The first thing you need to know about this story, is that they all die in the end. But it’s what happens before that’s important. And besides, when is the end ever different than that?

***

“So, what’s going on in the world of Prongs?”
James smiled, and looked down, not answering.
“What?” asked Sirius, an echo of the smile on his face without knowing the reason. “What is it?”
James picked up his pint, and half drained it, before turning to meet Sirius’ gaze with feverishly bright eyes.
“Me and Lils… I asked her to marry me.” His words were half lost in laughter, the delirious laughter of those so happy, they half-believed themselves caught in a dream. Sirius stared, astounded, “Wha..? You didn’t…”
“Yea,” said James, grinning so wide his eyes were creasing at the corners, making him look like his dad. “Yea, I did. I really did it, Siri, and she said yes! She’s out there right now,” he swept his arm out, “wearing my ring, telling the world that she’s mine.” He sagged, and his voice went quiet, reverential. “Lily Evans is mine.”
“I… wow, James. Wow.” Sirius stared at him for a moment, the happiness that seemed to radiate off him, the pure joy. He smiled, it growing into a grin as he slapped him hard on the back. “Well hell, Jamesy! Congratulations!” He signalled to the barkeep, “Hey! Whiskey? Can we get two whiskeys over here?” He watched as the barkeep poured two glasses, and then waved his hand, “you know what? Hell, just leave the bottle.” He turned back to James, who had a soft smile around the edges of his mouth, the secret smile of lovers. “Congratulations, Jamesy. Lily Evans, huh? Man… I hope she knows what she’s getting herself into.”
James looked up, snorted, and punched him in the shoulder. “Yea, she knows that if she’s married to me, she’s stuck seeing your ugly mug for the next eighty years!”
Sirius gave the harsh dog-bark of laughter that made him seem like Padfoot, and picked up his glass, waiting for James to do the same. He knocked them together so hard that whisky sloshed over the sides, dripping down over their fingers, and grinned. “Cheers Jamesy. All the best to ya. I wish you and Lily a long and happy future.”
They knocked back the drinks at the exact same time, slamming them down on the counter together. It was barely a moment before Sirius was filling them back up.

***

Lily watched as Sirius lit up the Muggle cigarette, the tip flaring red as he inhaled, curls of smoke drifting up into the night sky.
“You know those’ll kill you right?”
He snorted a laugh, with only a cold, black heart of humour in it. “Yea? I can but hope.”  

***

“Hey, Sirius. What you doin’?”
“Working on tomorrows hangover.” He threw back a shot and turned, blinking blearily. “What can I do for you, Jamesy?”
“Padfoot, I gotta talk to you.”
Sirius reached up, placing a hand on his shoulder, and steered him onto the stool beside him. “Drink? You want a drink?”
“Listen a minute…”
“Beer? Fire whisky? Vodka?”
James frowned. “I’ve got to talk to you.”
He turned gesturing to the barkeep, “Hey, can we get a pitcher over here?”
“Sirius. Listen to me.” His attention was drifting, James could see it. He fisted his hands in Sirius’ scuffed-up leather jacket and shook him. “Listen to me!”
Sirius turned, his eyebrows raised, “Wah? What you doin’, Jamesy?”
“Look at you! You’re a mess, a walking disaster! You know, I talked to Moony and he said I should come talk to you. Lils said to let you work this out on your own, to give you your space. Wormtail… well…” He snorted, letting go of Sirius’ jacket, roughly brushing it down and breaking off as the tender clinked the large, frosted pitcher on the scared bar top in front of them.
“You even asked Wormtail about me?!”
“Yea,” James muttered, pouring himself a pint, “not that he was any help.” He hunched, affecting one of Wormtails nervous twitches and raised his voice a little higher. “‘Well, uh, I don’t know, Prongs. What do you think you should do? Perhaps going to see him is a good idea… but then he might, you know, want to be alone.’” James straightened, rolling his eyes. “Yea, Pete’s a real help.”
Sirius scoffed a laugh, knocking back the last of his drink and reaching a shaky hand to pour another. James brushed him away, poured it himself. “You’re gunna tip it all over the sodding table. Waste of good alcohol.” He paused, looking down. “Look, the thing is, you’ve gotta stop this. You’re… you’re self-imploding Siri. And I just, I can’t stand by and keep watching it, you know?”

***

“Sometimes the Muggle and magical worlds feel like centuries apart, you know? But it doesn’t matter – the time, the magic. It all comes down to people; love and hate… passion.” She glanced up at him, then quickly away. “Passion that can explode in to lust or in to fury.” She stole the cigarette, took a drag. “In the end, that’s all that matters.”