sirius’s foot, staring up at his friend with wide eyes. When Sirius had been given a chance to thaw out, Charlus asked, “What were you doing out this late at night, son?” He looked at Sirius with a stern expression, “There’s untold dangers out there, with You-Know-Who’s men running amok all about the city.”

Sirius replied, “It’s not anymore dangerous out there than it was in my own house.”

Dora glanced at Charlus, their eyes met, and she asked, “What happened, dear?”

“Mother and Father… they’re dark wizards,” Sirius said, he looked at James, “They killed the Bells.”

James and Charlus looked so much alike it was comical as their eyes both widened and their jaws dropped and they both explained, “No way!” in near perfect unison.

Dora touched her husband’s arm. “It was the Blacks that killed them?” Charlus asked, tremulously.

“That’s a very strong accusation to make,” Dora commented, “How do you know?”

“It’s according to my little brother, Regulus,” Sirius replied, “He says he hears things, living at home, that Mother and Father trust him. Then he said that the Bells were bad wizards and that Lord Voldemort never makes a command without there being a good reason… and when I accused Mother, she didn’t deny it. She didn’t even flinch an eye.”

Charlus looked to the window, as though half expecting to see Walburga and Orion Black staring in with their wide, cruel grins. He waved his wand to close the curtains tighter.

“I just couldn’t stay there,” Sirius said thickly, “Knowing what they’d done, what they are. I just couldn’t. I didn’t have any place else to go. I wandered about for a bit before I remembered the ticket you sent me, James, and then I came here as quick as I could.”

“You’ll stay, of course,” Dora said quickly.

“For the night,” Charlus added.

Dora looked up at her husband.

“Thank you,” Sirius said graciously.

James stood up, “You can use some of my pyjamas, if you didn’t bring any. I’ve got extra.”

Sirius put his nearly empty teacup on the little saucer. “Alright.”

“And you can sleep in my room,” James added, “It’ll be brilliant, like at Hogwarts, except my room is really cool! Wait ‘til you see, you’ll like it, I have loads of Quidditch stuff and -- ooh, maybe we can go out to the field and play a round tomorrow, like a one-on-oner, we’ll have loads of fun and if you stay through Christmas, oh Sirius, mum makes the best butterscotch cookies --” James eagerly dragged his friend out of the room and up the stairs, his voice fading as he went prattling on and on until finally it cut off as he closed his bedroom door behind them.

Dora was still perched on the edge of her chair. She looked across the room, where Charlus was leaning against the mantle, staring down at the fire, his face a nervous line. Dora took a deep breath and stood up. “For the night only?” she asked quietly.

Charlus’s lips tightened at her words and he frowned into the warmth, his eyes sad. He said, “They could be looking for him. What’s to stop them doing to us what they’ve done to John and Penny?” he asked, talking about the Bells.

Dora took a step toward him, “What’s to stop them anyway? Whether we have the boy here or not?”

“Why give them another reason to target us?” Charlus asked, “We’ve draw enough attention being in the resistance… They’ve already threatened us, Dora, for all the work I’ve done in protecting the muggles ‘round here - all those protective charms we’ve cast… everything we've done... It could’ve been us they went for when they killed the Bells.”

“Where else is he supposed to go?” Dora asked, “He said he doesn’t have any place else. You heard the boy. What do you want to do? Send him out into the street? Or back to that place with those people? With Orion Black?”

A voice squeaked behind them, “Please don’t send me back.”

Charlus and Dora both turned to see Sirius standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of James’s brand new pyjamas that he refused to wear for the sake of his old quidditch ones. Sirius’s hair was a mess from changing, standing up all unruly and shaggy and his eyes were wide and brown and pleading. He took a step into the room in his stocking feet, clutching his hands together like a beggar. “Please. Please.”

Charlus felt a lump rise up in his throat - torn between this begging boy and the safety of his family, fear waging a war within him.

Sirius said. “They hate me, they’ll kill me if I go back.” Tears filled his eyes. “She uses the Cruciatus Curse on me, nearly everyday.”

Dora gasped.

Charlus’s eyes softened, “Bloody hell,” he murmured and he sank into the chair Sirius had been in by the fire and he ran a hand over the back of his neck, staring down at his shoes.

Dora touched his shoulder. “Of course we aren’t going to send you back there,” she said. “We’d be as bad as them if we did,” she added, looking down at her husband. He looked up at her and he nodded his consent. Dora looked at Sirius, “You’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“We’ll fix up the guest room in the morning,” Charlus said.

Sirius didn’t know what to say or what to do - he felt so grateful. James’s parents were splendid and he wanted to tell them so but he didn’t know how. “Thanks,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to come and say… just… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome dear,” Dora said.

Sirius turned and ran back up the stairs to James’s room again.

Dora looked at Charlus.

Charlus took a deep breath, “We need more charms on the house,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be outside setting them.”

Dora nodded.




It was two in the morning when Dora woke up, a strange feeling filling her. She looked over to see that Charlus was there and he was, asleep and peaceful. She pushed herself out of the bed and walked to the window, staring out at the street below and scanning her eyes about, searching for anything out of place. There wasn’t a thing to see except Bubo, who James must have let out his window before going to sleep, perched on the lamp post. Bubo ruffled his feathers to shake off the snow and gave a little owl yawn with his beak before nestling back up. She turned away from the window and walked across the room, pulling on a plush, warm robe and stepping into her slippers.

The house was silent. She walked downstairs and checked each of the windows, casting a little protective charm on each one as she went, just to reinforce the charms her husband had set. She stopped in the kitchen and made herself a small cup of camomile tea to rest her nerves, stirring in a bit of honey and just a spot of milk. She stood at the counter, staring out the window into the backyard, at the moonlight on the snow, and sipped her tea.

She was on her way back to bed when she heard the noise that had woken her up again. It was coming from James’s room. She withdrew her wand - just in case - and carefully pushed open the door to peek inside.

James’s snitch-shaped night lamp cast a soft golden glow about the room, bathing his Gryffindor quilt in the warm light. She could see the sleeping forms of both James and Sirius in the bed. Sirius, she noticed, was twitching… and whimpering. The noise she’d heard. She’d always been sensitive to that sound - ever since James was a wee little thing. She crossed the room and knelt down beside Sirius’s side of the bed, worried, and gently touched his shoulder. He was having a nightmare, she realized, seeing how his eyes moved behind their lids, franticly. He was trembling and his muscles giving little spasms as he slept, his face contorted into a look of pain.

“Sirius,” she whispered gently, “Sirius, dear, wake up.” She shook him ever so softly to break the dream.

His eyes popped open, panicked. He sat up quickly and Dora leaned back as he gasped, his heart beating wildly as he looked around. He looked so disoriented and lost for a moment, and she watched as the memory of where he was came back to him. “Shh,” she whispered, “It’s alright now. You’re safe.”

Sirius looked at her, still breathless, a sheen of sweat across his forehead and tears in his eyes. He looked so lost and so afraid… Being a good mother, Dora couldn’t imagine what sort of person could look into the eyes of their child and treat them so horribly that they had nightmares like the one she’d just found Sirius in the midst of. She couldn’t imagine being so cruel as to use the cruciatus curse on a child. She looked at Sirius as he sat there, tears streaming down his face, fresh out of the nightmare, and she couldn’t stand it. She sat herself on the edge of the bed and she held out her arms and wrapped Sirius into a hug. “Shhh,” she said into his hair as he clung onto her, crying all the harder. She swept her fingers softly through his long hair and felt him shaking in her arms, crying into her chest. It was quite obvious, the way he shook and clung on, that he’d been starved for affection. She rocked him slowly. “Hush now, it’s okay,” she whispered.

Sirius cried as she rocked and hummed softly until he’d fallen asleep in the arms of a borrowed mother.