Episode 15
Sirius
The familiar walls of his youth surrounded Sirius. How had he gone from this place to the Order, then to prison, and now back here again? Deep down, he knew this was where he truly belonged. The feeling was even stronger now with Harry here. That relationship needed mending—how, he didn’t know, but he was determined to fix it, even if it killed him.
The smell of bacon finally coaxed him out of bed. Sirius had healed faster than expected. With a groan, he sat up and shuffled to the dresser. When he opened it, he found his old clothes. Why had they saved these? He pulled out a pair of jeans; though he’d gotten older, his size hadn’t changed much. The only real difference was that his arms and core were stronger, a result of countless workouts in prison—he couldn't sit still when locked up.
As he reached for a t-shirt, he smirked. How many times had Tom scolded him for wandering around shirtless? Sirius pulled out one of his self-cut, cropped t-shirts emblazoned with the Death Eaters' logo. He threw it on, tied his hair up in a messy bun, slipped into his boots, and headed downstairs.
The kitchen was lively. Harry sat next to Reggie, resting his head on his shoulder. Draco was perched on Fen’s lap, feeding him fruit, while Severus glared at the two older men. Lucius was engrossed in the newspaper. But the person Sirius wanted to see was sitting at the head of the table, eyes focused on a book. He needed Tom to look at him.
“Good morning!” Sirius greeted. All eyes turned to him. Harry raised an eyebrow, Reggie snorted into his coffee, and Severus shifted his glare. From the head of the table came a classic spit-take—Tom sat there, coffee dripping from his chin. Sirius grinned; he still had it.
“Oh no, you okay, Tom? Here, let me get you something to clean up with.” Sirius moved toward him.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Harry asked, sitting up before Reggie quickly pulled him back. Reggie whispered something in Harry’s ear, and wide green eyes met Sirius with a smirk.
“I’ve told you about those shirts, Brat. I know it’s been a while, but—”
“You said I couldn’t walk around shirtless, so this was the alternative,” Sirius interrupted. “Besides, I don’t have any clothes left; this was all I had.”
Tom wiped his face, clearly flustered. “It’s not like there aren’t a dozen guys you could borrow from. Find something else to wear. Sev, Fen, we have work to do!” Sirius watched Tom storm out of the room, not before Fen and Reggie kissed their partners goodbye. If only Tom had kissed him before he left. He was walking funny—the shirt was a success.
Tom
After the meeting with Fen and Severus, Tom retreated to his office. He lit the cigarette dangling from his lips, his mind preoccupied. Sirius—the brat—had to come down wearing that damn shirt. When had he gotten abs?
Tom took another drag. He couldn’t think about Sirius, about how much he wanted to pull him over his lap. There were more pressing matters; he knew a war was brewing. Dumbledore had to be planning something. If Sirius was alive, the old man would guess where he’d run—and Harry wouldn’t stay hidden forever.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. The door swung open, revealing Sirius, arms crossed, shirt riding up slightly.
“You left pretty quickly, Tom. Is something going on?” Sirius asked.
Tom’s eyes raked over him, and he took another puff. “I know something’s coming. They’re looking for you. Why you ever joined the Order—”
“You wonder why I left? You don’t know why I walked away after that night I confessed to you?” Sirius cut him off, stepping closer. “You kissed me, Tom! It was the best kiss I’ve ever had, and you hid your feelings from me. Then the next day, you acted like nothing happened.”
Tom snuffed out his cigarette, slowly standing. “So instead of talking to me, you ran. For years, I wondered if you were okay. If you were even alive. You hurt your brother, and you hurt me.” Tom’s voice broke slightly. Sirius moved to speak, but Tom silenced him with a desperate kiss.
“You’re never leaving again,” Tom murmured against his lips. “If you try, I’ll keep you tied up.”
Sirius groaned, pushing him away but not far. Tom gazed at Sirius’ kiss-swollen lips and fought the urge to kiss him again.
“I’m not selfish. You were the one who said you didn’t want this,” Sirius muttered, gesturing between them.
“I lied. I wanted you,” Tom admitted, stepping closer. “Now stop being a brat and kiss me.” He leaned in, giving Sirius time to pull away, but Sirius didn’t.
“You’re going to make this up to me, Daddy,” Sirius whispered.
Tom groaned. “I think it’s the other way around. You know I hate when you call me that.”
Sirius rocked his hips forward. “I can feel that you do.” Before Tom could respond, the door burst open, and Theo’s panicked face appeared. “There’s been an attack.”
“Where’s Harry?” Sirius demanded.
Harry
“I still can’t believe Sirius and Prez,” Harry said, leaning into Reggie as they walked out of the garage. They tried to eat lunch together most days. “The tension between them could be cut with a knife.”
“It’s always been like that.”
“Oi, look, Nev! It's Harry?” The voice made Harry freeze. Ron Weasley. His supposed best friend turned tormentor. Neville, who stood beside Ron, looked uncomfortable. Harry knew he hated Ron; he’d always been kind to Harry, unlike the others. Of course, they’d find him now, just when he was happy.
“I don’t know who you are, but you need to leave,” Reggie warned, pulling away from Harry and drawing his blade in one swift motion.
Ron sneered. “You don’t want to do that. Hurt me, and there’ll be more coming for you. Harry, just come home. Dumbledore’s making our lives hell, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.” To Harry’s shock, Ron pulled out a gun.
“Ron!” Neville gasped. “Mate, put that away. Harry, why don’t you just come with us? We can sort this out.”
“I’m not going back, Neville. Ever.”
Ron’s laugh was harsh. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? Harry this, Harry that. Poor, abused Harry. Perfect Harry. Well, I’m sick of it! You’re needed back at the Order, like always.” He raised the gun, his face reddening with anger.
Before Harry could react, there was a sudden scuffle. Neville lunged at Ron, and the gun fired three times. Harry rushed forward as Neville slumped over Ron, who was unmoving.
“Neville!” Harry shouted, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay?”
Neville’s words were slurred. “I...I’m fine.” Blood was soaking his side.
“Reggie, call Severus! We need a car!” Harry yelled, applying pressure to the wound. Reggie sprinted back to the garage as others rushed out, alarmed by the shots.
“Hang in there, Neville. Why did you do that?” Harry asked, trying to keep him conscious.
“They treated you like crap, Harry, just like my family did to me. You don’t deserve that.”
“Shh, it’s okay. We’ll get you help.” Harry’s voice shook as he noticed Neville’s pallor.
“Did I...kill him?” Neville whispered, his eyes fluttering.
Harry nodded, though he didn’t need to check. Fen was already dragging Ron’s body away.
Reggie knelt beside Harry. “Severus is on his way. Hold on, man. Anything I can do, Nurse?”
“Keep talking to him,” Harry instructed, carefully turning Neville. The bullet had gone through, thankfully missing vital organs.
Severus arrived within minutes, and they rushed Neville to the clinic. It was chaos. Neville should’ve been in a hospital, but with a gunshot wound, that wasn’t an option. After determining the wound was clean, they stitched him up and administered blood. Neville had been unconscious since the car ride, but Harry knew he’d pull through.
Later, Harry stood under the shower, scrubbing away the blood and grime. He needed a moment to think. This would spark a war. Ron’s absence would be noticed, and Harry couldn’t help feeling responsible.
As if sensing his turmoil, Reggie slipped into the shower behind him, wrapping Harry in his arms. “It’s not your fault,” Reggie whispered, kissing his neck. “None of this is on you.”
Harry leaned back into Reggie’s embrace, feeling the weight of guilt, but Reggie’s words offered some comfort.
“I know you don’t believe me, but Neville will be okay. Ron would’ve killed you. I can’t lose you, Harry.” Reggie’s voice wavered slightly, and Harry turned, clinging to him as tears streamed down his face.
Once the water ran cold, Reggie gently led Harry out, drying him off and brushing his hair. He tucked Harry into bed, wrapping him in his arms, refusing to let him go.