Chapter 9
Following Severus’ departure, Sirius stood as well. His expression was tight, unreadable, but Harry noticed his hands trembling at his sides. “Sirius, I—” Harry began, his voice cracking, but Sirius cut him off.
“It’s alright, Harry,” he said, though his voice was strained and distant. He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, his eyes fixed on the doorway as if it might offer him escape. Without another word, Sirius turned sharply and headed toward his childhood bedroom, his footsteps echoing hollowly against the walls.
The moment the door shut behind Sirius, Harry’s legs gave out, and he crumpled onto the sofa. His eyes burned with unshed tears, and his chest felt impossibly tight. “Remus,” he whimpered, the name slipping out like a plea.
Remus was at his side in an instant, pulling him into a strong, steady embrace. Harry didn’t even try to hold it together. The sobs wracked his body as he buried his face in Remus’ shoulder, clinging to the man like a lifeline.
At the sound of Harry’s cries, Sirius returned almost immediately, his face pale but determined. He conjured a glass of water, kneeling beside Harry as Remus gently passed the boy into Sirius’ arms. Harry clutched tightly onto Sirius’ sleeves, his grip desperate as if afraid the man might leave again. Sirius held him close, his fingers threading gently through Harry’s hair in a soothing motion.
Thoughts swirled around in his head. Harry couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that gripped his chest, a cold, hollow ache that whispered over and over that Sirius and Remus might look at him differently now. He couldn’t help but wonder if they saw James’ face when they looked at him. If this tether with James was severed, would they care for him? What if they decided he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore? The idea of losing them—the only family he had left—made his stomach twist painfully, and for the first time, he felt utterly untethered, like the foundations of his world were crumbling beneath his feet.
The two older men exchanged uncertain glances over Harry’s trembling form. Neither knew quite what to do, but they both knew they couldn’t abandon him now.
When Harry’s sobs finally began to subside, he pulled back slightly, his face flushed and streaked with tears. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s alright, Harry,” Sirius said gently, echoing the words he’d spoken earlier, though this time they carried the warmth of genuine reassurance.
Remus handed Harry the glass of water, which he accepted with trembling hands, gulping it down in a few hurried swallows. “Are you okay?” Remus asked softly.
“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, his voice cracking under the weight of the emotions he couldn’t fully express.
Sirius furrowed his brow, tilting his head to look Harry in the eye. “Why are you apologizing, Prongslet?” he asked, using the nickname with a soft tone.
At the mention of the nickname, Harry’s tears returned, streaming silently down his cheeks. He shut his eyes tightly, his throat thick with guilt. “Because what Dad did to you, to Snape—it’s unforgivable. I feel like… like I don’t even know. I’m sorry.” His voice was shaking, his words tumbling out in a rush.
Sirius’ heart clenched painfully at the boy’s raw anguish. “Harry,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Open your eyes.”
Harry hesitated, afraid of what he might see—anger, disappointment, rejection. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open and was surprised to find not fury but deep sadness and concern etched into Sirius and Remus’ faces.
“You do not apologize for something someone did before you were born,” Sirius said, his tone firm but kind. “It doesn’t matter if he was your father; those were his choices, not yours. You are not responsible for them.”
Harry let out a shaky breath, the knot in his chest loosening slightly. Tears of relief slipped down his cheeks as he whispered, “Really? You don’t hate me? Do you… do you hate Dad?”
Sirius sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Harry, listen to me,” he began, his voice laden with weariness. “There’s a lot I don’t know right now. I don’t know how to process what we just saw. I don’t know how to feel about James. But what I do know is that I love you. I care for you deeply. Nothing changes that. You are still my godson, and you still have a place in this home.”
Harry’s lip trembled, and he turned to Remus. “Remus?” he asked tentatively, his voice still small and uncertain.
Remus gave him a reassuring smile. “Harry,” he said gently, “I’d like to think that in these past few years, you and I have developed a relationship beyond just you being James’ son. What James did or didn’t do has no bearing on how I feel about you. You’re family, and that doesn’t change.”
Harry’s face crumpled again, but this time it was relief that spilled over as he pulled both men into a tight embrace. They held him close, the three of them taking solace in the unspoken bond they shared.
After a long moment, Remus pulled back slightly, his expression growing more serious. “That said, Harry,” he began, his tone calm but firm, “I do think you owe Severus an apology.”
Harry’s relief faltered, replaced by a flicker of guilt. He nodded slowly, unable to argue.
“We can talk about that later,” Sirius interjected, his hand still resting on Harry’s shoulder. “For now, Remus and I need to have a conversation.”
Harry gave them a small, grateful smile, hugging Sirius one last time before disappearing into his room.
As soon as Harry was out of earshot, Sirius sagged back into the sofa, dragging a hand over his face. “Pads,” Remus began hesitantly, his voice heavy with guilt, “I’m so sorry—”
“It has to be fake right?” Sirius interrupted, his voice rising as his hand fell away to reveal wide, frantic eyes. “It can’t possibly be true, Moony.”
“What?” Remus asked, taken aback.
“It can’t be real. It’s obviously not. I mean, do you remember me and Snape dating? That’s fucking insane.” Sirius argued, hand thrown up in wild gestures.
“Pads, maybe James took away my memories too. But it was real. I thought you’d be relieved. It wasn’t your fault!” Remus replied. Sirius stood up and began pacing around the room, a habit he had developed as a child.
“See no, Moony. That doesn’t matter because Snape was attacked either way. If I had done it, it was me being an asshole to the guy I thought I hated. If James did it, he sabotaged my relationship, tried to kill my boyfriend, destroyed our memories of each other, nearly ruined our friendship, Remus, and fucking blamed me.” His gestures became wilder, his voice nearly a shout.
“Sirius,” Remus stepped in front of his friend, stopping Sirius’ pacing. Remus placed his hands on Sirius' shoulder and Sirius looked up to meet his gaze. “Sirius,” he said again. “James did it. I’m sorry I blamed you, that I pulled away from you that year. I’m so sorry, because it wasn’t your fault.”
Sirius’ shoulders sagged as the weight of years of misplaced guilt gave way to the crushing betrayal of James’ actions. He sank onto the sofa, his head in his hands. “James did it,” he whispered, the words trembling with disbelief and pain. “How? Why?”
Remus sat beside him, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why, Pads. I don’t know how.”