𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 - 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

72 - 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙖 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠...𝙙𝙤𝙜?

He finally turned up at James' apartment.

It was like taking a breath of fresh air again, seeing his best friend standing there, complete and whole, if not a bit skinnier than he used to be. There was a slight scruff on his chin, and the way the back of his hand kept rubbing on it told Sirius that he didn't really like it.

James' face burst into a smile at the sight of the black dog, but he slightly hesitated when Sirius didn't immediately change back, like he used to. His full smile, now a bit strained at the corners.

Sirius sniffed his friend's shoes, his mind refusing to go in if James' clothes smelled like Lily.

Fortunately for both, they did not. In fact, even what Sirius could make out from the house, nothing smelt like Lily at all.

Which was a bit suspicious in its own right, but Sirius would have to turn back to get answers.

The moment the majestic black dog was replaced by the well-groomed menace known as Sirius Black, he was tackled into a hug by James. And for a minute, Sirius left all his concerns in the dust and hugged his best friend back, after meeting for the longest time they had been separated for since they were eleven. It really took only a month or two during the summer before both of them snuck out and met somewhere while they were in school.

"I'm sorry," James murmured into Sirius' shoulder, and Sirius heavily patted him on the back. Really, did anything else matter when James was here, with him, once again?

Aquila, a voice in his mind whispered, and it was like a bucket of water. He retreated back from the hug, and James clasped his arm with a grin that could compete with the sun, pulling him in the house. He assumed the town was named Godric's Hollow because it really was just that.

Hollow.

Lifeless.

"You'll never guess who lives next door. Old Bathilda Bagshot!" James said excitedly, going over to the kitchen to set a pot of tea. "I asked her if she could give me some gossip about Dumbledore considering she knew him, but she laughed me off as if I were kidding. I wasn't, not really, though," James rambled on, unnerved by Sirius' odd silence as he took in the house, and James nearly bursting at the seams to tell his best friend everything.

Sirius's mind, however, was on the details of the house. Not a home, no, because while he could see where James spent most of his time and what things were his, he could tell by the way the things were subtly spread across the room, that James didn't feel at home. Not yet, anyway. Being the neat freak James was, it was highly uncharacteristic of him to leave his stuff lying around. So what it really meant that even after nearly seven months of living together, James was trying to establish his space, but maybe it was not worth it, because Sirius spotted signs of things that definitely did not belong to James, like a pink handkerchief and the occasional hair clip (that could be James', but it was bright red in colour in the shape of a petunia). They definitely didn't belong to James, not unless he had some sort of epiphany.

Yes, surprise! Sirius wasn't dumb. He knew James. And he knew how to read a room. He knew how to spot the telltale signs of when someone had been in an argument, or when something was rearranged in a haste.

The same way he knew that this room barely saw the presence of two people, and try hard as he might, he couldn't hear any signs of Lily coming out to greet him.

"Where's Evans?" Sirius cut in to James' rant.

James looked at him abruptly. "Oh, she's sleeping," he said, taking out tea bags from a cupboard. Sirius noted with no small amount of joy that it was the same place where they used to keep their tea bags in their old apartment.