A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 60: A Bit of Warmth in the Cold

Sirius came up beside him, but didn't speak again. Just stood there, hands in his coat pockets, eyes squinting into the pale light.

"I didn't mean to dump it on her," James said finally. "It wasn't some grand plan. I wasn't trying to... do anything."

"I know."

James let out a bitter laugh. "Do you?"

Sirius's jaw tightened. "Look, I—alright, I've been protective. Over her. Maybe too much sometimes. I know that. But it's not because I don't trust you, it's because..."

He trailed off.

"Because what?"

"It's just..." Sirius added. "It's you. Every time it's about Anastasia, you... I don't know, James. You go weird, cagey. Either you shut down completely or you get all—" he waved a hand vaguely in the air, "—hyper-sensitive, like I've insulted your bloody religion."

James gave a small snort, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm not blind, mate," Sirius added, softer now. "You've been shifty about her since summer. Probably before that."

James's jaw tightened.

"It's like she's this thing you're trying to carry on your own, and I just—" Sirius shook his head. "I feel like I'm watching it happen from the sidelines. I don't get to help. I don't even get to understand."

Sirius glanced at him. "You don't tell me anything."

James slowed, then stopped, toeing the edge of the stone path. He didn't look up.

"It's not my place," he said quietly.

Sirius blinked. "Not your place? James, she's like a sister to me."

"I know," James said. "That's why it's complicated."

Sirius kept going, voice steady but raw around the edges. "I'm glad it's you. I mean that. I'm glad she can lean on you. But I feel... fucking useless. Like there's this version of Ana I never get to see. And I don't know how we got here."

James looked at him then. Sirius' eyes were darker than usual, shoulders tight under his coat. That strange mix of guilt and helplessness written across his face—so uncharacteristic it nearly stopped James in his tracks.

"I have all this..." Sirius started, then shook his head. "I don't know. Guilt. It's like I'm walking around with this weight I can't name. And every time I see her, I think, she's not supposed to look like this."

"Like what?"

Sirius hesitated. "Like she's trying to hold herself together with ice and charm and it's just... slipping."

"She was always stronger than me," Sirius continued, a little quieter now. "Even as a kid. She could handle things I couldn't. I used to resent her for it. Thought it made her cold. But I think—" he stopped. Frowned like the words were fighting him. "I think I admired her."

James swallowed hard.

Sirius met his gaze. "And now I don't know what the hell I'm looking at. She's fraying, James. You see it too. She's unraveling. And I don't know how to help her, and I don't know if she even wants help, and I—"

His voice cracked, just a little.

"I just feel like I missed it. Like I let her go through too much without being there. And now you're the one she trusts and that's—" He paused. "That's good. It is. There's no one I'd rather have looking out for her. You're—" He swallowed. "You're better than I am at this."

"I'm not," James said quickly.

"You are," Sirius shot back, tone sharp. "And that's fine. But it doesn't stop me feeling like I've failed her."

"This is a mess, isn't it?" Sirius added, almost laughing. "Like a proper mess."

James didn't answer. He was still watching Sirius, but it wasn't with pity. It was something closer to realisation. The kind that knocks the breath out of you.

"I've been acting like I'm the only one who cares," James said softly.

Sirius didn't respond.

"Didn't mean to. But I have."

Sirius looked away, scuffed his boot against the stone. "She's just... she's never let me care."

"Then maybe," James said, "you should talk to her."

Sirius let out a tired laugh. "Right. Because Anastasia's so in the mood for heart-to-hearts."

"I'm serious."

"How'd your last heart-to-heart with her go?"

James rolled his eyes. "Prick."

Sirius gave a half-hearted grin but didn't push the joke. He was still fidgeting with the ring on his right hand, spinning it around his finger. "She doesn't want to talk to me."

James hesitated, then glanced at him.

"There's this necklace," he said, slowly. "Silver. Worn chain. On her vanity."

Sirius turned his head. "Okay?"

"It's yours."

Sirius froze.

James kept going. "The one you lost in fifth year. It's got 'Not like them' carved into the back."

Sirius stared at him.

"I saw it yesterday on her nightstand," James said, a small, warm smile forming on his face. "She's the one who stole it. Didn't throw it away. Didn't lose it. She kept it. All this time."

Sirius didn't respond, but his expression said enough.

"She still cares, Pads. Way more than she lets on."

Sirius's throat worked around a lump he didn't quite know what to do with. He looked up, brow furrowed. "Why would she keep it?"

James smiled faintly. "I guess it reminded her she wasn't like them. And maybe because it reminded her of you."

James glanced away.

"I've been a shit friend lately."

"Yeah," Sirius said, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth now.

James elbowed him lightly. "I'm trying to say sorry."

"I know." Sirius paused. "You've had a lot on your plate."

"So have you."

Sirius snorted. "Well. Blacks are usually a handful."

They started walking again, boots kicking at frost-covered weeds.

Sirius bumped his shoulder into James. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

"No matter what happens. No matter how complicated this gets." Sirius said, eyes narrowing playfully. "I'll always be your favourite Black."

James smirked. "Good thing she's a Gaunt, then."

Sirius shoved him hard, sending James skidding on a patch of ice. "Wanker."

James laughed and took off at a jog down the slope.

"Oi!" Sirius shouted, tearing after him. "You little shit—get back here!"

The two of them took off across the frost-crusted lawn like idiots—robes flapping, boots skidding on wet leaves, laughter cutting through the cold. For a moment, it was like they were fifteen again, running from Filch or dodging a hex gone wrong.

No war. No expectations. No girl caught in the middle of a storm.

Just two boys.

Just a promise.

Just a bit of warmth in the cold.