Chapter Text
January 16, 1986
12 Grimmauld Place, London, England
Sirius Black POV
The nightmares came for both of them that night. In the early hours of the morning, past midnight but before purple started to tinge the skeletal winter trees, Sirius Black sat up bolt upright in bed, adrenaline already coursing through his veins, his eyes flying open.
The nightmares were unrelenting.
Shaky, and trying not to hyperventilate, he dug his palms into his temples. Trying to force air into his lungs, he rationalized alone in the middle of the night, not for the first time. He knew what to say, knew what he needed to hear. He focused on things in the room- tactile feelings, like the duvet under his hands, the smell of Moony's tea from last night sitting on the bedside table. He honed in on his senses and picked out reality from the remnants of his nightmare.
He put two fingers to his pulse, struggled to breathe and whispered the words that he and Moony had decided on when the nightmares first started. "There is no one in the house. There is no one coming to hurt us. The dream wasn't real. Harry is safe." Moony was still sleeping, but Sirius placed a hand on his partner's back, just to feel his warm skin, dozing and full of life. "Moony is safe." He whispered, just to hear the reassurance.
His heart was still beating a mile a minute, but he could discern real, waking life from the lingering demons now. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, peering into the shadowy doorway. The presence was imagined- it was a lingering phantom of the dark world in his dreams.
He took a deep breath. He was safe.
He tried to get his breathing in check, and by instinct, glanced over at Remus again. He looked so peaceful in sleep, so rested. He’d been so tired the day before. He really needed this sleep, and Sirius took another quiet deep breath, careful not to wake him.
Sirius’s pulse kept hammering, his heartbeat wild against his ribs- he still awoke to Regulus’s screams sometimes, to aching grief, to green light blinding him behind his eyes, to screams of the cruciatus curse knocking all the air out of his lungs.
Around Halloween he’d dream vividly, then wake to the images of James’s broken glasses, Harry’s small, frightened face in the crib at the Potters’ house, blown apart and cracked at the foundation like an eggshell.
The hole in the roof.
The night sky, the air greedy with death and loss.
The clouds covering the stars, mocking him, saying ‘you couldn’t protect them.’ The horrible guilt that followed.
He would sit on the windowsill and watch the moon, wait until his breathing returned to normal, or else sit on the floor by Harry’s bed and watch him sleep. He would play over the words that haunted his peace, framed with Remus’s broken, exhausted shoulders, caved in: ‘Please, Sirius. Don’t go after him. Not tonight. I need you. Harry needs you.’
The decision he made to protect what was left that he loved, the choice he made to defy what everyone thought was a betrayal- it haunted him every single day. He didn't regret it, but so many times he thought of the other way it could have gone, the other things he could have done that night.
It wasn't his own actions that haunted him. In his mind, on a loop, he replayed Remus’s voice. The memory was hollow, but still shellshocked and empty and scared. If Remus hadn’t held his wrist, like a vise, afraid to let go, he might have done just that- gone after Wormtail. Blown it all up, ruined this.
If Remus hadn’t followed him to Godric’s Hollow, hadn’t trusted his bad feeling, hadn’t sobbed in realization when the Fidelius Charm was broken, hadn’t realized that Sirius had switched secret keepers- if Remus hadn’t trusted him, Harry might not be with them, and they might not be together. Despite the infinite reasons that Remus had to doubt him, he didn't. Remus had trusted him.
Yes, if it weren’t for Remus, they wouldn’t have their son. It was moments like these that he was so grateful for his partner that his eyes filled with tears. So many times he'd awoken from nightmares and remembered that, cried raggedly against the sea-blue walls of the nursery, his head resting on the bed frame where their child lay.
On nights when he awoke from tormenting dreams, he would sit and watch Harry sleep, remind himself that he was alive and breathing, and then walk quietly back to his bed and hold Remus until he drifted off again or until dawn, whichever came first. His pulse had steadied. He was breathing normally now. "Alright, Padfoot." He whispered to himself. Okay. He would go check on Harry, that was what he would do- but Harry beat him to it.
“Padfoot?” The voice was tiny and unsure. He hadn’t imagined it.
“Padfoot? Are you awake?” Whispered the voice again, and Sirius breathed out a sigh of relief. He threw back his duvet and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his flannel pajamas thin and worn, his bare feet cold on the creaking floorboards, careful not to wake Remus, who was snoring softly on the half of the bed closer to the window.
“Come here, Haz.” Small feet pattered to the bedside, and within seconds, a scrawny five year old Harry had climbed (more like launched himself) into Sirius’s lap, clutching his stuffed Hungarian Horntail tightly around its plush horns.
He hugged him ferociously, like he was afraid that the monsters in the closet might seize him away at any second. Harry nestled into his chest, shaking ever so slightly, in the way that Sirius knew instantly was from the aftereffects of a particularly bad nightmare.
“I can’t sleep,” he sniffled pitifully.
His chest immediately constricted. “Shhhh,” he murmured, holding Harry tightly against his body, refusing to let him go to the shadows of Grimmauld Place. “You’re safe.”
Sirius had hated living here at first, but he’d also insisted on it- ‘it’s the safest place for Harry’ he had said, bitter and resentful. Remus knew he was right, and caved in. His mother had died the year before, the inheritance was his, and the wards were strong and impenetrable. They left their flat, held their living friends at arms length, distrust and fear running rampant. The loss was insurmountable.
And at the time, when both friends and foes alike could not be trusted, in the wake of such a deep betrayal, it had felt like the only option.
It had taken a lot of work to make 12 Grimmauld Place, which was decrepit and evil, livable and beautiful- but Remus had a domestic touch, and soon, the house was cozy and, indeed, very safe. Like a stronghold against those who wanted to take Harry away from them. Let them try, thought Sirius darkly, holding Harry tighter.
“What’s up?” He whispered, rubbing soothing circles into Harry’s shoulder. Harry stuck his thumb in his mouth and sniffled. “Had a bad dream.” He mumbled, sleepy and upset. Sirius sighed, shifted Harry onto his hip, and stood up. “I’m sorry, baby.” Harry snuggled deeper into Sirius’s chest. “It was scary.” Said Harry, his voice trembling.
“It’s over now,” Sirius repeated gently to Harry, picking up his wand and shoving his glasses onto his face as he walked out of the room quietly, so as not to disturb Remus. “It was just a dream.”
Sirius started the walk back to Harry’s room slowly, bouncing Harry on his hip, rocking him back to rest. Soon he’d be too big for this- but not quite yet.
“I saw mummy.” Breathed Harry into his shoulder, where his head rested in the crook of Sirius’s neck. Sirius froze, his spine stiffened. Almost immediately, he changed courses, and absently started walking down the stairs, on instinct.
“Oh.” Said Sirius softly. “You did?” Harry nodded heavily, his forehead drooping. “Mm.” He mumbled. “She was in my dream.” They two of them walked down the hall at the foot of the stairs, headed straight for the kitchen.
Sirius shifted Harry’s weight on his hip and flicked his wand at a lantern. It lit in a low flame, casting a dim but warm glow across the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, lighting the flame on the stove. The kettle started to whistle almost immediately.
“What was your mummy doing?” He breathed, afraid for the response.
Harry was silent for a long moment. Sirius wondered if he’d fallen back asleep, but finally he replied, “She was lying on the floor.” Sirius felt his heart break, but he forced himself to keep it together. “I see.”
“She was maybe sleeping.” Added Harry, sounding troubled, “on’y her eyes were open.” Sirius held Harry tightly and nodded.
“Padfoot?” Whispered Harry after a moment. Sirius set Harry down on the countertop and looked at him. He remembered his promise to always be completely honest, and braced himself for the question that was coming.
The kettle was whistling properly when Harry said in a hushed voice, “She and daddy went away. I won’t see them again. They’re gone.” He said it like a question, with the heaviness of the knowledge it was true. Sirius nodded, a dam inside him threatening to burst. He forced the flood away. “That’s right.”
Harry’s brow was furrowed, and he held his stuffed dragon to his chest. “They’re not sleeping, are they?” The silence was agonizing.
The words tore out of Sirius, as patient and calm as he made them sound. “No. They’re not sleeping.”
Harry nodded, seeming too old for his tiny frame, too small to understand this big, awful truth.
“Where did they go?” Asked Harry, his lower lip trembling. “Why did they leave? Did I do something wrong?” Sirius swept Harry up in another hug, feeling tears soak his pajamas, the shoulders of a scared little boy shaking uncertainly. “No, no, no. You did nothing wrong, love. You did nothing wrong. They didn’t want to leave. They loved you so much. They still do love you, just from very far away.” He held Harry’s arms and looked in his eyes very closely.
“I love you, Haz. Moony loves you. We love you so much, more than anything in the world. You are our whole sky. And I promise, you didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all.”
Harry nodded shyly. His tears had stopped. His body was quieter, calmer. The words were a comfort.
“But where did they go?” Harry was tentative and curious. Sirius didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat and summoned his chipped mug and Harry’s little thermos with the sippy cup lid. He transfigured the hot water into hot chocolate and poured it into the two cups, frowning slightly. “Give me a moment to think.” He said to Harry.
Harry fidgeted awkwardly with his dragon and took the cup from Sirius, watching him carefully and blowing on it like he did. He was such a little imitator, thought Sirius fondly. He’d read about that behavior in one of Remus’s many parenting books.
“I suppose don’t know where they went for sure,” admitted Sirius finally. “I like to think they might be in the sky now. But your mummy also loved flowers, so maybe they’re in a garden. And your daddy loved clouds, so maybe they sit on clouds and watch over us. Maybe all three. They can go wherever you want them to in your imagination.”
Harry nodded, contemplating this. “I think they are in the stars.”
Sirius smiled. “Oh yeah?”
Harry nodded earnestly. “Yeah. Sometimes when I look out the window I see the stars.”
Sirius smiled. He pulled a book out of the cabinet with the mugs and the spices. Their kitchen was chaotic, to say the least, and beside the wizard cookbooks and the muggle one with the title “Forty Recipes To Feed Your Picky Toddler” was a plastic yellow dump truck, a squeaky magenta rubber duck, and a stack of storybooks.
The one Sirius chose had a worn spine, stick notes all through it, and as he flipped though it, the charm that made it project blue and white stars on the ceiling kicked up and started shining galaxies across the moonlit room. Harry was obsessed with this book. “Constellations” was what it was called, simply, by Mayall Cartwheel, and Sirius had owned it since his childhood. It had lived on his bedside table at Hogwarts, come with him to the Potters, lived in his rucksack during the war, been the first book on the shelf at his and Moony’s earliest flat.
Inside it were inked, illustrated pictures of galaxies, stars, deep space, and mythological creatures that told stories about the constellations. It was full of both muggle and wizarding knowledge, outlandish astrological theories, astronomical facts, and notes in the margins penciled in by a teenaged Sirius.
Some pages were dog eared, well loved, the spine cracked in certain spots, and Remus had filled the book with sticky notes that labeled their favorite pages, with traced sketches of the different constellations that Harry liked to doodle. When Sirius took it down, rather reverently, Harry beamed.
“Canis Major.” Harry’s fingertip landed on his favorite page, which the book had automatically fallen open to. The picture was vivid and well-known.
“That’s right. And there’s Sirius” he pointed out the star he was named for, “and there’s Lepus and Canis Minor,” he added, flipping to the next page.
Canis Major was charmed onto Harry’s ceiling, appearing wherever the celestial body was in the sky, as was a glowing moon that moved through the moon cycle. As expected, Harry’s face lit up, his dreams temporarily forgotten, and his hands eagerly reached for the book.
Sirius scooped Harry up and sat him down on a stool at the kitchen island, the book in front of him, his dragon and his hot chocolate on the marble beside him. Sirius grabbed his robe from a hook and pulled it on, tightening it around his waist. His heart filled with appreciation for the little kid with the messy hair, the scraped knees, and the footie pajamas patterned with golden snitches with the gold buttons up the front.
Sirius leaned on his elbows on the counter, pointing out stars, asking Harry those knowledge questions that they both loved talking about. “Which one is that?”
Harry grinned. “That’s the Andromeda galaxy!” He said excitedly. “Auntie Andie is named after it!” Sirius laughed affectionately. “That’s right!”
Harry flipped through the pages, quiet and calm, pointing at various stars, chattering about them, and tracing the glowing stickers that Remus had bordered certain pages with. “Padfoot?” Whispered Harry. Sirius smiled again. “Uh huh?”
“Which star are mummy and daddy?”
Sirius was struck dumb by this. “What do you think, Haz? What star means something to you?” Harry sat quietly for a long moment before he replied. “Is there one that means family?”
Sirius nodded. “Of course.” He flipped through a few pages until he found it. “Here. Do you remember this one? Can you sound out the name?” Harry squinted at it. He tried out the words carefully, his reading skills early and unsteady. Remus, the proud owner of a bookshop, had been teaching him to read ever since he was small.
“Urr- ursa- mayor?”
“Ursa Major. Very close. Good job.” Harry smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I know this one. The bears.” Sirius nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. The bears. Ursa Major and Ursa Minor- a parent bear and a baby bear. They symbolize family.”
Harry beamed. “Like us.” Sirius felt his heart melt. “Just like us.”
Harry looked at him, a hopeful expression on his face. “Can mummy and daddy be in our family?” Sirius hugged him again. “Oh, Haz. They already are.” Harry snuggled in again, and Sirius breathed in his familiar scent- clean laundry detergent, a bit of lavender, oatmeal baby wash. It felt like a blanket. Any traces of his own nightmare dissipated with that smell, the smell of home, of belonging.
“I feel better now, Padfoot.” Said Harry quietly. Sirius smiled. “Okay. That’s good. Do you feel ready to go to sleep now?” Harry looked at him hesitantly. “I’m still scared.” Sirius nodded. He smiled softly. “Want to look at the real stars?”
Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius’s neck and allowed him to scoop him up. “Can we?” He asked shyly. Sirius winked. “As long as you don’t tell Moony we were up for so many minutes in the night.” Harry giggled as Sirius tickled his feet, still safely wrapped in the footie pajamas. “Let’s go outside”
Sirius squashed a fluffy Gryffindor hat that was far too big for Harry onto his head, flattening his dark hair and making him giggle more. He stuck Harry’s feet in his crocheted rainbow slippers, the ones with the little leather soles, that Lily had made for him when he was a baby, out of yarn that was enchanted to grow with his feet. He wiggled red mittens onto Harry’s hands. He stuck his own feet in his Doc Martens but left them unlaced, and took Harry outside, balanced on his hip.
The January cold was biting, but the snow on the ground was soft from the blizzard the night before, and the winter night was clear. The lights were off in most of London, and removed as they were from the urban street, standing in the thin backyard with the inky shadows seeping into the frosted ground, they could see the whole sky lit up with stars.
Harry sighed softly into Sirius’s shoulder, and he leaned into him gently. “See? There it is.” He pointed out the stars which lay to the northeast of the house. “Ursa Major.” Harry nodded, sucking on his thumb and shivering in the chill.
Sirius smiled softly, nudging Harry and pointing to Canis Major. “There’s your favorite.” Harry traced the outline of the constellation with his little red mitten.
“The bright one is Sirius, right?” Said Harry sleepily.
Sirius tickled him until he giggled. “Mm hm. The one that watches over you always, just like me.”
Harry smiled goofily.
There was a long, silent moment, where they held each other and looked at the sky together, peaceful and happy. “Tell me a story, Padfoot.” He said, tilting his chin up to look at the sky, his breath a puff of air in the starlight.
Sirius shifted his weight and hummed a bit, thinking carefully. “Well,” he began, “have I ever told you about the time that Auntie Mary and your mum found me up on the astronomy tower in the middle of the night looking at the sky?”
Harry’s mouth dropped open. “No.” He said, hushed and worshipping. He loved stories with Mary and Lily. Sirius smirked. “Well, one time, I was having a tough time sleeping, so I walked up ten flights of stairs to the very tip top of the tower to look at the stars.” He left out the part where he had just kissed Remus for the first time, realized he was gay, freaked out, and sat cross legged on the balcony smoking a joint and crying quietly.
“Anyway, then your mummy and Auntie Mary walked right in to the room and found me singing a song about the stars.” (They actually found him sobbing to Bowie but whatever) “So then your mum sat right down beside me and we all laid down the three of us on the ground and sang songs together and we even cried a little bit because we were very happy to be friends and to be at Hogwarts together.”
This was true, and he smiled thinking of it. Mary and Lily had held his hands while they all laid in a circle under the stars and cried together. They didn’t know why he was crying, but they had been there while he shattered into pieces and still loved him anyway.
“Where was daddy?”
“Hm?” Sirius looked down at him.
Harry, mesmerized by the story, repeated himself. “Where was daddy?” Sirius coughed, turning red.
James had been so extraordinarily drunk at the time that he was, in fact, passed out on a couch in the common room with a lampshade for a hat while Sirius was held by Lily and Mary. “Er…” He was temporarily caught off guard by the amount of details he had to omit from this story.
Harry sighed dramatically, and Sirius resisted a smile. “You always forget your stories, Padfoot. Where was Moony? You must remember that!” Sirius turned an even deeper shade of red. That was a whole other story for a whole other day when Harry was a whole lot older.
“Daddy and Moony were reading in the library.” He said tactfully.
“Oh.” Said Harry. To his brain, this explanation made a lot of sense, based on Moony’s personality.
“Can you sing me the song about the stars?”
Sirius let out a surprised laugh. “Sure.” And there, warmed by a heating charm, he sang the entirety of ‘Space Oddity’ by David Bowie.
When he finished that song, Sirius rocked him from side to side, humming lullabies softly under his breath. He sang all the wizard ones he knew from Molly Weasley and her many, many children- (‘The Witch and the Toad’, ‘Goodnight Magic’ and ‘This Little Felix Flask Of Mine’). When he ran out of lullabies, he sang Stairway to Heaven, but so quietly that it could be mistaken for a traditional lullaby.
Harry drifted off like that, and Sirius took him inside after about fifteen minutes standing in the darkness. Their breath came out in frozen puffs of mist, and Sirius shut the door quietly behind them, rocking Harry back and forth as he slipped his feet out of his Docs and tugged the mittens and hat and crocheted booties off of the little sleeping boy.
He carried him up the stairs and tucked him into his little toddler bed, making sure the dragon was tucked in tight next to him. His little messy haired head lolled onto the pillow, and he pulled the duvet patterned with sailboats and steam trains over Harry.
Sirius lingered in the doorway for a long moment, looking around the room at the toys and trinkets and the shelf of bright, cheerful children’s books that Remus had so lovingly put together. There were hand-sewn dolls with green button eyes, yarn for hair, and stripey leggings. There were little animal stuffies, bears and foxes and dogs and wolves and deer, lining a shelf that sat high up on the wall. Fairy lights dangled by the dresser beside the door. Neatly organized boxes of socks and a pretend toolbox sat by a table neatly decorated with a blue gingham cloth and a polka dot china tea set.
A lamp which projected comforting rosy light at the ceiling sat by the bed, beside a little alarm clock shaped like a red piano. A record player with a stack of sweet records sat by the comfy rocker underneath the bay window. The nook was full of throw pillows and a cozy blanket that Remus would curl up under when he read to Harry in the evenings.
He looked at the old school trunk painted blue and covered in scientifically accurate illustrations of different kinds of fish. Mary had painted it when Lily first announced that she was pregnant- Mary had always dreamed of a career in marine studies, and had often talked about traveling the world to study exotic magical creatures like Deep Sea Kelpies and Rare Japanese Grindylows.
It was an item that they’d recovered from the wreckage of the cottage in Godric’s Hollow, and one that brought Remus especially a lot of joy. It was full of magical and muggle toys- trains that whistled, plastic dinosaurs that talked in French accents and wore miniature top hats, figures of hippogriffs and bowtruckles, a toy cauldron and potion set.
Babbitty Rabbitty (Harry’s favourite) sat on the little bedside table, as did muggle classics like Beatrix Potter and Hans Christian Anderson. Remus had come up with fantastical backstories for these authors, and had written and bound a few of his own tales for Harry’s bedtime, often involving dragon-slaying knights with flowing red hair and freckles and bright green eyes, or wise wizards and healers with messy hair and glasses and a kind heart.
He smiled bittersweetly at his son and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, sweet Haz.”
He shut the door partway behind him as he left the room, walking down the hall in his bare feet. Harry’s room was off the second landing, and a little ways down the hall was Remus and Sirius’s room. In between the bedrooms there was a shared bathroom with all of Harry’s things- a yellow step stool, a million bath toys, bubbles and soaps and a shower curtain with sunflowers, a collection of sailboats and candles on the windowsill, strawberry toothpaste and glowing marbles for the bath.
Baby gates closed off the third floor and above staircase from Harry. Remus and Sirius used the first bathroom above it- it was where they kept the potions and medicines that they didn’t want Harry getting into. It was also easier to get ready for the day when there wasn’t a million kid objects everywhere.
Upstairs above that was the study and old rooms full of pure blood heritage or furniture covered in white dust covers. It reminded Sirius of ghosts, and he didn’t like going up there unless he had to. Remus had left those floors alone, except for clearing out any dangerous or cursed objects, because they really didn’t need that much space.
Remus used an office on the first floor as his study, and had cleared out the library of any nonsense and filled it with overflow from the bookstore. There was a living room full of mismatched furniture, a teetering shelf covered in records, CDs, an old junked up radio, and yet more books.
Decks of cards and wizard chess was clumped haphazardly in a corner, and the entrance to the play room was arched and decorated with Harry’s measurements on one wall. Mary had painted part of a mural on one wall, so a half-finished arctic seascape covered the far wall and part of the fireplace and mantle. Lamps and more toys sat everywhere, and James’s old guitar case rested by the piano that Sirius sometimes played. Remus kept his bass guitar in the basement and only took it out when Sirius and Harry joined forces to beg, or on James’s birthday.
The playroom had a bunch of beanbags that Sirius and Harry would play “lava” on while Remus was at work, because it did make quite a mess and they liked to clamber up on piles of furniture. Just yesterday, they had done three penguin puzzles in quick succession, then pushed all the dining room chairs into a line and played “Safari”. Sirius had bewitched the stuffed animals to walk around and act like real tigers and elephants.
Then they’d had a dance party to ABBA, in deference to Mary. Her gift to them the last time she had visited was a pristine copy of “Voulez-Vous” and Harry could not get enough. It drove both Remus and Sirius crazy, but they tolerated it because of how much Harry adored disco.
Sirius bemoaned this, citing it as a parenting failure that their child couldn’t appreciate true music. Remus assured him, amusedly, that someday when Harry was wearing beat up converse and bomber jackets, growing out his hair, and imitating Sirius, he would develop a grown up appreciation for AC/DC. As far as Sirius was concerned, it was promising that Harry liked the Beatles and Led Zeppelin so far. There would be a breakthrough at some point- he could convince him of hard rock when he was older.
He was struck with a memory of a three year old Harry in his little converse sneakers, and his shirt with the sea lions on it and the bright yellow Care Bear pants, a frog bucket hat, singing Yellow Submarine with Sirius, stomping in puddles and screeching at the steam rushing up from the downtown grates. He remembered being hand in hand as they pointed at red buses and made up words for the lyrics they didn’t know and looked in the windows of coffee shops, nibbling on cranberry scones and wearing their matching sunglasses.
Overwhelmed with the heartfelt memory, and overcome with nostalgia, he walked slowly back to his room and tried to stave off the complicated tears, welling up from that place of grief and love and confusing tenderness that lived in his stomach.
Sirius felt tears pricking his eyes as he climbed back in bed with Remus, pulling the duvet over himself and curling into his husband, holding him tight around the waist and closing his burning eyes. Remus rolled over, mumbling something that sounded like, “Where you go” from his half-asleep dreamland, before gently pulling him in and holding him close.
Sirius tried to hide the sniffle, but he failed, and Remus’s eyes opened blearily.
“Sirius?” He murmured, immediately concerned. He cupped his chin in his hand tenderly, looking in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Moony. Harry just had a bad dream.”
Remus sat up instantly, panicked. “Is he okay?”
Sirius put a soothing hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. He’s okay now.”
Remus lay back down. He ran a hand through Sirius’s hair and kissed his forehead sweetly. “You should have woken me.” He sounded worried.
Sirius smiled. “I know. I could’ve. But you were so tired yesterday, and I had him.”
Remus sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Sirius shook his head immediately. “Don’t apologize. I just- he dreamt about Lily. Flashbacks, I assume, it sounded like a bad nightmare.”
Remus sat up again, alarmed. “Are you sure he’s okay?”
Sirius held up a placating hand. “I’m sure, Remus. He’s sleeping. He’s all right now. I made him some hot chocolate and we looked at the stars book and stood outside for a bit. It’s fine, he’s fine, I’m fine.” But the unmistakable dampness on his face gave him away.
“You’re crying.” Said Remus, troubled.
Sirius scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s nothing. It’s silly.” He muttered.
Remus stroked his face. “It’s not nothing, Padfoot. What’s wrong?”
Sirius shrugged. “He was asking questions- about where James and Lily are, about what happened to them, about death in general. It was just sad.” His voice broke. “It’s just really sad. And I-I wish they were here, to help us, to tell us what to do, to tell him they love him. I wish he could see them, meet them, know them. I just wish he knew how much they love him, they love him so much. I know they did- I know they do…”
Remus had his arms around him immediately. “Shhh. I know. He knows you love him, Sirius. He knows I love him. He knows we love him. And he does, he knows, I promise you that he knows Lily and James love him, too. That’s what matters. That’s all that matters.”
Remus circled him in his arms and held him, keeping him safe from the world of grief that rained down on them, shielding him from the loveless legacy of this cursed old house, filling the space between their beating hearts with fragile, glass hopes for their baby boy, but dreams and love so strong that it could tear the universe in two.
Sirius would fight the world for Harry. He would go to hell and back. He would tear the galaxy in two to protect him. He would do anything for him.
All he wanted in the world was to show him, to prove to him, how loved he was. And in this moment, in Remus’s arms, he thought that maybe he had done just that.
Down the hall, Harry dreamed peacefully at last.