Author: Mosh Title: Thereafter Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
His room is bright and airy when he walks in and closes the door behind him. The sun pours in through the window opposite, seeking out every inch of space, filling it with warmth. In fact, his room has never felt so cosy, not even when he was a child, before all the troubles between him and his parents began. It's nice to come home to that for a change. For a moment he wonders whether he's dreaming this, because usually, no matter how many times he, Remus and Molly go about cleaning, Grimmauld Place stubbornly gives off the feeling of slow, damp decay. Almost as if the house has finally given up the fight and has decided to sit back and refuse to cooperate, much to Molly's annoyance. Even Remus has been dropping comments about the rising damp of late, though, it doesn't bother Sirius because he feels no emotional attachment to the house. Not since his early teens, before he'd gone off to school, happily. Sometimes he finds himself wishing that the place would just collapse, so that he could move somewhere else. Maybe Dumbledore would let him hide at Hogwarts so that he could be closer to Harry. Harry. Sirius smiles at the shadow lying across his bedroom floor, the top of which only just reaches his feet from where he is standing. A familiar shape by the window, looking out, a silhouette against the brilliance of the sun. The figure doesn't move or turn around. Sirius wonders why Harry is there in his room, he's never just let himself in like this before. But it doesn't matter, it's not a problem, Harry is welcome to go where he pleases when he's here. Sirius is happy to just have him around, at least until he has to go back to Hogwarts. He sighs contentedly, crossing the room. "Is everything all right?" Harry turns around, but the sunlight obscures Sirius's view of him. The boy remains a silhouette, a nicely familiar shape, hair in a state of chaos around his head. Sirius grins, squinting slightly against the glare. "You're here," Harry whispers quietly, taking his hands out of his pockets to brush that chaotic hair away from his glasses, as if to get a better look at Sirius. He sounds vaguely surprised, a little on edge, perhaps - Sirius isn't sure. He wonders what's going on, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. "Uh, yeah Harry - I live here, so it would make sense." He smiles again, but Harry still doesn't move. There's definitely something out of place - Sirius can feel it in his body, a tingling, and in the air - something's not quite right here. And Harry - he's acting rather odd. It's a little unnerving, almost as if he's waiting for something; his body quite rigid, the silence bated. But Sirius hasn't a clue what. "Are you all right?" Sirius asks again, squinting further, but it does no good because he can't see Harry properly. "Did you and Ron fall out or something?" "Who's Ron?" Sirius is completely lost now. Harry's voice is sincere, there's no hint of a joke, no sarcasm. The boy is still, waiting, a couple of short paces away, sun cascading over his shoulders, its radiant glow blinding Sirius. "Padfoot?" Sirius feels a flutter somewhere deep in his stomach. He tells himself it's a good feeling, but he can't deny some degree of awkwardness. "Calling me Padfoot now, are you?" He doesn't mind, it's just... Harry rarely calls him that. He steps closer, until him and Harry are face to face - God, the boy has grown up so suddenly. He's barely shorter now. Where have the last two years gone, Sirius wonders. "Something's wrong, Harry. Talk to me. What is it?" Harry doesn't move or speak for a long time. Sirius waits with a frown, but the moment he opens his mouth to ask what's wrong again, Harry presses forward suddenly, wrapping his long, warm arms around Sirius's waist, nestling his head under Sirius's chin with a heavy sigh. "You haven't realised," Harry whispers. He puffs out another, much louder sigh. "I've missed you." Oh. That's strange. Now Sirius knows there's something wrong. He wonders whether it's something Snape's said - he's been winding Harry up more and more often of late. Sirius will kill the bastard if he has been - Harry doesn't need that kind of crap right now. "Missed me? But I haven't been anywhere. I'm not allowed to leave the house, remember?" The arms around Sirius's body tighten - so warm - the hair below his face smelling nicely familiar, tickling his skin. But, what an uncharacteristic gesture. Harry's never done anything like this before. He's never been so needy for affection. In truth, Sirius doesn't know how to react to it. Harry moves his head to the side, resting it against Sirius's neck, pressing himself against him harder - nothing but an armful of warm boy. Sirius finds himself reaching up and lightly stroking the back of Harry's neck, where the soft, dark hairs lie, causing the boy to shiver lightly. "I watched you fall... I didn't realise you'd come straight here to be with me," Harry murmurs. He takes in a deep breath, running his hands reassuringly up and down Sirius's back. Then he turns his head and presses his lips, softly, against Sirius's neck. Sirius tries to pull away to ask Harry what's going on, but Harry quickly reaches up and takes Sirius's face into his hands, pulling him down close so that Sirius can see him better. There's such a warm, peaceful expression there. And not for the first time does Sirius marvel at how much Harry resembles- Wait. A breath catches in Sirius's throat. "Harry?" Harry shakes his head slowly, wide brown eyes apologetic. He then leans forward slowly, brushing his soft lips across Sirius's mouth, before drawing back again. Sirius can't move. He stares, blinking. He's very aware of the force of his own heartbeat thudding between their chests suddenly, and his eyes begin to water, vision blurring as it dawns on him. A few weak memories begin to seep back into his mind; things start to click into place and his eyes grow wide, throat almost too tight to breathe. The sun fades suddenly, vanishing behind a cloud in the sky outside. Sirius looks over the other's shoulder, then shudders a sob out into the quiet. It can't be. "Don't worry," the other says, his hands still on either side of Sirius's face, fingertips threaded into his hair. He leans in again, kissing Sirius on the cheek, a cooling breath ghosting across his suddenly-clammy skin. Sirius understands now. He knows who it is. He tries to speak, to ask questions or perhaps scream, but his voice is stuck somewhere in his throat, engaged in battle with another sob that is threatening to escape. The pale hands smooth back through Sirius's hair gently, and the young man pulls him down into another brief kiss, chaste, light and full of things long forgotten. "Oh, God, no..." Sirius moans, drawing back a little way, eyes almost completely blinded by water. "How can this be? I..." "Harry's fine. He's upset, but not harmed. We have a lot to catch up on, don't we?" Sirius feels tears begin to glide freely down his face, unable to stop them. James smiles again, a warm smile that Sirius hasn't seen for years and years. A smile he's only dreamed about until now. He remembers everything suddenly, the force of it sending him to his knees, face in his hands, trying desperately not to cry, but the tears keep coming and he can't do anything about it because he's shaking so hard and trying to breathe. Harry had thought he was at the Ministry, held prisoner by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Oh God, Harry had gone to rescue him, and he had followed, realising Harry had walked into a trap. There had been a fight... he'd been duelling with his cousin, the utter bitch, and then- Sirius can't remember anything after that. Though it's quite obvious what had happened. He feels strong hands wrapping under his arms, hoisting him up onto his feet. When James speaks, his tone is reassuring, compelling. "Don't worry, it's going to be all right Padfoot. We're together now. You won't have to be alone. Come." He takes Sirius by the arm and leads him over to his bed, pushing him down onto it. Sirius sits down heavily, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him, wishing he had a handkerchief at hand. He heaves a shaking breath as James plops down next to him, slinging his arm around Sirius's shoulder like he used to when they were young. Sirius eventually manages to look at his best friend, and notices the subtle differences between his and Harry's face - slightly longer nose, brown eyes that are wider and more carefree than Harry's tired green ones, a misplaced mole on his cheek, solitary against the smooth pale of his skin, and an old, faint scar running along the right side of his jaw from a Quidditch accident back in the seventh year - one where James had been showing off though hadn't seen the Ravenclaw hurtling towards him from the other direction. Sirius remembers it being funny at the time. James offers him a sad smile. After a long time and some effort, Sirius finds himself able to return it weakly. "Really missed you," James says again, pulling Sirius against him until their forehead's are touching. And it's enough. Sirius finds himself moaning a rush of questions and proclamations and ohGod's in one painfully long breath, wondering why here, of all places, it still hurts like hell to even breathe at the thought of James Potter. James waits patiently, holding Sirius in his arms until the shaking stops and his voice tapers off. "I was always watching, you know," James whispers quietly. "You and my boy." ~Fin~ |
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