Chapter Text
Watching a parent grow old in front of your eyes is bittersweet. It can be delightful seeing the first grey hairs sprout and seeing how closely your parents actually resemble your grandparents. It can be frustrating having to constantly reassure them that the wrinkles are barely even visible. No one’s going to notice, mum. You look beautiful.
The slow realisation that the person whose eyes you're looking into is no longer the person that kisses it better when you scrape your knee or the person that carries you to the breakfast table when you’re still too sleepy. And suddenly they can’t run anymore. And they need a chairlift to brave the stairs. And even a trip to the same bakery they frequented for the last sixty years is too hard on the knees.
An impending sense of loss hovering over one’s head like a dark cloud, that is just waiting to dump all the rainwater on your head. Rivulets of tears streaming down your face, dropping down your chin and seeping into the fabric of the hospital bedsheets.
Well, Sirius Black would have a blast watching his biological mother get ugly and wither away right in front of his eyes. Walburga Black six feet under? A cause for celebration.
However, what if it’s Euphemia Potter who’s hardly leaving the house, not chastising Sirius for wearing his boots inside anymore and having to tell James, that bleeding man-child, that she’s too weak to clean his glasses for him? That’s an entirely different story. That causes immeasurable fear in Sirius. Regret for not having spent the entirety of his life at the Potter’s home. Worry about how on earth he’s going to manage any of this without Effie. Shame for making this all about him when James is sitting right next to him, head in his hands, sobbing over the doctor’s visit he just accompanied his mum to.
“It’s not looking too good,” James mumbles through the sobs making his limbs shake. “The doctor said she’d be lucky if she even made it to Halloween. No point in putting up decoration.”
“Well, what does the doctor know? I say she’s pulling through. Don’t need a fancy degree to make these vague assumptions about her life,” Sirius scoffs.
James looks up from his hands, still bent over, looking like a kicked puppy. “Pads, be serious for once – don’t you dare say it. Face it, we’re losing her. I don’t even think she herself wants to go on like this much longer.”
Another sob wracks his body. The unruly mop of black hair on his head shakes with every tremble of his body and the round, wired glasses he pushed up onto his forehead threaten to slip off.
Sirius’ hand is slowly cramping up drawing circles into James’ back.
“So, what do we do? Quit our jobs?”
“Wha- What are you talking about?” Now James looks like a confused, kicked puppy.
Sirius shrugs. “Someone’s gotta always be around at the house. If not for helping her, then for keeping her company. Guess we need to make the most of our time with her.”
“Fuck me, mate. This is getting way too real.” James frantically pushes his hand through his already messy and tangled up hair. Sirius thinks it almost looks intentional. How he always has his curls in a messy state, yet still somehow pulls it off in an artful kind of way. “But no,” he drops his hand. “We can’t let this turn our entire lives upside down. We’d go crazy. And you know I can’t just quit. I have Lils and Harry to support. And the kids won’t learn how to play footie all by themselves.” Damn James Fleamont Potter and his selfless heart.
Sirius has always admired James for his selflessness. No matter what it cost him, he would always stand up for others. He would probably let the entire world burn for a stranger if only they had a good pitch to prove how down on their luck they were. James is in a position where he could easily take some time off work. Put himself first for once. But Sirius should have known that would never be an option for James. Not if he has a wife, a son and twenty little buggers dribbling a ball up and down a patch of grass to look out for. Selfless bastard. Sirius loves him.
“You know, the doctor keeps recommending hiring a caretaker for Mum.”
Sirius hates him.
“James, we’ve been over this. I don’t want some stranger fussing over her. She’s in a vulnerable state. Do you really want some random person at home with her when we’re not there to supervise?”
Sirius hates him and he’s also crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.
“I think there’s a difference between letting a stranger into our home and having a trained professional stay with her a couple of hours a day, so she doesn’t kill herself trying to brew a cup of tea or -god forbid- walk down the stairs. Because you know she will.”
Oh, yeah. Sirius remembers. The great fall of 2016. Where Effie tripped and fell down the stairs, spraining her ankle and dislocating her shoulder. Just back then she had Monty to nurse her back to health. Fleamont Potter’s death just a few years ago was a shock to everyone around them. A heart attack crept up on him regardless of how many veggies and yoga retreats Effie would force down his throat.
Sirius barely showed himself outside of his flat or the mechanical shop he works at. James on the other hand, was surprisingly mature about it. Sirius suspects losing his dad may only catch up to him now that his mum's also in a critical state. Which makes for a horrible outlook on the future in Sirius' eyes. Because where James was his rock when Monty died, James falls apart in Sirius’ arms just thinking about how small his mother looks sitting in her rocking chair all day.
But she’s sitting in that rocking chair. And she’s reading books or watching Downton Abbey and Love Island on nights that she’s feeling especially mischievous (it makes for a great topic of conversation with Sirius). And Sirius will be damned if Euphemia Potter can’t do all of that on her own. He’s seen her use the TV remote. He knows she can manage just fine on her own. There’s no need for some tosser with an education to come in here and switch the channel for her. So, Sirius uses his veto.
“I’m using my veto.”
“You don’t get a veto,” James dismisses him.
“Of course I do. That’s my mum too. I refuse to let a stranger dote on her. That’s my job”
James sighs. “Siri… Okay, alright. I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this. Let’s sleep over this once more and mull it over again in a few days. Alright?”
“Alright. Guess I’m heading out then. I’ll say bye to Mum and then I’m out. Talk to you later?”
James pushes out of his chair and extends his arms for Sirius to fit right in between them. This is where he found a first sliver of what would soon become his real home when he was just 11 years old. James' arms became his safe space after every tiny conversation he had with his parents back when they were still in school. James' shoulder would drip in salty tears (and snot) whenever Sirius felt stuck in a labyrinth with no way out. James became his forever home at 16 when Sirius decided his parents weren't worth the suffering anymore. James' doors were wide open when he came running in the middle of the night pleading the Potters to let him stay just until he figured something out. He never even moved his things out of the guest room.
“Yea, Pads. Let’s not bicker over all this. We’ll talk later. Think I might let Lily know I’ll crash here.”
One last tight-lipped smile and pat on James’ back and Sirius slips into the Potter’s living room. The TV is on mute, while Effie is leaning back in her rocking chair flicking through what seems to be the latest Cosmopolitan issue – Sirius would know.
“Daniel Craig, huh? Didn’t take him to be your type, but whatever floats your boat.”
Effie flips the magazine over to peek at the cover. “No, I’ve always been more of a Richard Gere girl myself.”
“Ah, yeah. Runaway bride,” Sirius muses.
“I’ll do you one better: Pretty Woman!” Effie counters.
“Ouh, you got me there. I’d get into his fancy car any night,” Sirius jokes as Effie whacks him with her magazine.
Sirius giggles and bends down to eye-level with his mother.
“Sorry for the short visit, came in to say goodbye properly though.”
Euphemias lips form into a genuine and loving smile. “Darling, no need to apologise. I’m grateful for any minute you still spend with my old arse. But you’re right, it's gotten pretty late. I should probably head to bed myself. Long day.”
“Want me to take you to your room?”
“Nonsense. I can manage those few steps on my own.”
Exactly what Sirius keeps telling James. Better listen to what his mum says.
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? I’ll come by after my shift. Think I should be out by three,” Sirius says and leans forward to give Effie a kiss on the cheek.
“Hm, can’t wait, darling,” she replies in her soothing voice.
The tone of her voice is ringing in Sirius’ ears as he’s stepping outside of the front door and onto the gravel path outside the Potter’s house. He’s never known a voice so calming. You hear her speak and you can just tell from her tone that she’s a mother, and a tremendously good one at that.
He drowns the echo of her voice out with the revving of his motorbike as he starts the ignition of his black Harley and leaves his anxiety behind in a dark cloud of driveway-dust. No care about the growling of his engine waking up any of the neighbours. Rushing past the red brick cottages so common for their district of Godric's Hollow. The never-ending thought of his mother's decline is reverberating through his brain draining all its power to muffle and entirely silence them. Effie's health is a concern for another day or preferably never. Something he well and truly does not want to worry about right now. After all, Euphemia is fine.