Harry hadn't realised how much he'd come to value the freedom of the summer until it was taken away from him. Grimmauld Place might not be a cage in the same way Privet Drive had been, but it was a cage nonetheless — if anything, this was worse, because he was expected to be happy about it. Be glad he'd been rescued and brought to a place where he could have information dangled in front of him but be denied it, where his desires were utterly steamrolled over in favour of what someone else thought was best for him.
Sure, those who were expecting him to be pleased didn't know the safe haven they'd torn Harry from, but it was grating all the same.
At least he had some friends around who were sympathetic.
And he had Sirius back properly. That was nice, too.
Harry was just sick of being pushed into spending time with Ron and Hermione, especially since the pair seemed to have realised that Harry was no longer magically inclined towards their company. They didn't really want to hang out with him either, though Hermione continued to make a good effort. Everyone seemed certain that his abrasiveness was just from the trauma he'd been through in the last few months, and he'd be back to his usual cheerful self by the time school went back.
It was a shame they didn't seem to realise that he was perfectly cheerful around certain people.
For example, he was content in the library with Fred, George and Ginny, under the supervision of Bill while they looked through the Black library for anything dangerous. "I don't know why this is our job," Ginny mused as she pulled a huge stack of books from the shelf, depositing them at the table in front of Bill. The curse-breaker was checking each book for unsavoury magic, and was supposed to be checking the contents too for anything dark or alarming, disposing of books he thought would be deemed inappropriate.. Really he was just splitting them into two piles — one to remain in the library there, and the other to be smuggled out through Remus to Seren Du. Not that Bill knew where they would end up, just that Remus would take them somewhere safe. "Mum thought Hermione might be too tempted to read if she did it," Fred supplied, levitating books back onto the shelf once Bill was finished with them.
"Because we four are of course, utterly allergic to the very concept of reading," George continued dryly. "Oi, Harry, can I borrow this one?" He held up a book from the 'sneak out' pile, on the potions use of contraband creature products. Harry snorted.
"If you can keep it hidden from your mum, sure," he agreed. George winked at him, shrinking the book down and pocketing it. Both twins already had a small collection of books in their pockets that they had promised to look after, and Bill had a stack of his own, too. Harry didn't mind; as long as the books were kept out of the hands of Dumbledore and his ilk, he was happy for his friends to raid the library as much as they wanted. He also got a vindictive sort of glee when he thought of how disappointed Hermione would be with only the 'appropriate' remains of the vast collection.
Of course, she'd had access to the library for the whole summer before he'd showed up, so perhaps she'd already had her fill.
He snorted to himself; as if that were possible, with Hermione Granger.
The five of them continued their work quite happily, up until the point Sirius knocked on the door, calling them down for lunch. Ron and Hermione were already in the kitchen when they arrived — they had been paired with Remus to try and clear out one of the upstairs drawing rooms, and didn't look nearly as happy about the assignment as the library crew.
Harry ignored the perpetually-empty seat at Ron's side, heading down the other end of the table to sit between Ginny and Bill. Mrs Weasley clucked her tongue at the space between Harry and the other two-thirds of the 'golden trio' — then something in her gaze softened, and she smiled.
"I'm glad this summer is giving you and Ginny plenty of time together, Harry dear, but be careful you don't neglect your friends," she said, giving Harry a conspiratorial wink, while he stared at her in utter confusion. Beside him, Ginny groaned quietly.
"Mum, I've told you a thousand times, it's not like that," she insisted. Mrs Weasley chuckled, patting her daughter's head as she set plates down in front of them.
"I'm just saying; a first romance is exciting, and I know what it's like to want to spend all your time with them, but friendships are important too."
Harry, who had just taken a sip of water, choked. "I'm sorry, what??" Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sirius bite his lip to stop himself laughing, while Remus sighed in exasperation.
"I told you," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Mum reads Witch Weekly, but not the Quibbler."
Harry blinked. "Mrs Weasley, Ginny and I aren't dating," he said. That only made her smile wider.
"You don't need to keep secrets from me, dear — Arthur and I are delighted. As long as you take good care of our little girl," she added with a giggle. Ginny blushed as red as her hair.
"No, seriously, we're not, I— have you thought that all summer?" Incredulity crept into his voice. "Surely someone showed you the Quibbler article?"
Mrs Weasley's lips pursed. "Oh, that silly little rag has always been full of nonsense. Really, I'm amazed old Xeno Lovegood gets enough money to keep it in print!" She waved him off, starting the dishes washing in the sink.
Harry grimaced — so she had seen the article, then. She just refused to believe it. "I mean, I don't know enough to comment on the rest of the stuff in the Quibbler," he admitted — sure, a lot of it seemed like nonsense, but Harry wasn't so arrogant as to assume anything he didn't understand was made-up — "but I wrote that article myself. I asked Luna's dad to print it. Ginny and I aren't dating; I'm gay."
Water sloshed over the edge of the sink as Mrs Weasley abruptly dropped a saucepan. "Really, Harry — you should be more careful about what you allow the media to say about you, even if it is in a small magazine like that. Whatever you think you might be feeling, it's rather hasty to go and spread something like that about everywhere; you're only fourteen, after all."
Harry stiffened. Across the table, he saw both twins grimace. A stilted silence filled the kitchen.
"So I know my own mind when you think I'm going out with your daughter, but when I say I'm gay it's hasty?" Harry was slowly beginning to realise why he was almost always paired with Ginny to do chores around Grimmauld. Anger bubbled in his belly.
"Mum, come on, not this again," Bill started, sighing.
"If you aren't with Ginny, that's perfectly fine, Harry," Mrs Weasley said, ignoring her eldest son. "Though the two of you would make a wonderful couple. But there's no need to go saying things you can't take back."
"I'm not likely to take it back," Harry retorted sharply. He wished he could say something about Draco — something to make Mrs Weasley realise he wasn't just confused, or whatever else she'd convinced herself was going on in his head. Then again, he doubted even his relationship with another boy would change her mind on that; it didn't seem to have done any good for George or Charlie, from what he'd heard.
"I think he knows his own mind, Molly," Sirius piped up, the barest hint of a growl in his voice. Mrs Weasley huffed.
"Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?" she muttered derisively. Harry clenched his hands under the table, trying to rein in his magic before it made the plates shatter.
"I'm going to eat in my room," he declared, getting to his feet. He glanced over to the twins and Ginny. "I'll meet you back in the library in half an hour."
"Harry, really, there's no need—" Mrs Weasley tried, but he ignored her, picking up his plate and striding to the door. Before he could even leave, he heard her sigh. "He'll come around, Ginny darling, don't you worry," she said softly, though in the utter silence of the kitchen it carried just fine.
"I don't fancy Harry, Mum!" Ginny protested angrily. "I wouldn't want to date him even if he was straight, which he's not."
Harry didn't stick around for anything else Ginny might have said — as glad as he was that she was sticking up for him, he was too tired to sit and listen to Mrs Weasley try and talk him out of his own sexuality. A knot formed in his chest; why did she have such a problem with it? Not just for Harry, but for her sons, too? Was it truly just about wanting them to have children?
He shook his head, bumping his bedroom door open with his hip. It didn't really matter anymore; long gone were the days where he hoped for Molly Weasley's approval.
God, he couldn't wait for school to start.
.-.-.
After that fateful afternoon in the kitchen, Mrs Weasley had stayed conspicuously silent, though the approving smiles she gave Harry and Ginny every time they so much as looked at each other were beginning to grate. While Harry wasn't one to involve himself in other peoples' relationships, part of him hoped Ginny would soon agree to get together with Neville, just so he didn't have to deal with being shoved her way every five minutes.
On top of her stubborn insistence on Harry and Ginny making a wonderful couple, Mrs Weasley seemed utterly oblivious to the tension between Ron and Hermione and the rest of the household. It was at the point where Harry was beginning to wonder if she was under some sort of Confundus charm — only for Remus to assure him that Snape had discreetly checked every member of the Order, and sadly her actions were entirely her own.
The confirmation that Mrs Weasley had been taking money from his vaults of her own volition hardened something within Harry — he no longer felt bad about snapping at her when she got too overbearing.
He kept to himself the best he could, each day making him miss Seren Du more and more. He couldn't even be distracted with the Order meetings happening regularly; they took great care to keep him very firmly away from any Order business, though Sirius and Remus would tell him anything he needed to know. From the sounds of things, Dumbledore's elite group were fairly stalled in their plans to deal with the rise of Voldemort and his followers.
Harry wondered if Dumbledore might ever tell them about horcruxes. He didn't have any doubt that the man knew about them — though he clearly hadn't had any idea about the one residing under his very nose, in the locket.
Harry was relieved when Bill pulled him aside one afternoon, when anyone who might be suspicious of such things was distracted elsewhere. "I wanted to try something. Do you mind…?" He held up his wand, gesturing with his free hand towards Harry's scar.
"Go for it," Harry assented, bracing himself while Bill cast something in a language Harry didn't recognise. There was a strange tugging sensation, both over his scar and around the centre of his chest, and Bill looked relieved. "What was that for?"
"One of the other curse-breakers working on this was wondering if the continued exposure to the horcrux from such a young age might have a sort-of blending effect on the host soul," Bill explained. "She thought since your magic was growing kind of around the soul fragment, it might assimilate it in a way that makes them almost indistinguishable." The alarm must have shown on Harry's face, as Bill quickly continued. "The spell I just did confirmed that they're two separate, distinct entities. They can be separated," he assured. Harry visibly slumped in relief. "We don't know how yet, but we'll figure it out."
Bill spoke with such confidence, Harry couldn't help but believe him. "And the locket?"
"Destroyed," Bill confirmed.
"Thank fuck," Harry muttered, though trepidation gathered in his chest. "Though, Bill, I was thinking about something the other day — how much do you know about what happened with Ginny in her first year? With the Chamber of Secrets?"
He'd been toying with the idea ever since they'd discovered the locket and realised his scar wasn't the only horcrux. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense.
Bill frowned. "Something about you killing a basilisk? I'll be honest, Mum and Dad didn't tell us much." Harry had expected that. He gave Bill a quick run-down of the events; focusing more on the odd behaviour of Tom Riddle's diary, and less on the whole basilisk situation. Even so, by the end of the story Bill was wide-eyed and a little green behind his freckles. "Bloody hell, kid."'
"Yeah, there's a reason Dumbledore swept that one under the rug." The Prophet would've had a field day with the knowledge that the headmaster had let a basilisk roam the school for a year. "Anyway, I think— I think the diary was another horcrux."
Bill's face grew grave. "From the sounds of it, I think you might be right." He quirked an eyebrow. "Don't suppose you have access to the diary now, so I can run tests on it?"
Harry shook his head — that would've been helpful, but considering he used the diary to help free Dobby, he couldn't regret giving it back.
"Thought as much. Ah, well — I'll get the team looking into it. I don't know if there's any way to find horcruxes — especially not a way that won't let old Snake-Face know we're onto him — but at the very least we can start brainstorming for others he might have. He can't have made too many more; the soul would be too unstable for him to resurrect himself after more than about eight or nine splittings."
Harry's stomach lurched at the idea of so many horcruxes existing in the world. "I hope it's not that many."
Bill grimaced, nodding in agreement. "You and me both, mate." He ran a hand through his hair, which was loose for once. "Well, if that Potter luck holds, maybe you'll stumble across a couple more on your adventures," he remarked wryly. Harry snorted.
"You never know." He wasn't sure just how far the Potter luck would extend. "At least that's two of them out of the way, for sure." Hopefully, soon, they could add the third to the list. "Are… have you figured anything else out, with my scar?"
The redhead looked apologetic, which was an answer in itself. "We're working on it. I promise you, we'll figure something out. Gorrak's got Gringotts' best and brightest on the case — and me," he added, smiling bashfully. Harry elbowed him in the side, rolling his eyes.
"Gorrak told me you're one of the best they've got, don't get humble on me now," he teased. Bill nudged Harry away, blushing.
"Either way, we'll get it sorted. You just focus on the three hundred other things you seem to have going on in your life," he teased.
Considering Bill was only privy to about half of Harry's secret plans, that felt like an understatement. The curse-breaker ruffled Harry's hair, signalling an end to the conversation, and they stepped out of the room they'd holed up in — opening the door directly in Tonks' face. She stumbled to a halt, looking between the pair with raised eyebrows. "Something I should know about, you two?" she asked, innuendo heavy in her voice. Harry blushed brightly. Bill, on the other hand, just laughed.
"As if I wouldn't be taking the opportunity to piss Mum off with that, if it were the case," he teased, hand resting on Harry's shoulder. "Besides, Tonks, you already know where my interest lies."
"Ah, yes," Tonks drawled, looking devious. "Pretty veela intern girl."
Harry's eyes went wide. "Intern girl?" He whipped around, looking up at Bill. "Is Fleur interning at Gringotts?" He couldn't think of another veela girl they might have been talking about, not after the way Bill had behaved at the third task. And Harry knew from his last letter from Fleur that she'd been looking into Gringotts jobs in England, though he'd been moved to Grimmauld before she could tell him any more.
"Shit, I forgot you two were friends," Bill muttered, cheeks going pink. Tonks lit up.
"Harry, you know the girl Bill fancies?" she asked excitedly. Harry grinned.
"She was the Beauxbatons champion. She's great." He glanced to Bill. "I'd ask her out sharpish if I were you. She's not impressed by a man who waits around." She would say yes, Harry was sure of it.
Bill's blush brightened, while Tonks cackled. "That's you told, Weasley," she teased. "Now, off with you; I need to talk to Harry here."
Bill's embarrassment faded in the wake of concern, but Harry discreetly shook off his worry. He wasn't sure what Tonks wanted, but he doubted she'd do anything to him with half the Order around. Sirius said his cousin was one of the good ones.
"We'll catch up with you in a bit," Harry assured the eldest Weasley, and followed Tonks through to the small parlour nearby. He kept his hand ready to draw his wand from its holster, especially when she privacy-warded the door. She turned to face him, and her eyes darted to the movement — then immediately turned sad.
"I'm on your side," she blurted. "I mean— I wanted to say sorry, for how I acted when we came to pick you up from your relatives' house."
Harry tensed, eyeing her suspiciously. "Why, because you feel bad for taking this long to figure it out?" he asked, somewhat harshly. "No, because I knew from the start and I was trying to see if Mad-Eye would say anything," came the reply. Tonks sighed, her hair shifting from pink to a deep purple. "Well, I didn't know the specifics. I don't think any of us did. But… Sirius is my cousin. I knew right from the get go that things weren't right with him and Dumbledore. I talked to him about it, the few times it was just the two of us in the house. He told me he was worried about you, that he knew the muggles didn't treat you right — and he knew Dumbledore knew that, and kept sending you back there anyway."
Trying to keep his face impassive, Harry was internally wide-eyed at the onslaught of information. That was not what he'd expected — why hadn't Sirius warned him he'd spoken to Tonks??
"So you're not Dumbledore's biggest fan either, then?" he surmised, wondering exactly what he could get away with saying. Tonks snorted derisively.
"Not hardly. Old man always did put his nose more places than it was ever wanted," she retorted. "I'm here because Kingsley's here. And Kingsley's here because he wants Voldemort gone, and he knows that's more likely to happen with Dumbledore than the Ministry." She paused. "Sirius told me you're the Black heir," she admitted. "That makes you family. And if you've learned anything yet about being a Black, it's that family comes first." The smile she shot him was vicious, and Harry grinned back.
"He mentioned he'd talked to your mother. He didn't tell me he'd told you." It was exhausting, trying to keep track of who knew which secrets. Harry would write it down if he wasn't so worried about the information getting into the wrong hands.
"Most people think that because Mum was disinherited, I don't give a toss about all that pureblood Wizengamot stuff," Tonks drawled. "It makes me a good target for people like Dumbledore to try and sway over to their side. As far as the Order's concerned, I think all purebloods can go hang. Now I'm not trying to barge my way in to whatever secrets you've got going on; I just wanted to let you know that you've got an ally in me, for whatever you need. Kingsley, too, even if it doesn't seem like it," she added, correctly interpreting the look on Harry's face. Harry hadn't spent much time with the older auror, but from the little he had seen, the man seemed very… by the book. "He's head of the Shacklebolt family. He's been dealing with Dumbledore on the Wizengamot for years now, he knows how the headmaster works. And he knows how the Ministry works. But while he was technically a Ravenclaw, he's always had a solid Slytherin side to him."
Tonks grinned, and Harry grinned back.
"That's good to know." He wouldn't let them in on what he was really doing, not until he knew how much he could trust them. But it was definitely nice to know there were two more Order members who weren't mindless Dumbledore puppets.
It would make it much easier to steal them over to his side, once he was ready.
.-.
Bill and Tonks both stayed for dinner, and Harry was amused by the way both of them eyed each other suspiciously, glancing back to Harry as if they could somehow intuit what the other had needed to talk to him about. Harry ignored the whole thing, chatting with Remus instead. At least until Bill cleared his throat.
"I got a letter today, Mum. With some news you'll be pleased about," he said, barely stifling a smile. Mrs Weasley eyed him curiously. Bill's smile widened. "Charlie got a job as a senior handler at the reserve in North Wales. He'll be home by the weekend. For good."
All the redheads in the room made exclamations of surprise and joy, Mrs Weasley even shedding a few tears in delight. "Oh, Arthur! Our boy's coming home!"
Mr Weasley took her hand and kissed the back of it, beaming. "That's brilliant news, Bill," he said.
"I'll get one of the rooms upstairs cleared out for him," Mrs Weasley started, but Bill shook his head.
"Oh, don't worry; I offered him my spare room for when he's not at the reserve," he assured. Mrs Weasley made a quiet sound of protest, and Bill grinned at her. "No offence, Mum, but no one wants to move back in with their parents after they've lived by themselves for five years." His voice was playful, and Mr Weasley pecked his wife on the cheek.
"Let the boys have their space, love. I'm sure Charlie will be over for dinner plenty. And Order meetings," he reminded. That seemed to placate the matriarch — or at least, her excitement overshadowed it all.
While the twins quietly wondered if they could get Charlie to bring them home dragon scales for experimenting on, Harry smiled into his shepherd's pie. With Bill and Charlie both back in the UK, that meant they would soon be ready to take up their Wizengamot seats.
His plans were all beginning to line up. He couldn't wait to see how things would play out.
.-.-.
The next morning, Harry woke with a sharp gasp, empty grey eyes the only thing he could see. He cursed softly, clenching his hands in his duvet — his brain had somehow melded his guilt about both Cedric and Dudley, until his dream became watching Cedric get his soul taken by a dementor in the middle of that graveyard.
Harry could still feel the cold.
He took a shower in an attempt to warm up, glad it was still too early for most people to be awake, and desperately wishing he was still at Seren Du. There, nightmares were greeted with a sympathetic hug from Remus, a cup of tea from Ceri, and then at least an hour of forcing his brain into more productive pursuits by duelling with Snape.
Harry couldn't believe how much he actually missed the Potions Master.
Nightmares in Grimmauld Place were an entirely different kettle of fish; Harry had wiped all traces of it from his face by the time he went down to breakfast, not wanting either Mrs Weasley or Hermione to begin the concerned questioning, as if he were one wrong word away from another shouting match.
They might not have been far off with that assessment, but the nightmares wouldn't be the thing to trigger it. He was just so tired. After weeks of being free to process his grief, Remus and Snape and even Sirius giving him the space and comfort to do so on his own terms, having to lock it up tight — or worse, perform his grief for the satisfaction of others — was beginning to gnaw at him, constantly, making his skin itch and his stomach churn. It wouldn't be so bad if he could sneak off for a quick cuddle with either of his godfathers, but there was hardly a moment of privacy in Grimmauld. It was somehow worse than the Burrow the summer before; despite being a much bigger house, everyone seemed to congregate in the same five rooms, and Harry wasn't quite brave enough to go exploring in the rooms that hadn't been fully cleaned and cleared of dark magic. Hiding in his room only got him so far — Ron and Hermione had figured out where it was after the first week. With school drawing ever closer, they seemed to have decided it was time to bring Harry back into the fold — or someone had instructed them to, perhaps. Either way, it meant the pair were constantly hounding him for attention now, Ron pestering him to play chess or exploding snap, while Hermione asked incessantly about his summer homework.
He got lucky, through breakfast. Ron was busy stuffing his face, and Hermione seemed too tired to begin the Harry Inquisition. He was able to keep his head down and eat his breakfast — and ignore the concerned glances Sirius sent his way. Remus had gone, no doubt back to Seren Du for the day. Part of Harry hated him for being able to travel so freely.
Since Hermione was under the weather — Harry heard her mutter something to Ginny about cramps, and wisely decided to ask no further — the teenagers were allowed a chore-free morning. Harry told Ron that he too wasn't feeling well, and the oblivious redhead decided both his friends had clearly caught the same germs, so he went to go bother the twins while they rested.
Unfortunately, Harry's luck began to fail around lunchtime.
He was just beginning to hope he might get a peaceful afternoon, too — perhaps enough privacy to call Draco on the mirror, even — when Ron claimed the seat beside him at the table. "Alright, mate. You seem to be feeling better."
Harry didn't answer.
"I guess Hermione's staying in her room for the day," Ron continued, unperturbed. "Look, d'you think that, y'know, while she's not around — could I take a look at your Charms essay? She won't let me copy hers, not even just to get cliff notes so I can write my own version. You keep telling her you've done it already. Unless you were lying? You can tell me, mate — we can do them together, before she finds out and yells at you. Merlin, she's gonna be a nightmare this year with OWLs coming up." He chuckled. Harry didn't.
"I've written my essay," he confirmed.
"Brilliant!" Ron grinned. "So can I borrow it?"
"No."
The redhead faltered. "What? Come on, mate. I'm not gonna copy it, I just wanna see what you've written so I know I'm on the right track."
Harry gritted his teeth. The low-level headache he'd had since he'd woken up was rapidly spreading, his pulse thudding in his temples. He could already feel his magic buzzing under his skin — after stretching it to its limits while training with Snape the first half of the summer, it was not doing well being cooped up these last few weeks.
"We're going into fifth year, Ron. You should be able to write your own damned Charms essay by now," he bit out. Ron snorted.
"You sound like Hermione," he complained. "Mate, seriously, I—"
"No, Ron," Harry cut him off, voice louder than intended. Around them, everyone went silent. "You can't copy my essay, and I'm not your 'mate'." His tenuous hold on his emotions shattered, along with the jug of pumpkin juice in the middle of the table. Chair scraping against the tiles, he got to his feet. "Do your own bloody homework, and leave me alone!"
He'd hardly eaten, but he didn't care, storming from the kitchen before anyone could call him back. It was a stupid thing to get so upset over — he didn't even care about the Charms essay, but Ron talking to him as if the entire last year hadn't happened, as if he and Harry were still best friends… it was the final straw.
He reached his room and slammed the door in his wake, throwing himself down on his bed. His magic leapt eagerly to ward the door, and Harry wished more than anything that he could curse something, or go flying, or just get out of this damned house. He almost called Ceri to take him over to Seren Du, consequences be damned. Sirius had managed to escape for a few hours a week before Harry had moved there; surely they could do something to give him the same freedom?
He would never ask, though. It wasn't worth the risk — now Harry was here, there would be chaos if he went unnoticed for more than about ten minutes.
Besides, if he went to Seren Du they'd have a hard time getting him to ever leave again.
A knock on the door made him groan, but his ire lessened when he recognised Sirius' magic on the other side of the door. He dropped his ward, inviting the animagus in and rolling onto his side. His cheeks flushed at the look on his godfather's face. "I'm not mad at you," Sirius assured. "Not like Molly is. But she can stuff it, quite frankly — her youngest son is an arse." Harry snorted. "Did yelling at him help any?"
"Made me feel a bit better," Harry muttered, shifting aside so Sirius could join him on the single bed. The older man shuffled beside Harry, leaning against the headboard and stretching his legs out. After a beat, Harry rolled closer to him, burrowing his face in the man's side. "I hate this, Padfoot," he admitted, eyes stinging with tears. "This house… it's bad enough on its own, but they just won't leave me alone. I've got no privacy and far too many secrets and I still can't get a full night's sleep without waking up from one nightmare on another, and as soon as I wake up they're just pestering me and it's only going to get worse when school's back in because Dumbledore will be there, and no one here seems to even care that Cedric is dead or that Dudley is dead or anything! I can't even bloody go outside for some fresh air!" Across the room, the desk rattled. Harry swallowed back the lump of emotion in his throat. "I want to go home, Sirius," he whispered, staring up at the man with desperate eyes, red-rimmed and tearful.
"I know, pup," Sirius sighed, running his hand through Harry's hair. "I do, too."
Guiltily, Harry realised that Sirius had been stuck in this house for just as long as he had. He opened his mouth to apologise, but Sirius shook his head. "No, don't — I've had years of experience being trapped in this dump with people I hate," he said wryly. "I'd say at least we've got some good ones on our side — the other Weasley kids, and Remus, and even Tonks when she's around — but it's really not the same when all you need is a day or two to yourself." He kept stroking Harry's hair, and the boy leaned into the touch, feeling the tension slowly leak from his frame. "I'm sorry, pup. You've not had time to process anything about your cousin — that's a complicated bit of grief if I've ever seen one. And hell, you haven't really dealt with Cedric's death yet, not really." His voice was knowing, and Harry didn't deny it. The Hufflepuff's death still felt like a gaping wound in his chest. "I wish I could do more to help. I wish it wasn't so easy for Molly to boss me around in my own damn home."
"She's got Dumbledore on her side," Harry pointed out. "You never stood a chance."
"Neither of us did," Sirius agreed. "I wish I could take you home and let you fly and swim and bake with Ceri for a while. Wish I could get Draco there, and Cissa too — get them out of that bastard's clutches, get them somewhere safe. But… safe won't last long, these days, until we've done something about it. And doing all those things would only bring more trouble down on our heads."
Harry hummed quietly in agreement. Slowly, his breathing was beginning to steady itself again, his emotions draining from him until all he had was exhaustion and a deep, aching sadness. "I didn't mean to have such a meltdown." He wasn't going to apologise to Ron, but he'd have to deal with the awkwardness that would follow, and probably a scolding from Hermione about his temper, when she found out.
"I think you're owed more than a few of those," Sirius retorted. "Ron was being a prick, anyway — you were right, he's old enough to do his own homework." His hand stopped moving, resting on the back of Harry's neck, a comforting weight. "But you can lock him out of here 'til dinner. And the twins and I will up our pranking game to try and keep him off your back. There's only two more weeks until school, and then you'll have all your other friends around, and it'll be easier to avoid Ron and Hermione."
There was a sadness to Sirius' voice, and Harry's heart clenched; he would get to go back to school and escape Grimmauld Place, but Sirius wouldn't. "Are you going to be alright, when I go?"
"Oh, don't worry about me, pup," Sirius replied, bravado lingering at the edge of his smile. "Once all you kids are gone it'll be easy for me to pretend to sulk in my room all day. I can have Ceri pop me home and hang out with Beaky in the sunshine. I managed alright last year, after all."
Harry remembered all the days he'd called Sirius and seen the shadows in his face. All the times Remus had stayed at Seren Du to keep him company. Sirius was doing lots better, but Azkaban's scars were still present. "I'll always worry about you," he confessed, burrowing deeper into the man's chest. Sirius held him close.
"I know, kiddo. But honestly, I'll be alright. I can survive anything after Azkaban."
Harry sighed, longing for the day that Sirius — and himself — no longer just had to survive, but could truly enjoy life.
"Two weeks feels like forever," he admitted softly. Even at the Dursleys, summer had never dragged on so long.
"Tell me about it," Sirius agreed with a snort. Then he grew serious. "D'you want me to ask Snape for some more Dreamless Sleep?"
It was a tempting offer, but Harry shook his head. "It won't help in the long term." It would only delay the dreams. He couldn't take the potion forever. "Just… can we hang out here for a bit?" It was nice, being in the quiet with Sirius. Almost like being back at home.
"As long as you like, kiddo," Sirius agreed without hesitation. He started to stroke Harry's hair again, playing with the messy black strands. "We don't have to leave 'til you want to. Or if you want to kick me out and get some time to yourself, that's fine too. I'll just go hex all of Ron's pants to scream at him when he gets a boner."
Harry choked, burying helpless giggles in Sirius' jumper. "Maybe in a bit," he agreed.
He couldn't deny a Marauder his fun, after all.