When Remus returned from the store with diapers and formula and bottles and pacifiers, Sirius had found another bottle of alcohol, this one firewhiskey . "Pads, please stop. We have two daughters now, I don't want you drinking in front of Lyric, she'll pick up the example. And Petunia shouldn't have a drunk as a role model." He begged, setting down the bag of stuff and taking away the bottle, pouring it down the drain. He sighed. "You know James wouldn't want you to react like this." It was Sirius' turn to sigh. "I know. It's just all so fucked up. The next time i see the rat, I'm killing him." He sighed again. "I should have figured he'd rat them out. It's all my fault, moony." He bit back a sob. "It's my fault they're dead." "It's not your fault, pads, and you know that." Remus replied.