Harry stared at the worn-down leather jacket draped across the back of the chair in front of him, a heavy sort of ache in his chest.
He had been doing the same thing every day for the past week. Mindlessly chewing on his bottom lip until it bled, while he was trying to make up his mind.
“I think you should wear it.”
The voice had made him jump, and his hand instantly jerked to the pocket where his wand was safely stored away. – the movement so engrained in his muscle memory that it had become a natural reflex.
It took him only a fraction of a second, however, to realise that the voice didn’t hold any threat and he began to relax, blowing a deep, drawn-out breath through his nose.
He didn’t turn around to face her, when he felt her warm hand on his back, instead leaning into her as she threaded her arms around him from behind, revelling in the way she hugged him tightly against her chest and nuzzled her nose into the hollow between his shoulder-blades.
“He left it to you.” She reinforced in-between placing tender kisses on the back of his shoulder. “I think he would want you to wear it. Just like he wanted you to drive that wretched muggle machine.”
Harry could feel his lip twitch slightly at the displeased tone in her voice. Pansy hated his godfather’s old motorcycle. She insisted that it was going to get him killed one day, but Harry disagreed. It really wasn’t that different from flying on a broomstick. …And he had always been exceptionally good at that.
And anyway, he didn’t fear death. He had seen the other side and knew that there was nothing to be scared of. Death would come at the right time and he would greet him like an old friend.
But not just yet.
And probably not on the back of Sirius’ old motorbike.
He let out a deep sigh as the ache in his chest grew stronger.
Death had been on his mind again lately. It had been a constant companion throughout his life, greedily taking the people he loved, and leaving pain and emptiness in their stead.
But that was the thing about Death, wasn’t it? It hurts only the people that are left behind, not the people it takes.
And Harry was hurting.
He never really talked about it, but he missed Sirius. And it was a different type of grief than the one he felt for his parents. As much as he loved his mother and father, he had never known them. He had no memories of them, just a small number of treasured stories, photos, and the trace of their unconditional love running through his blood and nurturing his soul.
He would always miss them, always wonder what it would have been like to have them in his life, and he knew that that would never go away.
But Sirius was different.
His father’s best friend had been in his life. He had been a beacon of hope for Harry in a world where he hadn’t felt loved or protected, …or even cared for. A real, flesh and bone man. Someone he had known, someone he had talked to, laughed with, …even argued with sometimes. (Ok, well, more than just sometimes.) But most importantly someone he had loved like a father.
Until Sirius too, turned into another person that had been taken away from him too soon.
He didn’t think he had ever allowed himself to grieve for his godfather… or anyone he had lost, really.
He had been so caught up in the war, throwing himself head first into the task he was chosen to do, unwilling to allow himself any time to process what had happened. If he had, it would have destroyed him. And he wouldn’t have been able to do what he was meant to do.
Except now it was all over.
And Harry knew he should be happy.
The war had ended, and everyone was expecting him to move on. He knew he should be relieved. He should be grateful that he didn’t have to fight anymore and allow himself to live fully and without regrets.
He had been given a second chance at the life he had been so willing to throw away, in order to protect the people he loved; and he should treasure it.
And most days he did. – Pansy had made sure of that.
Granted, when Harry had returned to Hogwarts after the war, all he had wanted was to finish his education and sit his NEWTS. He had never expected to make amends with any of his old school rivals, in particular not the girl that had so infamously tried to sacrifice him to the Dark Lord.
It wasn’t until one night, when he had wandered down to the Black Lake, drunk with sorrow and loneliness, and an unreasonable amount of Firewhisky in his bloodstream, that he stumbled upon her, - leaning against a tree and nursing a large bottle of red wine.
Harry still blamed the alcohol for his willingness to hear her out. He didn’t think that his sober self would have stayed. …But drunk Harry had.
Drunk Harry had let himself drop onto the ground next to her, surprising both of them when he initiated a conversation that wasn’t filled with resentment.
Pansy had been hesitant at first, but eventually, nudged by the ample amount of wine she had consumed, she opened up.
And so they talked.
And talked.
And for the first time in his life, Harry had stopped to consider what it had been like to grow up on the other side of the war.
He had been surprised at how difficult it had been for Pansy, how she was forced to do horrible things that deeply disturbed her. How scared she had been, and how much grief she was still carrying because of everything that had happened. – A different type of grief, and for different reasons, but grief all the same.
After that night, they had met up regularly. And slowly, tentatively, Harry began to take down his barriers, allowing the pretty Slytherin to snake her way into his heart and help him mend his soul.
She had been exactly what he had needed.
Every snide comment, every blunt truth, the sparkle in her ebony eyes when she called him out on his shit; refusing to tiptoe around him like everyone else did.
Pansy had come into his life like a rolling thunder cloud, rumbling and crashing; the harsh words shooting like lightning bolts from her tongue. No tolerance for lies and mollycoddling. Just tough love and blunt and honest truths.
She was a force to be reckoned with.
But as with any raging storm, the clouds eventually lifted and gave way to the soothing calm of a peaceful morning in spring. That feeling when the first golden rays of sunlight sneak their way through the clouds of mist; dancing across your skin and leaving warmth and comfort in their wake.
Pansy was all of that too.
It was probably what had surprised Harry the most about her. That underneath all the arrogance and sarcasm, there was a woman who was kind and gentle, a woman who loved deeply and would do anything for the people she cared for.
Harry had been one of the very few people, who had had the privilege of getting to know this side of her, …and he cherished it, cherished every deep conversation they had had, every tender moment they had shared, and every intimate thought she had been willing to relay to him.
Harry got to see Pansy’s real beauty.
And he had fallen hard.
After they had both finished school, he had asked her to move to Grimmauld Place with him, and over the course of the past year they had slowly turned it into their home. – A place where they could be at ease; where they could live and grow together and find happiness.
And Harry was happy.
He truly was.
But that didn’t mean that he was okay. Not all the time anyways.
As much as he loved this place, it held a lot of painful memories. It reminded him of the people he had lost, and made him painfully aware of the holes they had left in his heart. Holes that would stay empty for the rest of his life.
And sometimes that emptiness hurt.
“It’s yours now.”
The words were spoken softly, gently pulling him back to the present. – a present where Sirius was gone, and his girlfriend was giving him a tender squeeze, before she let go of him and walked over to the chair to pick up the old jacket.
“Yours to use, and to love.” She continued, slowly walking back to him. “…to honour.” She pushed it tenderly against his chest, gently nudging him to take it, as she looked up at him with glittering eyes. She was smiling, but the small crease between her brows told Harry that she was hurting too. He knew she hated seeing him like this.
Mustering a meek smile, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest until they were only divided by the cool leather of the jacket; and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before resting his chin on top of her head.
“Thanks, Pans.” He muttered into her hair, taking a deep breath, and allowing the sweet scent of her flowery shampoo to sooth his senses and lift some of the heaviness in his chest.
They stood like this for several long moments until Pansy pried herself reluctantly out of his arms.
“I’ll go put the kettle on.” She said, holding the jacket out to him once more.
Harry could feel a lump form at the back of this throat, as he accepted the piece of clothing from her; the smooth material feeling foreign, and yet so familiar in his hand.
“For him.” Pansy whispered, and Harry nodded, unable to speak.
She smiled sadly, running her fingers through his hair in an affectionate manner, before squeezing his arm lovingly and turning to leave.
A little while later Harry was working on the motorbike again.
He had spent weeks trying to recover what had been left of it from Andromeda’s Garden, and then months of tinkering, accompanied by a whole lot of swearing, to put it back together. There had been moments when he wanted to give up, thinking that he would never find a way to fix it; but he knew that the bike had been one of Sirius’ most prized possessions, and for that reason alone, he just didn’t have the heart to let it go.
In the end he had managed to get the old hog running again with a combination of self-taught muggle techniques, a good amount of nifty magic and a lot of help from Mr. Weasley.
It had been working for several weeks now and Harry had taken it out for a number of test drives, but there were still areas to improve upon, so he kept working on it.
It had become somewhat of a hobby to him. – Something that had an almost therapeutic effect on him, because with every time he came out here to work on the broken old piece of junk, he felt a little bit closer to his late godfather.
He let out a deep sigh, as his mind circled back to the former marauder.
Pansy was right, of course. Sirius had left Harry all his belongings for a reason. He would have wanted him to use them.
With that thought in mind, he walked over to where he had dropped Sirius’ old leather jacket earlier and pulled it on.
He could feel his throat tighten, as he let his fingers glide over the cool fabric.
It still smelled of him.
The faint scent of stale cigarette smoke, the spicy cologne and a hint of Firewhisky, each painful and comforting at the same time.
Harry stood with his eyes closed for a moment, a strange feeling in his chest as he let the memories of his godfather wash over him, before he walked back over to where the large motorcycle stood, and checked his reflection in the shiny metal frame.
He had to suppress a small chuckle as he imagined what Sirius would say if he could see him right now. He was sure his godfather would get a real kick out of knowing that his only godson had taken it upon himself to continue his legacy as the wild and carefree rider.
Smiling quietly to himself, he dropped back onto the floor, to continue where he had left off, when the door to the garage opened and Harry stuck his head out from behind the old beast, just in time to watch Pansy walk in; a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hand.
“Hey…”
He felt a twinge of regret, as he spotted the look of uncertainty in her eyes, knowing that it had been caused by his funny mood from earlier. Pansy suffered from his mood swings more than she would ever care to admit, but he could tell anyway. He had learned to pick up on the subtle signs that gave her away. – The way her eyes grew dull and unfocussed, the tiny wrinkle on her forehead, the slightly darkened smudges under her eyes and narrowed lips… she was upset.
“I brought you tea.” She placed the mug carefully onto the workbench and took a tentative step towards him, her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest.
Harry felt another rush of guilt at her protective stance, but swallowed it down quickly and flashed her a bright smile instead, hoping that demonstrating his change in mood would help improve hers too.
“Thanks.” He huffed, pushing himself up and grabbing a cloth to wipe his greasy hands, before stepping out from behind the large motorcycle.
Pansy’s eyes grew wide.
“Oh.” She breathed. “You’re wearing it!”
Harry grinned.
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned casually against the bike. “I figured you’re right. Sirius would want me to wear it. He left me all his stuff for a reason.” He shrugged. “Would be a shame not to use it.”
Warmth spread in his chest as he watched Pansy’s face light up and her eyes began to sparkle, as they roamed across his body, taking in the way the jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and tapered around his narrow waist.
“It…” she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “It looks good on you.”
His stomach flipped and he smirked, feeling very smug all of a sudden.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, a delicate blush sweeping across her cheeks. “I like it.”
“Good.” He chuckled, unable to hide his glee as he swung a leg over the motorbike and settled confidently in its seat. “You think you could get used to this sight?”
Pansy pursed her lips and took a reluctant step closer.
“Okay, fine.” She admitted. “I can see the appeal.”
Harry's grin grew wider, causing her to narrow her eyes.
“But that doesn’t mean that I agree with–“ the rest of her sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched shriek, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her up onto the motorbike, effortlessly sitting her atop the fuel tank across from him.
“Harry!” She gasped, clutching his shoulders to steady herself, but Harry only laughed, leaning forward to pull her into a heated kiss.
He didn’t know what had come over him, but all of a sudden, he felt a burning need to show her exactly how much she meant to him. A rush of excitement coursed through his veins as Pansy let out a small sigh and leaned further into the kiss, her small hands raising up to cup both of his cheeks, and he met her with equal fervour, putting every ounce of his being into it as he caressed and nibbled her soft lips.
This was his person. – The woman he wanted to build his future with.
And he could only do that if he stopped dwelling on the past, and focused more on what was right in front of him.
He didn’t even know why he had been hiding his feelings from her anyway. He knew she'd understand. She would cherish the stories he chose to share with her and help him honour the memories of the people he had loved the most.
He could see them all in front of his inner eye. - His parents, Fred, Remus and Tonks… and… Sirius.
With a renewed pang of grief, he let out a sharp gasp and pulled back, eyes squeezed shut as he leaned his forehead against hers; desperately fighting to stay afloat in the wave of sorrow that had flooded his veins and was threatening to pull him under.
But this time he forced himself not to withdraw. He stayed right where he was, leaning into Pansy’s gentle touch as he took one shaky breath after another, until the pain subsided enough for him to speak again.
“He would have loved you, you know?” he said, finally looking up to meet her gaze, her own eyes shimmering with pain and now also confusion.
“Who…”
“Sirius.” Harry explained. “He would think you’re a real catch, and he’d scold me for neglecting you like I have.”
“Oh.” She shook her head quickly. “No, Harry, you haven’t been –“
“I have.” He interrupted, a sudden rush of self-hate choking his words and making his voice sound much harsher than he had intended. “I know I have. And you deserve better.”
Pansy swallowed hard, and his heart broke as her lips began to quiver and a single tear fell from her lashes and slowly made its way across her rosy cheek and all the way down to the soft line of her jaw.
“I just hate to see you so torn up.” She sniffled, chewing on her bottom lip to suppress a quiet sob. “It hurts me to know that you’re in pain.”
“I know.” Harry said quickly, a big lump forming in the pit of his stomach. “It’s this place.” He admitted, making a vague gesture towards the garage door that led into the main part of the house. “Grimmauld Place. It.. It holds a lot of memories for me. Some of them very painful.”
Pansy nodded, and he knew she understood.
Taking both of her hands in his, he locked eyes with her, hoping to convey his sincerity as he continued to speak.
“I’m going to do better.” He promised. “I want to cherish those memories, and I can only do that if I share them with someone, and I… I want that someone to be you.”
Pansy looked at him for a long moment, her face completely unreadable as she contemplated his words, and for a fraction of a second, Harry thought he she was going to reject him; that she had had enough. - But then she finally nodded, and he let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding.
“Okay.” She agreed, the corner of her mouth curving up ever so slightly.
“Okay.” Harry huffed out, feeling so relieved that he felt the urge to laugh.
“So…” Pansy said, attempting a quizzical look, which was only slightly undermined by the dark blotches on her cheeks and the red-rimmed eyes. “You think your godfather would have liked me?”
At this, Harry truly did bark out a laugh.
“Yes!” he grinned, interlacing his fingers with hers as he leaned closer. “I think he’d have been thrilled to see that his godson has managed to catch himself a sexy firecracker like you.”
Pansy let out a derisive snort. “I hate to burst your bubble, darling, but you didn’t do much catching in the matter. It took me weeks of heavy flirting until you finally got up the courage to kiss me.”
Harry shrugged. “So? You’re mine all the same.”
Pansy rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite hide the look of amusement that swept across her face. “I am.” She finally conceded, causing Harry’s heart to do several backflips. He knew she was his of course, years of her actions had shown him this, but hearing it from her mouth would never get old.
“So, what do you say?” she continued, her voice only wobbling slightly with nerves. “How about we take this monster of a machine out for a little spin? We could go to that place by the river you were telling me about? Maybe take a blanket and a bottle of wine… and you… you could tell me about your family and Sirius if you’d like…”
Harry gaped at her for a moment, thinking that he must have had misheard.
“You… you would let me take you out for a ride?” he asked, feeling utterly perplexed.
“Only if you promise to be sensible.” Pansy squeaked, already looking like she was regretting her offer. “I mean it! No speeding or stupid tricks, and certainly none of that crazy dragon’s fire nonsense!”
Harry laughed, a loud, gleeful laugh, as he nodded. “I promise!” he agreed, swooping forward to plant a firm kiss on the witch’s cheek. “I love you, Pansy Parkinson. Did you know that?”
His heart swelled as the witch’s face lit up, a bright, gleeful shimmer in her eyes as she nodded. “I know.” She whispered, her expression warm and full of affection. “I love you too.”
~ END ~