trans_9 | Hearth and Home [Open]

The world had ended. Worlds, plural, had ended, and there was a war on, a war to save all of existence. It was a war Harry'd been recruited for, apparently, just when he'd finished fighting the last one.

It was quite a bit to take in, and Harry Potter wasn't exactly taking it well. It certainly helped that some of the people he knew were awake and had been saved by the talking ship, but he would have felt much better if all the people he cared about were, so he was sure they'd even been saved.

Still, in the end, there was another war to fight. Another one. He was "Chosen" twice over. How could someone have such rotten luck? How could he lose parents, be raised by people like the Dursleys, be a marked man, spend all that time fighting, and then lose his whole world? A world was not the sort of thing you lost, in general. It wasn't as if you could go out for the day, have a hole in your pocket and have the world fall out. A world was an awfully large thing to lose.

The only thing that had offset the despair shock he was currently going through was the fact that Harry Potter had found a magic room on the ship. First day there, no map and he'd found it--how was that for luck? It was clearly some sort of Room of Requirement--all you had to do was walk outside, think very hard about what you wanted on the inside, and there it was, just like that. Unlike the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, it got around the limitations on magic that existed back home for Harry and even did food.

This remarkable room could even duplicate other places perfectly. This was how Harry found himself in the Gryffindor Common Room, eating chocolate frogs, and playing wizard's chess against the board itself. The opposing pieces were floundering without a player to call the shots, and because of it, it wasn't really fun at all.

Then again, he wasn't sure if he was even allowed to have fun.

Ever again.

After all, Harry though, shouldn't he be grieving? For all the people lost? It was difficult, though, to wrap his head around the numbers, around a loss of that magnitude, and part of him didn't even want to try. As a result, he spent his day holed away in the past, pretending Ron and Hermione would come bounding in through the entrance to the Common Room any minute, and trying his best to quell that tiny voice in the back of his head that told him that what he was doing wasn't healthy at all.

Chess, anyone?

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"I don't hate my life, Sirius." In fact, he loved it almost too much to let it go. "I won't lie and say it was brilliant all the time. It wasn't. I was raised by my muggle aunt and uncle and they--"

He didn't really know how to put what he'd suffered while living with the Dursleys into words.

"--they weren't really nurturing types," he finished lamely.

"But I've got my friends. I've got my best mate Ron's family, the Weasleys. I have the Order."

What was left of it, at any rate.

He paused.

"And I had you. I have you now, I have my godfather, the person who promised to take care of me just in case something did happen to my parents. And even though you can't remember it, you did. You were there when I needed someone. You were the first person I had who was like a real parent right when I needed one the most."

He fiddled with the queen on the chessboard, getting a "My goodness! Someone's a bit too friendly, isn't he!" from the chesspiece before he hastily dropped it back on the board and pretended it never happened.

Then he looked back at Sirius.

"Even though I miss my mum and dad all the time, it still wasn't a bad life, and you weren't the one that took them away. One thing I've learned in all this is that when people do horrible things to other people, they're the ones that are at fault for those things, even if we make mistakes trying to stop them."

There was no blame in those eyes as he looked at his godfather. None whatsoever. In fact, he'd more likely find guilt there, instead.

Sirius was silent for a while, still staring at the chessboard.

"I knew you wouldn't blame me." He said slowly. "Even if you should." He held up a hand to preemptively silence Harry. "I know. I know you and maybe you're right. I'll leave it there for now." Sirius didn't think he could ever forgive himself but that wasn't something he was going to admit to his godson. That was one more worry the boy- the man- didn't need.

Sirius finally looked at him. "I die, don't I? You lost me too?"

Harry was silent for a good while.

Finally, he admitted, "I got you killed."

Sirius didn't seem too troubled at the news, only concerned with Harry. He stood and walked over to his godson, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You're not the one who did it. You're not to blame for what someone else did. Isn't that what you've been telling me?" When he said those words he sounded more like the Sirius Harry knew, more like the father figure he had been: gentle yet firm and above all loving.

"What happened?"

Did it matter if the timeline was disrupted when there was no timeline even existing anymore? Harry decided that it didn't.

"Voldemort laid a trap for me. He needed to get a copy of the prophecy about the two of us and only one of us could get it from the Ministry. He wasn't ready to show himself so he tricked me into getting it for him."

Why hadn't he worked harder at his Occlumency? Why hadn't he waited to try to contact Sirius?

He'd made peace with Sirius's death, but now, having him right in front of him again, it felt different, like he owed it to him to explain himself.

"I was supposed to have spent the year learning Occlumency, but I kept wanting to see what he was doing, so he was able to send false images to my head, that he'd captured you. I ran right into it with hardly any plan. When the Death Eaters attacked us, you came with the Order to rescue me and my friends, and you got killed by Bellatrix Lestrange."

Edited 2011-10-10 00:00 (UTC)

Bellatrix Lestrange. The Blacks really did like to keep everything in the family, didn't they?

Sirius sat down next to Harry. "You didn't know, Harry. It's not your fault. You thought you were saving me. I'm- I'm touched that you cared about me enough to try and save me from Voldemort himself."

"I knew you'd do the same for me--and you did."

He'd charged right in to fight to rescue him.

"I'm sorry."

It seemed like he just had so many things to apologize for. To Cedric, to Ginny, to his godfather. How many mistakes and difficult choices had he made during the war? How many people had gotten hurt because of him? By now, he'd lost count.

"But I'll cut a deal with you. If you don't blame yourself I won't blame myself, either."

Sirius smiled faintly. "I was about to say the same thing." He put his arm around Harry.

"I can't make any promises about the future but I'm here with you now and I plan on staying here for as long as I can."

That was how Harry had to live his life, he knew. Entirely in stolen time, in the quiet lulls in between the disasters and deaths and heart-stopping moments of terror.

He was a grown man now, and because of it, he was slightly embarrassed by his need for comfort, but in spite of it, he leaned into his godfather's embrace, resting his head against his shoulder. He took great solace in how solid and warm and most importantly, alive, he felt.

Sirius held Harry close. He could hardly believe that this man was his godson, the small baby he'd last seen bundled in Hagrid's arms. He had missed so much, so many things he should have been there for. And despite everything, Harry had grown to be a far better and stronger person than he ever could have imagined.

"I'm so proud of you."

Harry's face screwed up into an expression that might have been mistaken for one that was pained if it weren't for that fact that he was indescribably happy at the moment that his godfather was alive to even say something like that to him.

If Sirius notice he didn't comment. Maybe this was too emotional, maybe he shouldn't say everything at once but he needed to say it. He only hoped that Harry needed just as badly to hear it.

"I want you to know that you've exceeded not only my dreams for you but your parents' as well."

"I haven't even told you all I've done yet."

Way to make him cry, Sirius. Harry wasn't sobbing or anything, but he suddenly found that his eyes and cheeks were a little wet.

It wasn't really sorrow, not really. Maybe old hurt stinging a bit as it healed over. It was more elation, that rare rare thing called joy, as a single thought echoed over and over again in his head:

I have a parent again.

"I asked Cedric. He wasn't able to tell me much but what he did amazed me." Harry wasn't the only one holding back tears. "I don't know if it's possible to be any prouder but I'm sure I will be once I hear it all from you."

Harry finally managed to stop the waterworks, wiping at his face, and pulling away a little to try to regain his composure.

"He's a good bloke, Cedric. Didn't deserve what happened to him. But then no one who's crossed Voldemort ever has."

Not even Regulus. ~~Poor, stupid bastard.~~

Sirius let go of Harry to give him space. He didn't want to crowd him. This was an emotional enough moment as it was. And as rich and comforting as physical touch was now, and as much as he craved it, Sirius no longer needed it the way he had when he'd first awoken.

"He is. I'm glad he's getting a second chance along with the rest of us." Even if the reason for said second chance was terrible.

Hearth and Home [Open]

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