Grimmauld Place seems the quietest it ever has been as Harry stares blankly at the dull ceiling above him. His eyes come down to trace the engravings on the bedpost next to him and he bites his lip in concentration.
It’s no use trying to sleep, as he’s definite that all that will greet him will be nightmares, and he simply doesn’t have the energy to deal with them again, - no matter how much he wants to just let sleep overtake him.
Feeling frustrated with himself, Harry sits up in bed before squeezing his eyes shut as he bites back a groan at the pain in his scar.
Again, really?
He’s considered mentioning it to Ron and Hermione, maybe even Sirius. Although, he’s decided the fuss just isn’t worth it. No, he’s vowed to deal with it himself. Like he’s been accustomed to doing with most things as of late.
At this, Harry tries desperately to bite down the bitterness arising in him as he thinks of his friends. Leave it to them to enjoy their summer together while Harry was forced to endure the Dursley’s. Again.
He tries his best to shut away thoughts of Petunia and Vernon, and is careful not to wake Ron as he takes his glasses from the bedside table and slips out of their shared room to make his way downstairs.
Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he makes his way to the kitchen as silently as possible. Grabbing a class from the cupboard, his eye settle on the bottle of Firewhisky on the kitchen counter. He very briefly considers pouring himself some, and then snorts to himself.
What is he thinking?
He’s never really properly drank before, other than the odd sip he’s been pressured to try at Gryffindor parties by the twins. He does know, though, that it makes people drowsy. Something he definitely doesn’t need right now. Not if he intends to stay awake through the night.
He’ll save the teenage experimentation for another time.
Instead he sits at the table and sips a glass of water slowly, beginning to wonder what on earth he’s going to do for the next four hours until someone else in the house wakes up. He considers wether it would just be easier to sleep, but another sharp pain in his scar brings him back to reality.
Never mind, then.
His eyebrows furrow as he hears another pair of feet coming down the stairs.
He listens intently, trying to work out who they belong to. Not Hermione, the steps are far too loud, and certainly not Mrs Weasley, as Harry knows for sure she always takes care not to be too loud in the early hours of the morning. Still, no one else is ever up this early to Harry’s knowledge, so he waits for the door to be pushed open.
“Sirius?” Harry’s eyes - blurry with tiredness - attempt to adjust to the low light in the kitchen. “Jesus!” Sirius exclaims. “Oh, Harry, it’s just you.” He observes with a small laugh.
“What are you doing awake?”
“Why are you awake..?” Harry retorts, eyeing Sirius as he sits down opposite him, but not before pouring himself a small glass of Firewhisky. The same bottle Harry had previously had his eye on.
“Couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”
“Yeah, me neither.” He gazes at Harry sympathetically, and Harry sort of hates it. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the concern, he’s just tired of people feeling like they have to walk on eggshells whenever they’re around him. Honestly, it pisses him off.
Sirius doesn’t ask Harry if his lack of sleep is due to his fear of nightmares. He already knows the answer, and Harry the same.
“What’s that like?” Harry asks as his gaze falls to Sirius’ glass.
“Horrible.”
“Why drink it then?” He raises his eyebrows quizzically.
“You have a lot to learn, kid!” He barks out a laugh, but Harry’s suddenly serious.
“Do you ever...” Harry bites his lip, “...feel as if you might just go crazy at any given moment?” He laughs after he says it, but they both know that his question holds some seriousness.
“What made you think to ask that?” Sirius sets his glass back down on the table in front of him.
“I don’t know, it’s just- I feel like I’m stuck in the same cycle lately. You know, I spend all day thinking about things I’d rather not think about, and then when the time finally comes for my mind to get some rest I just can’t sleep. Either because I can’t stop my mind from racing or because I just don’t really see the point.”
“See the point in what?”
“Trying to sleep if it’ll only make me feel worse in the morning.”
Sirius looks thoughtful.
“It won’t be like this forever kid, you know that don’t you?” Sirius settles on saying.
“Doesn’t feel like it...” He responds before biting his nails anxiously. Merlin he hates opening up. “I mean...everyone hates me Sirius.”
Harry’s not quite as unobservant as some people like to think he is. He knows what the whole Wizarding World thinks of him. He’s seen the headlines in the Prophet, and the way people turned their noses up at him at his trial, seen how seemingly overnight everyone’s opinion of him has shifted. Just as he’d gotten used to a world where he was loved by so many, seen as actually worth something, it’s been completely and utterly shoved back in his face. It feels like his childhood all over again, and he fucking hates it.
“Hey, that’s not true.”
“Pretty much.” He rubs his face tiredly. Merlin, he feels like might collapse.
Sirius isn’t sure what to say, he’s not exactly an expert at comforting people. Other than James, he always was quite good at knowing exactly what to say to him. Why doesn’t he know what to say to Harry?
“Look Harry, you really should sleep-“
Harry ignores him.
”You don’t know what it’s like, Sirius.” He grinds out, “For everyone to look at you like you’re...guilty of something.” His eyes begin to water but he wipes them roughly with the sleeve of his hoodie
The older man swallows.
”Don’t I?”
The look on Sirius’ face makes Harry regret his words and the knowledge that, yes Sirius does know what it’s like, hits him square in the face.
”Sirius I didn’t-“
”I know.”
He places his hand on top of Harry’s, and it takes everything in him not to pull back, still not completely used to physical affection. But this is Sirius, he reminds himself. And so he relaxes at his touch.
”I’m just exhausted.” He sighs, and before he can stop himself, “I just want them to have been proud of me.”
His voice cracks, and he attempts to wipe his eyes again, but instead Sirius pulls him up and out of his seat, and before he knows it he’s hugging him.
His face presses into his Godfather’s shirt and he continues to try and hold it together. All it takes though, is Sirius’ calloused hand through his hair to make him fall apart.
“Oh Harry they would’ve been so unbelievably proud of you.” He sounds close to tears himself as he holds on to Harry with his life.
Harry cries for the first time since Cedric’s death, and Merlin it feels amazing. He’s been holding it in for weeks, and he can practically hear Petunia’s voice in the back of his mind telling him to ‘not be so pathetic’. But he feels so safe here with Sirius, and he’s just so tired.
As Sirius continues to hold him, Harry knows that after this whole ordeal is over he’ll feel so badly embarrassed, but he can’t think about that right now.
”I know you’re hurting Harry, and Merlin knows you’re the one person who deserves a break, but I promise you that I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel okay again.” Harry refrains from telling Sirius that he’s not sure he’s ever felt okay, not truly, but he just lets Sirius talk, “I do love you Harry.”
His Godfather kisses the top of his hair softly before he rests his cheek on the top of his head, and although Harry still feels miserable he falls asleep feeling lighter than he did when he woke up yesterday morning.
For the first time in years Harry sleeps without nightmares.