The Boy Who Killed God {Sirius Black | Marauders Era Fanfiction}

The Executioner's Song

Remus deserved to have them on his side, loudly advocating for him even in Sirius's absence. He deserved the unwavering loyalty and devotion of the Marauders and their king.

Peter ducked his head a little, embarrassed. "I—I don't know what that means."

James sighed, exasperated. "It means you're a Marauder, and right now, three to one say Sirius fucked up."

"But if I side with Sirius, then it's two to two," Peter replied, his brow pinched, as though the math was just a bit too complicated. "So, he gets to help me study?"

"Fine," James groaned. "King's vote is the tie-breaker."

Again, a short, no-nonsense answer from Lily: "Sirius fucked up."

Peter made a small noise that sounded like a dying animal.

James patted him on the back. "Look, mate, I'm pretty sure Sirius isn't on Sirius's side anymore. He knows he fucked up."

And, Merlin, Sirius smiled for the first time in days. It was sad and broken at the undeniable truth in James's words, but it was a start.

"Then why don't we just forgive him?" Peter asked.

Lily set down her fork, straightened it, then pushed her plate away before planting both hands flat on the table. She glared at Peter, and Sirius could taste the flames from the other side of the Hall.

"Because Sirius fucked up," Lily said. "He didn't tell us his plans and he... He said things to Remus. Things that only Remus can forgive. So, he gets to wallow in his misery."

Wallow, indeed. A fate deserved.

"But," Peter began, uncertain. "Will Remus actually forgive him?"

Merlin. That was the question, wasn't it?

James and Lily exchanged a glance—in it, all of the fear and trepidation of abandonment that lurked in Sirius's heart.

Neither one of them offered an answer.

✦ - ☽ - ✧ - ☾ - ✦

JUNE 2, 1972

Remus didn't return until Tuesday morning.

Sirius watched from the other side of the room as an exhausted Remus stumbled through his Transfiguration practical. Sirius clocked the way Remus kept an arm wrapped around his middle at all times, the way Remus's hand gave the slightest tremble when he raised his wand. But, he'd also marked the determined set of Remus's jaw, and the ferocious glint in his eyes as he performed spell after spell at McGonagall's direction.

Amber. His eyes were back to amber.

Fuck. Sirius wished he knew what that meant.

His own practical went flawlessly, if he did say so himself. McGonagall certainly didn't, other than the perfunctory, "Full marks," she muttered once Sirius lowered his wand. She hadn't said much to him lately, but Sirius sensed her tracking his every move whenever he was in her sights.

There'd been a cat sitting on the mantle of the common room the night before, long after everyone else had gone to sleep. Sirius had stayed up in the hopes Remus might try to sneak in late at night, but of course, he hadn't.

Just the cat, watching him, with far too much pity in molten green eyes.

That morning, the framed copy of McGonagall's detention records had been mysteriously absent from its place of honour. It didn't matter, though, because Sirius had extra copies. He'd replaced it before breakfast.