Work Text:
It's Fine.
(It's not)
.
Harry sighed loudly and used his spare hand to wipe away the sweat on his forehead, only realising belatedly how dirty his fingers were and that he'd probably just spread the grime; Aunt Petunia would be disgusted. That or she'd be impressed with the insane amount of cleaning he'd been forced to do over the past few weeks, who knew.
Mrs Weasley had sent him, Ron and the twins into the library on the first floor of Grimmauld Place with clear instructions to clean but not touch, instructions Fred and George had almost instantly ignored. And so, despite their protestations of innocence when the man had stuck his head around the door to check up on them, somehow they had ended up with Professor Lupin, looking more exhausted than ever (full moon was in three days, Harry had checked), sat in one of the armchairs in the corner, poring over a pile of papers and pretending not to be keeping an eye on them. Harry had tried to sneak a peek the papers, to get some idea of what was going on, but the man had them well shielded, and, when noticing Harry's curiosity, had directed him towards the curtains. Which was how Harry found himself balancing on a chair and holding a feather duster. He stifled a yawn, not fully paying attention as he turned to attempt to dust along the other side of the curtain rail, already knowing, based on the other side, that it would be hopeless, the grime was well set in.
He had a split second as his foot slipped on the edge of the chair where his stomach lurched and he tried to regain his balance, but it was too late and he fell sideways, reaching out to try and cushion his fall. He landed on his outstretched hand which gave a sickening crack and Harry cried out as pain shot through it.
"Harry!" Ron rushed over as he sat up, grunting as he moved his arm. His wrist didn't look any different but the pain radiating from it was agonizing and reminding him of that time he'd come off his broom in second year, and of… of Vernon, of last summer. He rose to his feet, feeling suddenly crowded as everyone gathered around him.
“You broken it?” George asked unhelpfully as Harry yelped again at the worsening pain that moving to stand had caused; he felt suddenly dizzy and took a deep breath against it, staring hopelessly down at his wrist.
"Let me."
Lupin stepped forward, his own hand outstretched and images of the previous summer, of his Uncle grabbing his arm, twisting it until he was screaming and begging for him to stop, suddenly filled Harry’s head and he flinched backwards, away from Vernon and the pain and the fear.
"No, don't!" the words tumbled out before he could stop them but as soon as they were spoken he knew that they were wrong, that it was all wrong. It wasn't Vernon stood before him but Lupin who now looked horrified and took several steps back, his hands spread open before him and his wand dangling between his fingers, pointing at the floor. Harry wanted to take it back, take it all back and take that look of hurt away from the man stood there, but he had no idea how or what to say or, or…
Then suddenly Ron was in front of him, shielding him from the others, "Harry mate." He said, the concern in his eyes at odds with his jovial tone of voice, "I'm sure Lupin knows what he's doing more than Lockhart did." and Harry frowned, couldn't quite understand what Ron was talking about until he heard one of the twins, George maybe, explaining to Lupin about Lockhart and the removal of the bones in Harry's arm, and he realised that Ron was giving him an excuse, an out, and he felt a sudden wave of gratitude.
He swallowed, knew he should talk, say something, anything, but he just couldn't seem to manage it, and instead found himself staring at his friend who was giving him an awkward, almost coaxing smile, and he swallowed again, almost compulsively, before sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth and breathing in deeply through his nose, "I…" He paused, eyes flickering away from Ron and down to the floor, honestly not knowing what to say next.
"Look we'll give you some breathing space okay." Lupin said finally, his voice quiet and gentle in a way that made Harry want to scream.
He managed a sharp nod, eyes still staring at his feet, and listened as Lupin and the twins left the room.
Ron stayed.
Harry didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed.
"D'ya want me to get Hermione?" Ron said after a minute and Harry's head shot up.
"What? No. Why?"
Ron shuffled awkwardly, "She's better at this stuff." He shrugged and Harry felt his jaw clench.
"I'm not going to start yelling!" He snapped, suddenly finding that he wanted to do just that and having to force himself to take a deep breath instead; the throbbing in his wrist overshadowed anything and he sucked in another sharp breath as he accidentally jolted it, a whimper of pain escaping before he could stop it.
"Harry…" Ron said quietly and when Harry looked at his friend the boy's eyes were darting around the room awkwardly, "Your Uncle…" So he had figured it out, of course he had, Ron knew him better than anyone, probably better than he knew himself.
"Doesn't matter." Harry said quickly, the harshness of his tone making even himself wince, "I'm here now, don't have to go back there for ages."
"Yeah but -"
"It's fine, Ron." Ron nodded but he looked unconvinced and Harry let out a huff of air, trying to think of something else to say before his friend pushed any further. "The twins are going to think I'm a right twat." He groaned finally, feeling his cheeks heat up as he spoke, just thinking about how stupid he must have looked.
"Oh please, they love you, could probably piss yourself in front of them and they'd just wave it off as a Harry thing… if it was me…" Ron rolled his eyes dramatically, a hint of bitterness sneaking in and Harry winced, knowing his friend was right, more so since he had handed over the triwizard fortune as well.
"Well, I'll try to avoid doing that just in case." He said and Ron laughed, but the concerned frown between his eyes remained and Harry huffed out a breath, "Still, at least I got us out of cleaning."
Ron laughed again, relaxing slightly, "True, even mum can't argue with a broken arm… d'ya think it is broken?"
Harry flexed his wrist again and grimaced out a grunt at the sharp worsening of the pain, "I'd say so. Feels like before… with Lockhart." He added, in case Ron got any ideas.
Ron nodded, not even bothering to look convinced, "Right yeah, Lockhart. How do muggles fix them?" He asked.
Harry shrugged, glad the conversation was moving on, "They put a cast on it, to keep the bones in one place so they fix themselves." Vernon hadn't taken him to the hospital, of course, so he'd just strapped his arm up as best he could and kept it as still as possible, then after the whole thing at the World Cup he'd lied to Bill and said he'd tripped and thought he'd sprained it, and Bill had got Charlie to cast some charm to check for injuries, they hadn't found any but he'd cast a quick healing charm just in case, which had removed the residual ache Harry had been feeling for most of the summer.
"Fix themselves?" Ron repeated, with a wonder worthy of his father.
"Takes weeks." Harry told him, huffing out another breath in an attempt to distract himself from the pain.
They both looked over as the door opened again and Fred walked back in, "Y'alright?" He asked and Harry nodded sharply, avoiding the boy's eyes, "Lupin said he'd be in Sirius' room if you wanted him to heal it, otherwise he said to ask mum but… trust me, bad idea." Fred grimaced.
"He's right, she tried to heal a cut on my head once and I somehow ended up in St Mungo's with an added concussion." Ron agreed and Harry laughed, somehow not able to imagine Mrs Weasley being so awful at healing charms.
"And mum says dinner'll be ready in like fifteen minutes." Fred added, "Me and George are gonna play gobstones if you wanna join, when your arm's fixed."
"Is that an open invitation?" Ron asked.
"Yeah." The smirk in Fred's voice gave him away before he'd even added the "For Harry anyway," and Harry laughed, feeling a flicker of guilt as Ron huffed angrily.
"Don't be a dick." Harry told Fred belatedly, and the boy laughed.
"Just joking. Always enjoy beating you at gobbers, Ronniekins."
Ron rolled his eyes at that, “Almost makes up for all the times I beat you at chess.” He said and Harry grinned, glad he was sticking up for himself.
“Whatever.” Fred said with a grin of his own, “Later losers.” Then he left the room and they listened as he stomped his way back down the stairs and Mrs Weasley yelled at him to walk quieter,
"Almost feels like home." Ron murmured and Harry snorted, wishing they really were back at the Burrow.
He and Ron left the library and Harry took another deep breath, hoping it would ease the throbbing in his wrist that moving caused, it didn't. "Should go upstairs." He said after a moment, hesitating on the lower step, trying to find the will to push himself to climb them.
"Want company?" Ron offered so casually that for a second Harry almost said yes, before he realised how ridiculous it was to need his best mate to hold his hand just to go and talk to Lupin.
"Nah, it's okay." He said, trying to match the casualness in his friend's tone as he finally took the first step.
Ron clapped him on the shoulder, "Alright mate, see you in a bit yeah?"
"Yeah." Ron ambled back down the stairs, making almost as much noise as Fred had, before pausing on the bottom step and glancing back at Harry who remained frozen in place, he caught his friends eye and quickly forced himself to start up the stairs as Ron opened his mouth, probably to offer to come with him again.
Harry instinctively slowed his steps as he approached the curve at the top of the stairs and left Ron’s line of sight. He had never actually been up to the top floor before and glanced around, finding three doors, one of which was open slightly with light and quiet voices spilling out onto the landing, Sirius’ room he assumed, the second door was also open and, from what he could see through the darkness, was clearly a bathroom. The third was firmly closed with a small sign on it and Harry stepped closer to read it, grimacing as the top step creaked, Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black, Sirius’ brother, Harry realized and, not for the first time, wondered how weird it must be for Sirius to be back here, especially if his family were as awful as he had told Harry the other day. He glanced back towards Sirius’ room where he could still hear Lupin and his godfather talking, too quietly for him to hear the words, and he hesitated again, not wanting to disturb them, but the pain in his wrist was getting worse and so, after a second, he knocked with his spare hand, grimacing an attempt at a smile as the voices stopped and the door was quickly pulled open by Lupin,
"Harry" he said, far more warmly than Harry deserved, "How's your arm?"
Harry gave a small shrug, glancing past the man towards his godfather who was sitting on the edge of the large bed, watching him with concern, "Hurts." He admitted quietly, "Sorry for… I know you're not Lockheart."
"Thank Godric he isn't." Sirius muttered and Lupin snorted, stepping away from the doorway,
"Come in, come in. Let's see if we can't heal it hey, I promise not to vanish any bones." He said.
Harry managed a weak smile of response before stepping into the room and closing the door behind himself, watching as Lupin moved over to a bedside table and rummaged around for a moment, reemerging with a small vial of potion and holding it out to Harry, "Drink this, it's a pain relief." Harry took the vial and drank it quickly, "We'll just give that a minute." Lupin said, “Then we’ll see what we’re dealing with.”
“Come sit down.” Sirius said, patting the bed beside him and Harry awkwardly did as he was told, looking around Sirius’ room and frowning at the posters of barely dressed girls on the wall. Sirius, following his gaze, muttered something about redecorating and Lupin laughed but Harry barely heard them, his eyes fixing on a small photograph beside the bed - his father, aged about the same as he was now, stood arm in arm with Sirius, and Lupin and Pettigrew, wearing school uniform and grinning at him. He looked so much younger than he had the last time Harry had seen him, back in the graveyard, and he swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from the image. "Ah, yes… fifth year. We were your age." Sirius said quietly, his eyes following Harry's, "You can have it, if I can figure out how to counteract the sticking charm. Seem to be a family speciality I'm afraid."
Harry nodded absently, still staring at the photograph as he was hit with the sudden realisation that it had only been five or six years after this was taken that his father had been murdered by Voldemort. The thought made him feel suddenly sick and he turned away from the photo quickly, jolting his wrist as he did so; He let out a soft hiss at the sensation and whatever stillness had been in the room shifted as both men turned to look at his arm, “How’s that pain relief doing?” Sirius asked.
“Good.” Harry said quietly as Lupin moved to stand before him, casting some charm that had an xray hovering in the air above Harry’s arm, with a red glow around what he assumed was the fracture.
"Says it's a clean break which is good, no need for any of that skele-gro.” Lupin smiled at him and Harry blinked, having not actually realised that that was a genuine possibility. He wondered what this spell was that could tell if it was a clean break or not, and if he could learn it... just in case. “It’s a quick spell okay, it's going to hurt more when I cast it but it shouldn't last more than a minute or so, and that pain relief will help with any residual aches." Lupin said
"'kay" Harry whispered, taking a deep breath and holding his hand out, wincing as the movement jolted it again..
The pain as the bone knotted back together was even sharper than when he had first broken it, but nowhere near as bad as the cruciatus, or even Wormtail's knife really, and he gritted his teeth against it, not wanting to cry out in front of the two men, needing them to see that he was as brave as his father.
"Okay?" Sirius asked, sounding almost as concerned as he had done back in the hospital wing after the tournament which only made Harry feel guilty for worrying him.
"Yeah." He managed to say, shaking his wrist a little as the pain finally started to abate, "Thanks." He told Lupin.
The man gave a nod and smiled again, "No problem."
They were all quiet for a moment, watching as Harry continued to flex his wrist, each movement causing less and less pain. The atmosphere in the room felt tense and Harry hated it and desperately wanted to escape, but he also felt bad about leaving when the two men had been so nice to him, and especially since this was the first time he’d really spent any time with Sirius since coming to the house. He looked up and saw them exchanging a look that he couldn’t quite place but knew was no good and decided that gobstones sounded like a great idea and he’d just have to catch up with Sirius another time. He wrinkled his nose before giving a sniff and puffing out his lips, “Well I should get back down -”
"Harry." Sirius' voice sounded different to usual, more careful, considered, and his stomach sank, knowing exactly what was coming. "Was it really Lockhart you were thinking about?" He asked quietly and Harry swallowed, glancing sideways to find a concerned, and almost knowing, look on his godfather's face.
"What? Yeah he… he vanished my bones. Totally vanished."
"Remus said that you seemed worried he was going to hurt you." Sirius said slowly.
The man in question at least had the grace to look vaguely guilty when Harry shot him a wounded look. "Skele gro was horrible! Worst thing ever." He said quickly, his cheeks heating up, "I just didn't want skele grow again." He added petulantly, knowing from Sirius' expression that he didn't believe him anymore than Ron had.
"Harry." His godfather said again, "If your Aunt and Uncle are -"
"They're not!" Harry insisted, not letting him finish the sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud.
"If they're hurting you." Sirius continued, as though he hadn't been interrupted, "It's not right Harry, they can't be allowed to do that."
"They're not." Harry repeated, hating how weak his voice sounded, "Everything's fine." The last thing he needed was for Sirius to go rushing off to Privet drive and get himself arrested.
He flinched as he heard Mrs Weasley call his name but then realised that at least if she burst in and interrupted them he wouldn't have to answer these questions. Lupin clearly had the same thought because before Harry could call out a reply the man had slipped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind himself and, within a few seconds, the yelling had stopped.
"Harry." Sirius said again and Harry grunted.
He felt a sudden burst of irritation at the man for refusing to let it go and rose from the bed, pacing towards the window, just wanting to get away from his godfather, "It's fine!"
"It is not fine!" Sirius said sharply, making Harry flinch, "If they're hurting you then it is not fine!"
“They’re not.” Harry lied again, staring out of the window at the greying sky, refusing to turn and look at Sirius as he heard him walk towards him.
"I'm not a complete idiot Harry." Sirius' voice was quiet now, coming from just behind him with a forced gentleness that made Harry's jaw clench, "I know when you're lying to me." He started at that, wondering how exactly. Did he have a tell? Was it the same as his father's? "They can't be allowed to treat you like that, I won't let them." Sirius said and Harry let out a desperate huff of air, turning around and finding the man stood there with such a determined look on his face that he just knew that this was it. That Sirius would go and find Vernon and Petunia and talk to them, or even hurt them, and he’d get himself caught and then he’d end up back in Azkaban or worse with his soul sucked out, and Harry would be all alone again with no one to talk to but Ron and Hermione, and he could feel his throat trying to close at the thought, his heart pounding so hard in his chest it almost hurt and as he wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers he felt a sudden fury at the man for being so pig headed.
"Look, it doesn't matter, okay. The Dursleys don't matter! All that matters is Voldemort, and stopping him which I can't do when no one tells me anything!" He hadn't realised that he'd started yelling until he had stopped and was suddenly faced with the deafening silence and quickly ducked his head down, still breathing hard, his anger seeping away as quickly as it had arrived, replaced with guilt and shame; when he finally chanced a glance up again he found Sirius' jaw clenched tight and his eyes blazing. He looked like he might shout, or cry, or punch something and Harry thought he might vomit at the realisation that he had caused that.
Then suddenly Sirius' hands were on his shoulders, gripping tight and Harry had to push against his natural instinct to run away, reminding himself that this was Sirius, and Sirius wouldn't hurt him, had never hurt him. "It does matter." Sirius said, his voice low now, "It matters a lot, okay?" Harry raised his head, his eyes finally meeting his godfather's and he was hit with the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.
"Okay?" Sirius repeated quietly.
"Okay." Harry whispered, wondering even as he spoke whether it was true.
"Given me more grey hairs than the bloody dementors." Sirius muttered gruffly and then he pulled Harry towards him, engulfing him in a hug before he had really registered what was happening. Harry floundered for a second, his hands flailing awkwardly before he hesitantly returned the embrace; it felt awkward and strange and was definitely going on longer than a normal hug should but the longer Sirius held him the calmer Harry felt and he found himself slowly relaxing into it, his head resting against Sirius’ chest. The man smelt faintly of cigarettes - which was a surprise and made him think of Dudley for a moment - but also of Lupin’s office at Hogwarts somehow, and of lavender, or rather the lavender calming oil that Mrs Weasley had given Harry a vial of months ago, after the tournament, and had told him to rub into his wrists if he got anxious about anything over the summer; he had been too embarrassed to try it, had lied to her that he felt fine, but as soon as he was back in Privet Drive he'd practically bathed in the stuff. The thought that Sirius was using the same oil filled him with a jumble of emotions and he swallowed, tightening his grip on the man’s jumper.
"I don't want you to go after them and get caught" He mumbled against him and felt Sirius tense in response to the confession, before, after a moment, he slowly rubbed his hand up and down Harry's back, "I promise. I won't do anything to risk them taking me away from you." He said quietly, his voice sounding as though he'd eaten too many pepper imps. Harry swallowed, finding himself wondering what it would have been like to have gone to live with Sirius after his third year, or to have been raised by him even. To have always had all this love and care.
He felt his throat tighten again and finally lost his precarious grip on his tears, feeling them trickling down his face even as he tried desperately, quietly, to sniff them back, to stifle a sob.
But then Sirius pressed a kiss to his head and he couldn't hold it back anymore, weeping into his godfather's chest like a child as the man rubbed slow circles on his back, and murmured soothing words that Harry could barely hear. He felt… safe, the safest he'd ever felt actually, and that realisation made him sob harder.
Harry had no idea how long they stayed like that, only that by the time he stepped back and lifted his head it was dark outside. He gave a final sniff and swiped at his nose, aware, distantly, that he should probably be mortified but he just felt too bloody tired. "Sorry."
"Shhh, don't you apologise for anything." Sirius murmured, his voice also thick, and when Harry chanced a glance upwards he saw fresh tear marks on the man's face too and felt a shot of guilt for upsetting him. Sirius guided him towards the bed, pressing another kiss to his head as he sat down beside him, "Harry, I'm so sorry you didn't get the childhood you deserved. I wish…" Sirius hesitated for a second, then swallowed audibly before continuing, "I wish I could wave my wand and whisk you away from here, give you somewhere nice to live and make it so you didn't have to worry about Voldemort and this war."
There was so much Harry wanted to say, about how it wasn't Sirius' fault, about how he wanted to worry about the war so please could Sirius just tell him something, anything, about what was going on with Voldemort. But for some reason when he finally managed to speak all he could think to ask was "Where would we live?"
If Sirius was surprised by the question he didn't show it, "Oooh I dunno. Somewhere tropical?" He suggested, he moved from the bed and Harry felt oddly bereft as he watched the man tap at something on the chest of drawers with his wand, "I have contacts in the Bahamas now, well… Snuffles does." Sirius said and Harry snorted, thinking of Sirius as a dog trying to make friends with muggles. "Or we could go somewhere cold? Siberia maybe? You'd look adorable in one of those furry hats."
"I'm too old to be adorable!" Harry said indignantly and his godfather laughed, turning back around towards him with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
"You will always be adorable baby Harry to me." He said and Harry smiled even as he felt his cheeks heat up. "I haven't done this cocoa spell for decades so if it tastes like troll piss then don't feel obliged to drink it." Sirius added and Harry snorted, taking a sip from his mug. It was good, not quite up to Hogwarts kitchen standards but still good, and he told his godfather so. "Good, mildly worried I was gonna poison you." Sirius smiled warmly, putting his own mug on the bedside table and climbing onto the bed properly, sitting up against the headboard and patting the space beside him, "C'mere, more comfy. You hungry?"
Harry shook his head, feeling too tired for food, and moving to sit beside the man, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as Sirius wrapped an arm around him again, pulling him close and almost upending his mug, "What was I like as a baby?" He asked, not able to imagine it, not able to imagine anything before the Dursleys.
"You know." Sirius sucked his teeth for a second, "You were pretty sick when you were first born. You swallowed some of the fluid or something and weren't breathing well so they had to do it for you for a few days."
"Really?!"
"Yeah it was… it was pretty terrifying." Sirius' arm tightened around him, "Your mum and dad were so scared, but the healers were incredible and within a week you were breathing by yourself and feeding and it was like nothing had happened. And then after that, once they took you home to Godric's Hollow, you were the most placid child." Sirius gave a quiet laugh, "Your dad used to say it was like you knew they'd been through enough already and couldn't cope with any more stress."
Harry smiled at that, letting the warmth of the hot chocolate spread through him, "Did they spoil me?" He asked, wanting to know everything possible about his time with his parents, not sure why he'd never asked before.
"Oh yeah, so much. Even before they knew they had to go into hiding your dad was talking about taking time off work to be at home with you. And that home was the cosiest place… You know your dad had plenty of money, could have got a massive house if he wanted but he just wanted something normal, homely. So they chose this small little family house in Godric's hollow." Harry smiled as he listened, his head felt heavy and his eyes drifted closed for a second before he forced them back open and blinked up at his godfather who smiled at him, "Tired kiddo?"
"No." Harry lied, stifling a yawn as Sirius took his mug from him and put it down on the bedside table, "What was my room like?"
Sirius hummed, "When you were born it was pretty boring, pretty average but… the longer you were in hiding and the older you got the more they decorated the place. Turned your room into this quidditch pitch. Think James was trying to groom you to play for England." Sirius let out a small huff of laughter, "He painted the walls to look like the sky and the stands, and hoops on one wall. And you had this mobile above your cot that was little broomsticks and all the balls, you used to love that thing. Just lie there for ages staring at it." Harry closed his eyes, conjuring the images in his mind, "And you had all these toys to play with, and books cause your mum loved to sit in the rocking chair by the window and read to you before bed…" Harry barely noticed as he slowly drifted off to sleep, his mind full of thoughts of his parents, of how much they had loved him.