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Little bare feet tap softly against the hard floor. The toddler totters. He has on his side the determination of a small child who knows both he's not allowed to do something and there is no one here to stop him.
He stops before the closed door, his little face scrunched in concentration. Let uncle Paddy sleep is a small rule. When Harry sleeps, it takes no time at all, and Paddy has been holed up in his room for ages already. Do not open closed doors, on the other hand, is a big big rule. Nana will not be happy with him. But it will be later, and Harry is still quite fuzzy with what later means, so he opens the door.
"Paddy?" he calls, trying to keep his voice low, like Uncle Moony taught him to do when Uncle Paddy is asleep.
The room is dark, like Harry’s room when he is supposed to be napping. Like right now for example. Nana has extinguished the candles with a turn of her wand before kissing his cheeks, on both sides, and tucking him into bed.
"Sleep well," she said, her brown eyes glinting with affection, her hands soft on his forehead.
But Harry doesn't sleep today. He wants to see Uncle Paddy. He misses him so much. He has missed him for so long he almost didn’t remember him when he came back. It makes his uncle sad, and Harry doesn't want to see him sad. Paddy is not made to be sad.
Paddy used to laugh with all his body, shivering against Harry or Nana or Moony or Dada or Mommy. Harry can remember that now.
He doesn't exactly remember his father’s laugh, so he imagines it sounds a bit like Paddy’s. He doesn't tell them he has forgotten. He knows it will make all of them sad.
Dada was tall with big hands that used to launch him in the air. He had glasses that Harry wasn’t supposed to grab and dark hair always so disheveled a toddler grabbing it made no difference. Mommy was always smiling and smelled good. Her arms were a shelter and her dark red hair a blanket where Harry could hide from the world.
Nana shows him pictures of them every evening. Harry knows what they looked like, but he keeps forgetting what they really sounded like when they weren't just pictures.
Uncle Paddy is sleeping over the blankets, and Harry finds that a bit funny. It’s a bit cold inside, even with the fire going, and Paddy is shivering. Since he came back, Paddy is easily cold. Moony said it was because he lost weight, and Harry doesn't know how it’s even possible, but he remembers his Uncle Paddy is more fragile than before. Moony told him to be careful with him, and Harry understands what it means.
It’s like when Harry was sick. Nana asked him to take care of the toddler, so Moony sat on the side of Harry’s bed to read a book with him.
Paddy is ill. Harry doesn't know how to read yet, but he can still sit with him. And maybe lie on the bed too.
Maybe he is a bit tired. Harry is still a little boy after all, and it is time for his nap.
Remus opens Sirius’ door with a mix of dread and joy, using the tray he carries as a shield of some sort. He is ridiculous. It doesn't stop him from hiding behind what looks like buttered scones. Mrs. Potter seems to believe it’s her job to "put meat on her boys’ bones," to quote her. Remus has learnt there is no way to change her opinion on the matter.
He is egoistically glad about it.
In the bed, Sirius has his eyes open.
"Shh," he says. "He's sleeping."
Remus looks down, and sure enough here is Harry, curled against Sirius’ back like a kitten against a part-proud, part-surprised dog. Sirius seems stuck and to have no idea what to do.
Harry lets out a sleepy sound, and Sirius smiles tentatively to his surviving best friend. It’s not his smile from before Azkaban, and it’s probably a good thing. Sirius’ old smile, full of teenage rebellion, would be odd on his emaciated face.
Remus’ family is now small and broken, but at least Sirius is still able to smile, even if it hurts, and Harry is growing into a happy little boy. Remus has to stay convinced they will heal, the three of them and Nana Potter together.
It starts small, with Sirius smiling. And it’s a first step.