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Summary
When Sirius returned from the Veil, Harry expected their relationship to go back to the way it was before. Godfatherly. Familiar. Reassuring. Except this Sirius refuses to look him in the eye and flees at the mere idea of an honest conversation, and Harry can’t stop noticing him in a decidedly un-godfatherly way.
They pass each other in Grimmauld Place like strangers until one night forces a confrontation that will ruin them forever—or give them everything they might want.***
“But that’s—Padfoot,” Sirius chokes out, squatting to examine the Patronus more closely. “I remember—a stag. Your Patronus used to be a stag. Prongs, to be more exact.”
Harry shrugs, his insides scraped a bit raw after the revelation. “Emphasis on 'used to.'"