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Numb. That’s how Harry was feeling as he followed Sirius into their home, having just returned from Dumbledore’s office after a whirlwind of a night at the Department of Mysteries. He felt as if he were an outsider looking in on his own life as he went through the motions. Stepping through the front entrance. Pulling his shoes off and setting them by the door. Looking everywhere but at his godfather’s patiently waiting gaze, which was flooded with quiet concern. Harry continued to bustle around the room, trying to appear busier than he was. 

“Harry.” The sound of his name halted Harry in his tracks, his eyes slowly coming of their own accord to rest on his godfather’s face.

Sirius appeared slightly uncomfortable for a fleeting moment, which told Harry exactly which topic he was about to broach. 

Sirius took a deep breath. “I know you might not want to but at some point we need to talk about -- ”

“Gonna hop in the shower real quick. Talk later, yeah?” he muttered before all but fleeing from the living room and bolting up the stairs.

Though he felt a prickle of regret at brushing his godfather off, he was beginning to feel suffocated in that room. Harry was torn between never letting Sirius out of his sight again and keeping as much distance from him as humanly possible. And he couldn’t even begin to think about the contents of the prophecy he had heard less than an hour ago. Harry always knew he was a marked man, but it was something else entirely to have the headmaster of your school say it so plainly to your face.

As he pulled the door to his bedroom open and stepped inside, he felt his previous sense of emotional detachment being replaced by a familiar swell of furious despair beginning to build inside his chest, but it was directed at nobody but himself. 

He was so angry at himself. And confused. Nothing was making sense. He didn’t understand how after unlocking the front door and stumbling into the living room, his godfather could still look at him like that, with his love for Harry so evident in his gaze. How he could heal the wound on his godson’s arm, now caked with dried blood but no longer gushing, as if it was nothing. Sirius had experienced a brush with death that was far too close for comfort. For one horrible moment during the thick of the battle, Harry had believed that his godfather had died, before rushing after Bellatrix in a fit of rage so sudden that he had missed Sirius pulling his shaky and fatigued, but otherwise unscathed body upright. After successfully throwing off a mental invasion of Voldemort, Harry didn’t understand how Sirius could hold his godson’s trembling form close to his chest with physical strength that he most definitely did not have. How after pulling back from the embrace, Sirius could still take Harry by the shoulders, look him in the eyes, and tell him that he was proud of him. That he loved him. That’s not what you say to the person that almost got you killed. And what made it even worse is that Harry couldn’t even say it back. He had lost count of how many times those three little words had been sent in his direction by his godfather, but his tongue felt tied whenever he tried to utter a response. 

Deep down, Harry knew he was beginning to spiral. He knew that his thoughts were becoming more and more irrational by the second, and that his unregulated emotions were likely the effect of his exhaustion from the night’s events. But he couldn’t stop himself from falling further. 

In his mind’s eye, Harry couldn’t stop seeing Sirius’ face when he crumpled mere inches from the veil. All of his emotions flashing across his face in the time between one second and the next. The shock, the pain, the fear. Harry couldn’t recall a time when he had ever seen his godfather look so scared.  

He slid down the wall across from his bed, giving up on the prospect of a shower despite the fact that his clothes were filthy and his body was covered in scratches, dust, and dried blood. 

The sound that Sirius had made when he was struck in the chest by his cousin’s hand, kept ringing in Harry’s ears. A breathless gasp followed by a thump on the ground that had filled Harry with a surge of terror that he had never, ever felt before. Not when he fought a basilisk at age 12, not when he fought off more than a hundred dementors at once, not when he stood before Voldemort and was forced to duel. Not even when he felt the vile man force his way into his head so aggressively that Harry’s head was still pounding hours later. Harry didn’t know if he would ever shake off the fear that had come with the realization that he almost lost the only family he had left. 

And it was all. His. Fault. 

Harry pulled his knees against his chest before pressing his face against them. His trembling fingers latched onto his hair, holding the unruly strands in a vice-grip. He tried to take in long gulps of air to combat the frantic pace of his heart, now better equipped to handle his frequent bouts of intense panic than he was earlier this year. It proved rather difficult this time however, because he felt as if a stack of bricks was resting on his lungs, obstructing the flow of air in and out. 

Over the thunderous sound of his heartbeat in his ears, Harry didn’t notice his godfather knocking on his bedroom door, before pulling it open and stepping inside. He grew aware of the man’s presence when he dropped on the floor beside him, and gently pulled his godson’s hands down by the wrists before letting go. Sirius pressed his shoulder against Harry’s in a show of silent support and it was the only invitation Harry needed. 

Harry rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder, looking for a kind of comfort that he was now growing accustomed to receiving, but less confident seeking. He had nothing to worry about however, for his godfather immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer. 

“Deep breaths, kiddo.” 

“Trying.” Harry got out. “It’s hard.” 

“I know.” Sirius’s murmured response was gentle, his thumb rubbing the back of Harry’s shoulder for a moment. “Remember it will be over soon. Just keep trying to breathe through it.” 

The room was silent for a few moments as Harry continued his attempts to force air in and out of his lungs. He grounded himself in the feeling of Sirius’ presence beside him. The man was surely exhausted, but alive. He focused on the warmth of his hand, still firmly gripping Harry’s shoulder. He’s alive, Harry kept telling himself. I almost lost him but I didn’t. 

But no matter how many times Harry repeated this mantra to himself, he couldn’t close the chasm of guilt and fear that had opened up inside of him. Even when his breathing finally steadied, and his heart resumed a rhythm that was closer to normal, he couldn’t yet convince himself that Sirius was truthfully, for the time being, out of danger. He kept feeling as if his godfather was going to slip through his fingers, and vanish any second.   

A gentle squeeze on his shoulder broke Harry out of his musing. 

“Better?” Sirius asked, his voice full of concern.

Harry mustered a nod, gingerly lifting his head off of Sirius’ shoulder and pushing himself more upright. 

“Did something bring this on? Or was it just out of the blue?”

Harry figured that his godfather knew the answer to his own question, but appreciated his willingness to play dumb and not put words in his mouth. 

Harry hesitated. He and Sirius had engaged in some difficult, yet much-needed talks since the Christmas holidays, and each time got a little bit easier. However, though Harry felt like he was in a much better place than before, he still needed a few moments to find his courage before opening up. 

Sirius remained as silent as he always did, patiently waiting for an answer but not forcing the process. His arm was still stretched around Harry’s shoulder, anchoring him to the present. As it often did, the man’s unwavering silence and lack of pestering questions was what made Harry finally feel ready to speak. 

“I……I could’ve lost you.” The admission was a mere whisper, but Harry knew Sirius had heard him.

“Yes, you could have.” Sirius’ reply was so matter-of-fact that Harry’s head involuntarily shot up, his eyes widening as they locked onto his godfather’s.

“But if there’s ever a situation where it’s either me or my kid, I need you to know that I will give myself up every time without hesitation. And you are not responsible for my choice.”

My kid? 

“Harry, I need you to listen to me. You’re going to keep on hearing this from me until you’re sick of it, but I need you to know that had I lost my life tonight, there would have been a million people responsible, but not for even one second would any of them have been you.”

“But --”

“No, there’s no but.” Sirius’ tone was apologetic, yet unyielding. 

“Regardless of the circumstances, a fifteen-year-old boy is never responsible for the death of an Order member. All of us there tonight knew what we signed up for when we joined. I knew I could’ve lost my life tonight the same way I knew I could’ve lost it 15 years ago in the original Order.” 

There was a 3-second pause marked by the ticking of Sirius’ watch before Harry exploded. 

“And I’m just supposed to be okay with that answer? Don’t you care even a little bit about the fact that you almost died tonight and it was ALL MY FAULT?” Harry’s voice was rising in volume, the shelves on his wall beginning to rattle as his magic responded, but he made no effort to control himself. 

“How are you so resigned over the possibility of dying for me? I’m not worth it. I’m not worth ANY of this. I’m so sick of people dying for me and standing by and not being able to do anything about it. First it was mum and dad and then Cedric ---”

Harry’s voice broke on the last name. He was breathing as if he was in the midst of a marathon but he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of him like an angry flood that could not be tamed. 

“I”M SO TIRED OF IT. OF ALL OF IT. I’M SO SICK OF PEOPLE DECIDING WHAT’S SO-CALLED BEST FOR ME WITHOUT EVER HAVING A SAY. FIRST IT WAS BEING DUMPED ON THE DURSLEYS’ DOORSTEP FOR 11 YEARS, NOT EVEN KNOWING HOW MY PARENTS DIED. AND THEN AT HOGWARTS IT WAS JUST MORE SECRETS! IT’S LIKE I HAVE A SIGN ON MY BACK THAT SAYS ‘DON’T TELL HARRY ANYTHING!’”

Sirius’ face remained infuriatingly impassive as he sat in his spot on the floor. Harry hadn’t even realized he had lurched to his feet during his tirade but couldn’t stop himself from continuing to pace back and forth.

“I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT MY PARENTS LOOKED LIKE UNTIL MY FIRST YEAR. I HAD TO SNEAK INTO HOGSMEADE AND EAVESDROP TO FIND OUT YOU WERE MY GODFATHER. AND…..AND THE PROPHECY! I’VE BEEN DESTINED TO GO AGAINST VOLDEMORT FROM THE DAY I WAS BORN AND IT SEEMS LIKE EVERYONE KNEW ABOUT IT BEFORE I DID!”

Harry suddenly felt like his legs could not support him any longer and his knees buckled as he collapsed on his bed, all the fight going out of him at once. He no longer felt like yelling, all it did was leave him feeling hollow. To his horror he felt heat growing behind his eyelids, and prickling at their corners. He took a deep breath in, but it came out as a choked sob as his vision promptly grew blurry, the moisture pooling in his eyes finally making their escape. Once the tears started he couldn’t make them stop. They ran down his face, dampening his shirt as he began to sob so uncontrollably that his chest hurt. Harry couldn’t recall ever crying like this. He had quickly learned that tears wouldn’t get him anything more than a painful slap and a guarantee of going to bed hungry. But now, no matter how furiously he scrubbed at his face or how desperately he tried to hold his breath against the sounds of anguish that surely could not be coming from his own mouth, he could not get himself under control. He felt trapped, in a swirling pit of misery that left his entire body trembling with the force of it. 

When Sirius sat beside him, Harry all but fell onto him, just wanting his godfather to make it stop. To make it all stop. If Sirius was in any way peeved by his previous theatrics, he did not show it. When his arms drew Harry into a tight embrace, one of his hands cradling his head protectively and the other one rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, Harry felt himself beginning to cry even harder. He had lost his temper on the man even though he surely was exhausted and none of what Harry had exploded on him for was even remotely his fault. Sirius just wanted him to be safe and all he did to repay him was lash out on him. Yet here he was, cradling Harry if he was the most precious thing he had ever held, keeping him afloat at a time when he couldn’t do it himself. 

“I-I-I’m sorry,” Harry all but whimpered into his godfather’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was shaking terribly. 

“Shhhhhh.” Sirius drew out the sound. “It’s alright. It’s all going to be okay Harry. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” Harry tightened his grip on his godfather. 

 “Just let it all out”.  

And that’s what Harry did. He cried his eyes out for what felt like hours on Sirius’ increasingly soggy shoulder. The man seemed perfectly content having an armful of sobbing teenager, remaining mercifully silent. His hand never ceased it’s soothing motion on Harry’s back. 

It’s seemed like whenever Harry would start getting a handle on his emotions, something else would set him off all over again. He repeated this pattern four or five times before Sirius’ voice came again. 

“Kiddo, you’re going to make yourself sick. Can you try taking some deep breaths with me?” 

It proved challenging at first but with Sirius’ encouragement Harry gradually felt himself coming down from the onslaught of emotion, his eyes no longer leaking and his sobs tapering off. He remained pressed in Sirius’ embrace for a couple more moments before slowly pulling back. His breathing was still shaky but he felt as if the worst of his breakdown had passed. 

It took him a few beats to find his voice. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.” His voice was hoarse and Harry winced at the sound, but it had to be said. 

Sirius brushed some hair off of his forehead, a tender gesture. “It’s no matter. I’m glad you’re not holding all of that shit inside anymore, though next time I would prefer if it didn’t come exploding out of you, for both of our sakes.” He smiled at Harry, who let out a tentative chuckle.  

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop kicking myself for being so stupid all those years ago and getting myself taken away from you. If I had looked after you from the beginning like your parents trusted me to do, we could’ve avoided putting you through so much unnecessary suffering. But I’m here now, and I’m here to stay. That I promise.” 

Harry internally grimaced at Sirius’ words. He didn’t mean to imply that he was bitter at him for what had transpired in the hours after his parent’s deaths. He opened his mouth to tell him that it was okay, that he was okay, but the words would sound hollow even to his ears. Because what he had gone through wasn’t okay. And neither was he. But maybe it didn’t matter because while Sirius hadn’t been here all those years ago, he was here now. And maybe that was all that was important. Harry didn’t know how to convey all this without sounding like a blubbering idiot, so he tentatively took his godfather’s hand, his smaller fingers wrapping around the larger calloused ones and squeezing. 

Sirius squeezed back appreciatively, seemingly catching on to what his godson wanted to tell him but didn’t know how to say. He released his grip on Harry before his hands came to rest on either side of his godson’s face, his thumb wiping aside a few stray tears that remained. The warmth of Sirius’ gentle hands seeped into Harry’s skin and down into his very soul. He let out a slow exhale at the sensation, finally feeling some semblance of normal. 

“I don’t want you to ever again say that you’re not worth it, because you are the most important thing in my life by far. You will always be worth protecting and nothing will ever change that.” Sirius’ hands were still cradling Harry’s face, his tone so fierce that Harry couldn’t look away even if he tried. 

“I’m so sorry for scaring you tonight. I promise that I’ll be more careful from now on. It’s going to take more than a couple of Death Eaters to do me in. I am always going to do everything that I possibly can to come back to you. You hear me?”

Harry nodded as Sirius’ hands dropped to his shoulders. He sensed a slight shift in his godfather. It was as if tonight was a wake-up call for both of them, Harry realizing that his godfather in fact was not invincible, and Sirius witnessing the possible consequences of his reckless tendencies. 

All of a sudden, exhaustion washed over Harry. He felt bone-tired, his eyes drooping for a moment as all of the adrenaline from earlier finally left him. Sirius let out a soft chuckle before slowly standing up. 

“Why don’t you go and get washed up and ready for bed? I feel like we’ve both been up for an ungodly amount of time.”

Harry accepted Sirius’ offered hand up from the bed, stumbling towards his wardrobe and collecting some clean pajamas. He made quick use of the bathroom and shower before emerging back into his bedroom. Sirius was already waiting for him, his hair also damp from the shower as he tinkered with the fireplace. He seemed to have put new sheets on Harry’s bed as well and it made the cozy covers seem that much more appealing. Having heard Harry’s return, Sirius promptly muttered a spell to dry his godson’s sopping hair, before pointing his wand at himself, doing the same. 

Sirius pulled back Harry’s covers, gesturing at him to get under them. Harry pulled his glasses off, setting them on the bedside table before crawling into bed. Sirius pulled the covers up to Harry’s chin and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“Good night Harry, I love you.” Sirius turned to leave the room but was stopped by a firm grip around his wrist. He turned back around to face Harry, the exhaustion written all over his face but his gaze as patient as always. 

“Can you…….” Harry’s voice trailed off.

“Can I what?” Sirius inquired softly. 

Harry swallowed. He knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to ask for it. All he knew was that he had felt so very safe in Sirius’ embrace earlier and he wasn’t ready for that feeling to go away just yet. He had calmed down from his earlier outburst but when Sirius had began leaving his room for the night Harry felt his previous irrational fears gripping him. He couldn’t shake the fear that his godfather would disappear as soon as he left his sight. 

“Can you…..stay?” Harry felt embarrassed for asking, but not so much so that he took it back.

“Of course.” Sirius took a seat on the edge of his bed, taking Harry’s hand. “I’m right here.” He rubbed the back of his knuckles for a few moments before letting go. 

“No. I meant……I mean…..can you stay….with me?” Harry’s face was surely beet red but he forced himself to meet his godfather’s gaze head on, green eyes boring into gray. Sirius searched his godson’s face as Harry willed him to understand, to not make him say it out loud because what he needed was something that he didn’t think he was capable of asking for out loud. At least not yet. 

Sirius seemed to have come to some sort of decision, as he abruptly stood up and rounded the bed. 

“Budge up, would you?” His voice was gruff but his expression was warm. 

Relieved, Harry quickly scooted over and was quickly joined by his godfather who wasted no time in pulling him close. He wandlessly turned the lights off and Harry curled up, resting his head on Sirius’ chest. He let out a shuddering breath as he reveled in the sound of his godfather’s beating heart. It was thumping continuously, all of the blood rushing to the right places. He’s alive. Harry reminded himself. Alive, alive, alive. Slowly but surely, the fear that he had lost his godfather after all, ebbed away as Harry listened to Sirius’ steady breathing, his breaths now beginning to deepen as if he was approaching sleep. 

Though he loathed to disturb him when he most definitely required rest, Harry felt as if he had to tell his godfather one last thing before they fell asleep for the night, something important. Something he had been wanting to tell him for awhile, and finally felt courageous enough to utter out loud, despite the late hour. 

“Sirius?” He whispered. 

“Kiddo?”

“........”

“I love you.” Harry’s words were the faintest of murmurs in volume, but their conviction was undeniable. He felt Sirius’ heart rate pick up, felt the controlled rise and fall of the deep breath he had taken. 

There were a few moments of silence in which Harry felt himself beginning to drift off. 

“I love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.” That was the last thing Harry heard before he fell into sleep’s welcoming arms.

The two inhabitants of the house slept more soundly that night than they had in a long time. Though all was not resolved, and there were still many conversations to be had and decisions to be made, at this moment in time all that existed was the two of them, holding onto each other for comfort during the storm. And that in itself was more than enough for now. The rest would come.