he’s made of everyone he’s loved, he’s a patchwork of missing pieces they took with them, of pieces of themselves they left with him, he’s the behaviour he was taught, he’s the bravoure he was born with, he’s cissa’s love for secrets && bella’s carelessness ( he has his brother’s eyes and his mother’s strong will ) : he’s everyone he’s ever loved && his heart is not whole for all the pieces he gave away. not gave, not really, he has been zealous with his love but they rip it from him. james with his humor, lily with her empathy, remus with his kindness, peter with his joy ( and marlene with her smile, her wit, her beauty, with her wild heart && her courage ). godson’s laugh brings him back, harry’s joy pulling back in the moment, pushing the ghosts away. but he can’t ignore the slight shake of fingers that reach for his glass, ❝ reg did not like to be told what to do when he had not decided to do it. ❞ his brother has been more than a death eater, more than a servant, his brother has thought himself king in his kingdom, bowing to another could have never been natural / he’s certain of it. ❝ think it was the only one sadly, the only serious one at least, ❞ and his smirk holds regrets, deep ones that turn into his head, like her ghost that sits on his bed at night && taunts him. ❝ there was a girl i should have proposed too though. i was too late, ❞ gaze evades harry’s, he can’t stand looking at the same eyes that had urged him years ago to go after what he wanted but he had been scared && marlene had slipped through his fingers like water, like she always did. that thief took the boy he was with her, kept his love close to her even in death.
selfishness has been beaten out of him in prison, what little pride he has left has spread to his every bone like grapevine, to stand tall and invest himself in others is the only way to keep from the edge, the ghosts must wait for his loneliness, for the darkness of the night && the emptiness of the house. ❝ eh ? how was that like ? received your letter and everything ? ❞ curiosity is a flame awoken by the little snippets he’s offered, he’s wondered for years all alone in azkaban / how did harry learn about that world that is his ? he wonders if he would change a thing himself, if he could, would he do it ? would he turn back a time and save a life, but which ? and looking at harry, looking at that boy who holds his head high, who went through so much shit and still walks tall, sirius knows he would turn back time and bring back the kid’s parents, he would give his life for theirs / but that was always the case. ❝ that’s cause you’re brave, kid. and wise, ❞ && he hopes the kid knows how proud sirius is of him, though he did shit for him, he still feels such warm pride for how well the kid is handling it all. but where he should see love, the black man only sees the hurt, the lack of affection the kid suffered from because no one fought for him, because no one loved harry enough to save him from his fate, from lily’s family : he knows dumbledore’s reasoning, it’s fucking bullshit. ❝ a word from you and i know a dog who wouldn’t mind scaring them. ❞ wink is conspiratorial but he’s boiling inside, wishing to make them regret how badly they treated a kid because what ? he was not like them ? fuck that and fuck them.
WHEN YOU LOOK AROUND, ALL YOU SEE IS DEATH. certain company did cloud that perception, allowing glimmers here and there to conqueror through, even if temporary. ringed digits, tattooed skin, a smile that didn’t quite reach all features shimmered in evidence. harry is offered a glimpse into the boy sirius once was, still clung onto in passing days, and he ate it up. oftentimes he will crave just to reach out, place own blemished hands into godfathers and demand the world to spare them a moment. the fraction of a moment, even. without the solemn interference of day-to-day life. destined boy found own grin since faded, standing in the doorway of elders memories, reaching a gander of what lay beneath exterior. he relished in such moments [ not to bare witness to anguish or regrets of the past, which hands of time ultimately destroyed and faded ], rather to note truth, perhaps endure alongside the man.
aware he can always ask, that sirius would never turn him away... preference stood in being told, though, rather than prompted to confess. at the puzzle of his core, after all, there is the deepest longing, a constant, weighted reminder: HE IS THE ONLY FAMILY HE HAS LEFT. and harry should be so lucky to have him, alas he wanted to scratch more than the mere surface. sirius is the flame of hope in harry’s eyes, and the boy is but a moth desperately reaching. ‘ why didn’t you, then? ’ harry contemplated wistfully, deep glance of his furrowing brow, and a light tang of seriousness alluded stronger than vague curiousity. ‘ what happened to her? ’ he converts question on its head, wordlessly dismissing an almost accusation in the former, shifting identity to the latter. harry meant no harm, rather expression contorted to a shape of desirable understanding, the need to know. a million possible answers and harry would listen to them all.
this complicated boy who could very well be an emperor if he pushed himself to it, was evidently frightened like a child. perhaps because he’d never truly been one. he’d been raised himself good boy, a kind one! [ but kindness was what killed you these days. guards lowered enough for the bad to creep in -- kindness a life taker. ] ‘ it was fantastic, sirius, ’ is all he could manage for the moment, the way he’s voiced the simple answer is all that needs to be said. difficult to believe he was once that kid with attempts in vain to curl fingers around one single letter. ‘ just to get out. knowing all those wasted years would mean something. that i meant something. ’ lips curl, tongue retorting back to often used ease and wit. jested, [ or protecting that heart of his ], ‘ oh, in case you weren’t aware: the dursley’s aren’t what you’d call the brightest bunch. it was more refreshing than anything, to be around people with actual intellect. ’ and he laughs then, proper bells chiming, bubbling in warmth. ‘ well, i mean, i wouldn’t say no. ’ mind flickers briefly to his first, unofficial introduction to his godfather on the side of the street, beneath the stars. the offer was all the more intriguing.
earnestness took stage again, smile faltered a tad, yet remained bright in his eyes. ‘ but brave, and wise? i don’t know about that, ’ tone employs final conviction, shoulders reaching upwards in the arc of a small shrug. ‘ 'spose it all got me here though... ’ more importantly, ‘ to you. and that’s what matters, right? where we are now. and where we’ll go from here. ’ voice a little too desperate in the attempt to convince himself. both handed the short straw in far too many turns; they deserved some kind of future after it all.