Chapter Text
Harry
“Hey Sirius,” Harry says.
Sirius starts, then looks up from the book he’d been going over. Harry isn’t sure what it is, but his bet is something Remus asked him to read- something on psychology, probably. He doesn’t really care- he’s not sure he wants to initiate this conversation at all.
He and Sirius haven’t really… talked. It’s only been a couple of days since the end of the year, and life has been a bit hectic what with all the ‘Theo and Sirius’ moving in that’s been happening, so Harry hasn’t really had the chance to bring anything up with Sirius.
“Yes? Is, uh, everything alright?”
At least Sirius seems as unsure about things as Harry feels.
“I wanted to know,” Harry says, before he can lose his nerve, “you- er.”
This is actually a terrible idea.
Sirius puts the book down, then cocks his head. He looks concerned. “Yes?”
Harry grimaces. “Maybe- never mind.”
“No,” Sirius says, a bit quickly- then he grimaces. “I mean- you can ask me anything. I mean it, Harry- whatever you want to know, I’m- just getting to talk to you at all is… sort of one of the best things that’s happened to me in twelve years.”
Harry feels both a rush of completely unexpected warmth at the too-skinny looking man in front of him, and also a rush of guilt. He’s not going to be bringing up something especially nice here. But Merlin also made Harry promise he’d ask.
And Sirius is still looking at him, half expectant and half worried, so…
“The dementors- how did you stand it?” Sirius’s expression goes sad. But Harry isn’t done. “I mean- how does anyone stand it? For any amount of time?”
Now Sirius is looking a bit confused. “How do you mean?”
Harry shifts, a bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t like talking about this, really, but- he’s been having nightmares. Bad ones, about… well, the usual things, but especially the dementors, and the pain they caused. The worst ones are the ones he can’t remember- the ones that cause phantom pains in his scars.
“Well,” Harry says. “They make you relive the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, so-”
Sirius lets out a little choked sound, and Harry looks up from his hands, startled. Sirius is looking a bit gray, all at once.
“Sirius?” Harry asks, feeling worried.
“Harry,” Sirius says, in a curiously detached sounding voice. “The dementors make you feel pain?”
Well, now Harry is the one confused. “Yes? Don’t they-” he cuts off with a groan. “Do they not do that for everyone?”
Sirius shakes his head, eyes wide. “They just make you relive your worst memories. There’s no physical pain. You- every time, a dementor- oh god. The clearing. The quidditch game. Oh god. Every time?”
Sirius seems to be working himself up into a little bit of a frenzy. Harry doesn’t really pay that much attention- he’s too busy spiraling.
Why is it always him?
“Harry,” Sirius says, cutting into his thoughts.
Harry looks up. “What?”
“Can I hug you?”
Harry looks at him. Sirius looks back. He still looks a little gray.
This man has known Harry- actually known him, not just as a baby- for a total of four, maybe five days. Harry doesn’t really know him, either- all he knows is that Sirius ran after Pettigrew, all those years ago, leaving him to the Dursley’s for ten years, and leaving Remus to think he’d been all alone in the world. Sure, he’d also rescued Theo, and he’s here now, but… it still hurts, and Harry thinks they’re probably going to need to talk about it, at some point.
But right now… Sirius is right here, looking like the thought of Harry in any sort of pain at all is causing him an insurmountable amount of grief. And… he asked to hug him.
“Yeah,” Harry says, before wrapping his arms around his godfather. And Sirius hugs him back, sighing a little as he does.
Remus is the best at giving hugs. Harry doesn’t know if that will ever not be true.
But Harry thinks- Harry thinks Sirius is a close second.
Ron
“Here,” Percy says, thrusting a hand out to Ron.
Ron looks up from where he’d been trying and failing to read up on animagus theory. “Perce, what-”
“Just take it,” Percy says.
Ron narrows his eyes, but this is Percy and not one of the twins, so he holds a hand out and lets Percy deposit whatever it is into Ron’s hand.
Ron looks down at it, then up to Percy. He isn’t sure what to feel about this- but damn if it isn’t cute as hell.
Percy looks uncharacteristically nervous as he scratches the back of his neck. “I feel bad. I should have realized something was- anyways. I guess I thought you could use a new one.”
Ron tries resolutely to not think about Scabbers as he runs a finger lightly over the baby rat's head, and it sleepily reaches out and grabs at Ron’s finger with its tiny hands, pulling it in so that it can nuzzle its head on it. Ron blinks.
“If you don’t want it because rats have been ruined for you, I get it- but I already ran a ton of diagnostic spells on it.”
“Where did you find him?” Ron asks, looking up.
“Luna gave her to me. Just came up and handed her to me. Told me she’s been calling her Pebble, but that you should change the name if you wanted.”
Ron looks down at the rat again. She looks back up at him with inky black eyes. She’s nothing special- just a little gray rat. Although... she does seem to be tailless.
“Luna gave her to you?”
“Yeah, you know how she is. Although, she called it a ‘fizzy-spit-sprite’, or something like that.”
Well. If Luna endorses the rat, then of course Ron is going to keep her- when one grows up with Luna as a neighbor, one learns to trust first and ask questions later.
Besides, maybe the rat will help him get over the intense feeling of wanting to throw up every time he thinks about Scabbers. What was it Hermione had called it? Exposure therapy?
Ron closes his hands softly over the rat, giving Percy a small smile.
“Thanks, Perce.”
Percy relaxes. “So, are you going to call her Pebble or what?”
Ron thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah- I think I’ll call her… Chud. After the Cannons.”
Percy stares at Ron for a long moment, then shakes his head and walks off without another word.
Ron snorts, and then puts Chud down on his bedspread. She yawns, and Ron’s heart melts a little despite himself.
“Get comfy, Chuds- we have a lot of catch-up to do.”
Blaise
Blaise sighs heavily, looking up at the ceiling. Oh well. Nothing else for it.
Blaise gets up and heads down to where the Contessa is sitting. She’s in her study, going over property laws or declarations of war or some other political bullshit.
“Mamma,” Blaise starts.
The Contessa looks up from her paperwork, smiling softly. “Yes, mio passerotto?”
Blaise sighs again. “Passerotta, now, mamma.”
The Contessa’s smile widens and Blaise sighs for a third time. So much for being the first male heir to the title of Contessa.
But it’s not like Blaise is going to deny it- not now that Blaise has realized who she wants to be.
Daphne
“Welcome to the club,” Daphne says, raising an eyebrow.
Blaise snorts, and Daphne smiles- and resolutely ignores the flush she feels creeping up her neck. That is not something she needs to deal with right now.
Neville
Neville looks up from his essay as he hears the floo chime, heart racing.
His Gran pushes through the floo, not a spot of soot on her. She’s dressed in her Wizengamot best.
“Well?” Neville asks.
“Sirius Black was cleared on all accounts- and given a hefty compensation by the Ministry.”
“Yes!” Neville says, pumping his fist in the air like he’d seen Harry and Hermione both do.
His Gran gives him a bemused look. He shoots her a sheepish smile. His Gran returns it with a small smile of her own, then sits down across from him.
“It’s been a long day- how about you tell me about how some of your plants are doing?”
Neville looks at her, making sure she isn’t joking. She raises an eyebrow. Not joking, then.
“Well,” Neville says slowly, “the b-baby whomping willows are coming along nicely-”
“The baby what?”
“Oh- sorry, I guess I should have asked if it w-was okay for me t-to-”
His Gran shakes her head, smiling softly. “It’s alright, Neville. I apologize, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Neville gives her a smile.
He might be annoyed that she’s taking more interest in his passions now that he’s shown to her that he is capable of doing difficult and brave things, but- this is nice, and progress is progress.
Hermione
“Darling, what’s this?” Mum asks, holding up a thin leather-bound book.
Hermione looks up at it, clamps down hard on the panic she’s suddenly feeling, and says, “ah, nothing, mum- just some light reading.”
“Hm,” Mum says, before handing her the book back. “Well, we’re leaving for dinner soon, so be ready for that.”
“Sure thing,” Hermione says, and then gets up to do just that- even though she’s all of a sudden not very hungry. As she goes, she tucks the book on memory charms back into her bag.