Chapter Text
Moonlight filtered in through the grimy window, casting a soft glow on Harry’s face. Not much from outside seemed to permeate the walls of Twelve Grimmauld Place, not even the sound of cars and sirens that are customary for central London. It was a place of stagnation - a place frozen in time.
Regardless, it had vastly improved in the holiday season. The stuffiness that suffocated the house at summer break was gone, replaced with frosted window panes and roaring fires. Likewise, Sirius appeared to be in greater spirits. After he got company for Christmas, his transformation from gloomy and haggard to bright and singing carols was almost eerie. It went to show how lonely he was before, Harry thought.
If there was a way for him to contact his Godfather more frequently at Hogwarts, not limited to cautious calls in the fireplace, he would take it any day. And yet now, when he had weeks of free time to spend with Sirius in person, the two didn’t really… talk. Sure, they would rant about propaganda in the Daily Prophet, and pore over the crossword together, but they never had a conversation about each other. Harry found he barely even knew Sirius, and didn’t know why. Perhaps it was normal. Ron surprisingly didn’t know much about his uncles who died in the first war with Voldemort, for example. It seemed Mrs Weasley didn’t like talking about them. And Hermione went to a family reunion once and met most people there for the first time. And yet, the lives of Sirius and Harry were so closely entwined that it hurt to feel almost awkward around each other.
Harry sighed and heaved himself out of bed. His mind was racing a thousand miles an hour. Apparently, he wouldn’t get to sleep in a while. A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione reminded him that he certainly wouldn’t get any sleep ambling around the house, and he promptly shut it up. The truth was, part of him didn’t even want to sleep. He might wake up Ron with another nightmare, and though the wards on the house were so thorough that he could probably cast a silencing charm around his bed, he didn’t want to risk another run-in with the Ministry. Plus, no silencing charm could prevent the moment of terror he felt before jolting awake.
He padded gently downstairs - maybe for the forlorn sort of feeling of the once-busy halls. But when he passed the drawing room, he realised it wasn’t completely deserted. Through the open door, he could see Sirius sitting at the old piano. Harry wondered why he chose to settle down there; Sirius hated that room, with its pretentious tapestry of his tumbleweed of a family tree. Then he put down the book of sheet music he was holding and turned around to face Harry.
“Why are you up, Harry? Isn’t it, what, midnight?” he asked, voice humorous and lacking reprimand.
“Two o’clock, actually,” Harry whispered. “I wouldn’t play a tune if I were you. Ginny and Hermione sleep on this floor and they won’t take too kindly to a witching hour serenade.”
Sirius looked confused for a second, before looking back at the piano and laughing.
“Oh, I haven’t played piano since I finally got out of lessons. See –”
He held up the sheet music, and Harry noticed that it was covered in labels and notes added in ink. He walked over to take a closer look. The handwriting was neat and lavish, detailing subtleties in the song. Sirius flicked to the inside cover, which bore the name “Regulus Arcturus Black”.
“This old thing belonged to my little brother. Leave it to him to be a try-hard.”
“I was trying to figure out where I recognised his name. Apparently he didn’t try hard enough not to leave the Death Eaters,” Harry said bitterly.
“Idiot was pointing the wand straight at himself. He had it coming. Still… his death was so unnecessary. I would’ve looked after him if his head wasn’t so far up his own - Anyway. You don’t want to hear all this.”
Harry paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. When Sirius described his brother after Harry saw his name on the family tree, it seemed like he hated him. But of course, it made sense that a part of him still cared.
Harry tried to imagine how he would feel if Dudley kicked the bucket. He was an objectively horrible person who deserved to get his comeuppance, but death? He was still a teenager, after all. And Regulus had been just eighteen. All that potential, gone. Like a candle snuffed out.
Suddenly, Sirius reached out and grabbed Harry’s wrist. He was shocked out of his thoughts, and instinctively tried to twist himself free. Sirius quickly let go, staring at the back of Harry’s hand in horror.
Realisation dawned, and his stomach flipped. The scar Harry got from Umbridge’s detention was on full display, usually covered by the baggy jumpers he wore in the daytime. He fruitlessly hid his hand with his sleeve, but it was too late. Sirius’s eyes were wide and his brow furrowed.
“Um,” was all Harry could say. He wanted to run from the room. Sirius was frightening when he was angry sometimes, even if it wasn’t directed towards him.
“Show me your hand.”
His voice was dark and quiet, giving way to no emotion. It would’ve been better if he started shouting. Harry was ashamed of that scar - the indignity of having I must not tell lies carved into his skin. Heat rose up the back of his neck.
“Can - can we go somewhere quieter first? I mean, more private? Like downstairs?” Harry babbled, stalling.
“Everyone else is either asleep or can’t hear you, but close the door if you want to make sure.”
Harry gladly turned away, not that he was making eye contact anyway, and shut the door behind them. He made a beeline back to Sirius and showed him his hand before he could stop himself.
The cut was deep, and barely scabbing over. The skin surrounding it was pink and irritated, scratched raw by Harry underneath his sleeve. The silence was too much to bear. Harry shrank under the scrutiny, feeling a bit sick. Finally, Sirius stammered out a question.
“How - did you..? Who did this?”
His voice was hoarse and unsteady, like he was a second away from breaking down. Harry tugged his hand away, guilt pounding in his ears. He often wished he could get in bath and scrub his scars right off, but that desire now became overwhelming.
“You know the new Defence Professor? The one from the Ministry?”
“Umbridge?” Sirius spat, like the name left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Yeah. Well, I’ve been writing lines in detention with her -”
“She used a goddamn blood quill?!”
“How do you know about those?” asked Harry, trying to divert the attention away from himself. Sirius ignored him and started pacing up and down, then sank back into his chair.
“How long?” he croaked, like he couldn’t trust himself to say anything else. Harry wrung his hands, resisting the urge to scratch and claw at the scab.
“I had detention for a while, but I’ve finished now. It’s over, don’t worry.”
Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose, face hidden in his hand. Harry didn’t want to disappoint him; would Sirius think he was weak for this? If he did… Well, it was too late to do anything about it now, except show he wasn’t bothered.
“It’s over now,” he repeated. “It’s already happened. There are worse thing going on, and -”
“Harry, listen to me,” Sirius interrupted. “This is not over. Stop trying to brush this under the rug. Who else have you told?”
“I didn’t tell you, you grabbed my hand,” Harry grumbled, bad temper on the rise. He immediately regretted it. Sirius, however, just ignored him.
“Does anyone else know?
“Ron and Hermione, but I told them not to tell anyone.”
“Just - why, Harry?” Sirius said, voice wavering. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? It’s abuse! I swear, I’ll…”
“Oh yeah, and everyone cares so much about me getting abused! It helped so much when I was shoved back to the Dursleys’ this summer and you were all… Never mind,” he trailed off, ashamed of his outburst. Sirius was looking at him in shock, gripping the side of the piano like he was trying to ground himself. Harry couldn’t take it any more. He stormed out of the room, wanting to leave the house altogether. Instead, he stalked up the stairs. He could just make out Ginny and Hermione whispering frantically from behind their door. However, he certainly didn’t miss the sound of Sirius swearing loudly.