"Through the Veil"
By: Shadowkat

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Disclaimer: I, obviously, don't own this franchise. If I did...well, there's a list. A bit too long to place here.

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'...he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as through in a high wind, then fell back in place.' - OotP

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He was floating, weightless, suspended in time as that one moment balanced between life and death stretched out into eternity. It felt like a dream, and as he arched high into the air, Harry was the only one he could see, his face wide in shock as his Godfather tumbled into the veil. Sirius had failed. He promised to protect him, and Sirius had failed...

'I'm so sorry, Harry...'

One last sad smile and Sirius was gone, never hearing the insane laughter of his cousin, nor the heart wrenching screaming from his best friend and godson, that instantly followed his departure.

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 First, it was only darkness, but then there was light.

Peace, when was the last time he felt so peaceful? Sirius couldn't quite remember. All he knew was that it had been a very, very long time. Yet, something about it was wrong.

Sirius' gray eyes shot open as memories crashed over him. The battle, Bellatrix, the Order, Harry. He remembered the struggle Department of Mysteries, the bright neon hexes shooting like a deadly lightshow through the air. He'd been hit by something, then he was falling, and then there was…nothing. No, he thought. There was something else, something he should know, but couldn't remember.

A sharp feeling of panic rose in his mind and he squeezed his eyes closed, mentally commanding himself to remain calm. It was just like waking up from another nightmare, he couldn't panic. All he had to do was remember to stay in control.

Sirius took a shaky breath. A minute passed, then two as he felt himself relax. He reopened his eyes, quickly taking stock of his surroundings.

He was in a bed, its white sheets soft beneath his shaking fingers, and with the polite coldness of a stranger, as if no one else had ever slept in it before. The small room around him was simple in style, with soft cream colored walls and a solitary window, placed within arm’s length above him that allowed sunlight to stream through and make a bright patch on the polished wooden floor. He frowned. Too small to break through. The only other possible exit was a wooden door on the opposite side of the room.

There was hardly any decoration with the exception of the bed he sat in, a rickety chair over beside the door, and a full body mirror over in the corner. Nothing to use as a weapon, nothing to bust out with, and, when he checked his robe pockets, Sirius found what he already suspected. He was wandless.

'Think, Padfoot, you have to find out what happened, what's going on, and then you can get out. Then you can find a way back. Bloody hell, Remus is probably losing his mind by now...'

Sirius pushed himself off the bed, shivering slightly as his bare feet came in contact with the ground, and cautiously made his way over to the door. As soon as he reached for the knob, he quickly recoiled, feeling the icy burn before his skin ever connected. It had to be charmed...

Next, he tried standing on the bed and peeking out the window, but the light was too bright and Sirius instantly sat back down, abandoning the idea for the moment. Later on he might be able to get a hint of where he was, but now, with the glare in his eyes, he was more likely to go blind.

Then, as if some force pulled it there, his gaze drifted to the mirror. From the angle he was at, all he saw was the opposite side of the room reflected inside it, but something about it still tugged at him. On a sudden impulse, Sirius pushed himself back off the bed and curiously walked to the reflective sheet of glass…then he froze.

Sirius' mouth dropped open in shock. It was him, but at the same time it wasn't. He reached out a hand and let it rest against mirror's cool surface, his reflection matching his movement so that their fingertips were touching. All the pain, all the fear, and all anger seemed gone from his features. It was like Sirius imagined his face would have appeared had he never been to Azkaban, had never gone through the dark hell that had been his life for all those years. He looked younger, the lines that once marked his skin gone….he looked alive again.

The wizard shivered, noticing the one thing that hadn't changed at all. Although the physical scars were gone, the thirty-six years of life he'd endured still shone clearly in the weathered irises that were his eyes. Was that image really him, or was it some kind of magic? Yet, as he brought his hand from the mirror to his face, he knew that it was real.

"What's happened to me?" The wizard put a hand out to steady himself against the wall as the ground began to swim underneath his feet. "What the bloody hell did I fall into?"

It was only a whisper, but the question filled the room like a scream.

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It could have been minutes, hours, days, even weeks, but with no way to tell time, it all simply blended together. For some reason, he never felt tired or hungry. No matter how long he watched the bright patch of light flooding the floor, no matter how long he waited for the time he could finally look out and see where, or what, he'd found himself tumbling into, it stayed the same.

In that all time spent as he sat on the bed, or stood in front of the mirror, or trying in vain to open the room's locked door without receiving a burn on his hands, he finally had found what had unnerved him before.

His heart wasn't beating.

Yet, he was still breathing, still thinking, still feeling. Every second he spent in the strange room brought more questions than answers. Just when he thought he'd survived Azkaban just to go insane in that room, he came.

Sirius sat on the bed, his head cradled in his hands and mind lost in past memories, when the door slowly eased open.

"Padfoot?" Sirius' eyes shot open and his head slowly rose, his mind not comprehending what his eyes told him to be true. The figure sent him a cocky grin. "Well, aren't you going to say hello to your best mate?"

"James?" His eyes widened at the familiar face, the impish tone of voice, the mischievous gleam of hazel eyes. Then, just as quickly, the astonishment gave way to anger. It was a trick, a sick trick! James was dead. How dare whoever locked him in that room taunt him like that!

There was no calm now. Sirius' fists balled at his sides and he rose, charging towards the other man and ramming him against the wall so hard he heard his back crack. His face was twisted in anger. "How dare you...first you lock me in here and now you play some dress up game?James is dead...I swear if you don't tell me what's going on I'll kill you!"

Their faces were inches apart, and compared to Sirius, the other’s was eerily calm. "You're right about one thing. I am dead."

"Stop talking in riddles!" Sirius snarled and pressed harder, his anger almost overcoming any rational thought process left. The other man didn't so much as wince at the increased pressure against his chest, a pressure that should have cracked ribs. When he answered, his voice was calm.

"Sirius, I'm not. You died."

It hit him like a blow, and Sirius slowly removed his shaking hands from his friend, for once it all clicked into place he was sure it was indeed James. Staggering backwards he leaned against the wall for support, a mix shock, horror, confusion, and then unwanted understanding flashing across his face. Slowly, he dropped to the floor. Numbness was taking over now, the anger and shock leaving him empty.

There were so many things he’d never said, and too many things undone. Peter was still out there somewhere, Harry and Remus were alone, and people still thought he was a murderer...he didn’t even say goodbye.

"I'm not dead...I can't be dead." He shook his head in disbelief. Yet, it was the only thing that made sense, the only explanation to what was happening, but damn if he still wasn't searching for a way to deny it. Sirius realized he was shaking again.

'I didn't go through twelve years of hell just to come back and die...'

Despite his efforts, it was as if a dam opened, and he couldn’t stop the liquid that streamed from his eyes. James slowly sat down next to him, and let him cry. God, Sirius hated people seeing him cry. 

He swiped at the salty tears tracing down face. With red eyes, he looked closer at his friend. He was the same, except one thing. "You don't have your glasses..."

James just gave a small smile, as if this was a perfectly normal question to ask after being told you’re dead. "Well, you don't really need them here…or wands either, for that matter. That's something I definitely miss. The wand part, not so much the glasses."

Despite himself, and still utterly aware of his puffy eyes, Sirius felt a small smile tug at his lips. It was a little, pathetic smile, but it was there. Even though he couldn't see how, in his present situation.

Suddenly feeling awkward, he tried to think of something else to ask.

"So, where's Lily?" It was a weak opener, but James pretended not to notice. which Sirius was grateful for.

"Waiting back home, keeping your brother company." Sirius started, his gray eyes widening.

"Regulus? He’s here?" His brother’s face rose in his mind, and a longing Sirius had denied for years came up with it. He remembered his brother, before they'd drifted apart, and the nights Regulus would run into his room crying during a thunderstorm when he was little. He also remembered the night he lost him, lost him to them, to the Death Eaters.

James nodded, smiling sadly.

"I forgot you didn't know how he died. You should be proud, sounded just like something you'd do." Sirius tensed as James sat a firm hand on his shoulder."I know it's a lot to take in. Trust me, I tried breaking my dad's neck when he showed up. I'm sorry."

"A lot to take in? Excuse me for saying this, but that feels like a bit of an understatement." He shook his head and let out a dry laugh, clasping his hands together in a effort to stop shaking. "James, I don't want to die yet. I'm not afraid of it, but..." He trailed off, mentally cursing himself for how small his voice sounded.

But what? This wasn't how he wanted to go out? It was too soon? He didn't want to be beat by a curtain?

James’ eyes seemed to gain a faraway look, and for the first time Sirius realized how young he really looked…he was still hardly more than a kid. Yet, he didn’t act like one. He acted older now, changed. Maybe, Sirius thought, that was what happened after you die. You change, just like his own reflection did.

"Death has a way of coming at the worst time, doesn't it? One minute you're there, and then the next you're gone." A hint of sadness had crept into James' voice, and underneath, a touch of bitterness The couple were never able to watch their son grow up, never had a chance for so many things. Even being in Azkaban for twelve years, at least he'd had a short time with Harry. They'd all been cheated in this.

"Prongs-"James just sighed and shook his head sadly.

"I suppose you’ve realized by now that I'm not just here to catch up. This," He gestured around at the space. "It's only a waiting room, before you go any farther there's a choice you have to make."

Sirius grinned bitterly and tensed. He already knew.

" I could go back, but then I'd have to stay there. That's it, right? Moving on or becoming a ghost?"

He felt James squeeze his shoulder and forced himself not to draw back from it.

"If you stay here you'll see them again," he said, and Sirius could tell by his hesitant tone that James was afraid. Sirius had always been the most impulsive of the Marauders, always the one to act in the moment…and going back, it was tempting.

"I know."

His hands clenched in his lap, knuckles turning white, and stared down at them as if the answer had been sketched into his skin. Sirius glanced up at his friend, looked into the eyes that had always managed to see right through him. The choice shouldn't be so hard, but the reckless part of him wouldn't let go of the thought of life, of Remus, of Harry. He felt as if two sides of himself were at war, threatening to rip him apart.

Then, he thought about just how long he'd waited for this, to see James and Lily again. He thought of what he heard from the ghosts at Hogwarts when he was younger, and he knew there wasn’t a choice, not really. He couldn't end up alone again. Half-life was worse than none at all, and he couldn't stand any more regrets. He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them his decision was made.

'I'm sorry, Harry...'

"I'll stay." As soon as the words left his mouth he knew it was the right choice, even if his godson ended up hating him for it. Harry wasn’t alone, he had others to look after him now. Remus was there, and Molly. So were Ron and Hermione, both good kids, and even better friends.That he had no doubt of, and one day Sirius only hoped his Godson would understand.

James grinned, rising and holding out his hand to help his best friend to his feet. Sirius took it and, before he knew what happened, was pulled into his James' arms. Again, he wondered at the strangeness of it all, of feeling the warmth around him when his physical body should be cold. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All he cared about was that all the pain was finally over.

He didn’t have to hurt anymore, or put a charm around his room so no one would hear him wake up screaming from nightmares. He didn’t have to fear going outside, of being sent back to Azkaban. He could finally just rest, and it had been far too long since the last time that was possible.

"Sirius, I've missed you. You have no idea how much I wish I'd been there." They broke apart, tears shining in both sets of eyes. For once, Sirius didn't feel ashamed of them, and he let out a laugh, a real one this time.

"James Potter, you wouldn't believe the amount of trouble your son has gotten into." James' hazel eyes gleamed, and Sirius knew he made the right call. But his chest tightened as he thought of all was left, and of all Harry still had to face.

"I guess he's my son after all,� James replied, letting off a lopsided smile. “Are you ready?" Sirius nodded, swiping at his eyes.

"Actually...I think I am."

In the end it's the smallest of things that you remember most, as if everything else simply ceases to exist. Our lives are made in the smallest of hours and the tiniest of wonders. You never see it at the time, but you remember them. You remember how it feels to laugh and to smile, the cold wind blowing across your face and ripping at your clothing, the summer rain hitting your skin in warm splashes, and the sun warming your body on a cloudless spring day. It's as if time falls away, and you're left standing frozen in those moments, those memories.

Sirius was robbed of so many of his memories, of the chance to make more, but he held tight to the ones he had. He remembered holding a tiny baby Harry in his arms as the Marauders crowded a hospital room the day he'd been born. He remembered the after-hour outings with his friends. He remembered all of it, all the things he hadn't been able to think of for twelve long years, all the moments he took for granted, everything in life that had so suddenly been ripped from his grasp.

It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It's called living. You can't go back, but that doesn't mean, even after death, there's no more moving forward. One day, they'd all join him again, but until then he'd wait.

Grinning, the two reunited friends opened the door and, together, stepped side by side into the next great adventure. "Just wait till you hear about the twins. The Marauders will definitely need to expand."

"Sounds like it. Too bad I didn't contribute to all the mischief...just think how big a mess that would have made!" Sirius laughed as white light encased him.

In the meantime, there was a lot of catching up to do...

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