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Summary
Something tightens inside of Harry, something like want, even though he has everything he’s ever wanted for the first time in the whole of his life. “We shall not speak of that place a day more,” Sirius murmurs as he traces the shape of Harry's lips, fingers narrow, callous-rough, a skeleton with parchment-dry skin stretched tight over the frame. Harry bites his tongue so it does not leave his mouth. “From now on, this is home. You and me.”