Chapter 54: Heartstrings
Harry stumbled through the portrait hole, head still reeling from the discovery. His feet took him across the common room to the couch nearest the fire, where he slumped for several long minutes. Thoughts of their discovery flew through his head, colliding and bouncing about in a confusing swarm. This was what they wanted. This was what they had been searching for. This was the reason he had gone out with Alfie. They knew the way home. This was good.
So why did it feel like he had swallowed a stone? Why did his chest ache?
"Merlin, Harry, what happened to you?"
It took him some time to register the question and even longer to respond. When he finally blinked back his stupor, he saw James perched on the edge of the table before him, frown marring his face and worry in his eyes. The ache grew worse to see his young father so concerned. "We're going home," he managed in a dull voice.
The boy opposite responded far more quickly, his eyebrows rising even as his frown etched deeper into his face. "You found the book?"
"Yes, but it wasn't what we needed. I had it on me all along," Harry replied and relayed the events of the afternoon. He was careful to leave out the parts that might send James into a state or have him clogging his ears with his fingers. Even the edited version had the colour rising in the boy's face.
"Wait," James said, hand held up to signal a pause in the tale. "You got off without any punishment?"
A laugh raced from his mouth. "Of all the things you choose to care about, it's that?"
"Well, you permanently disfigured another student. I think it's a valid question," he insisted. "I've gotten loads of detentions for stuff nowhere near as horrible at that. I'm just looking for a little justice."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, I got detentions and lost fifty points, but it was in defence of a friend. A little overkill, but justified. At least according to Dumbledore." He frowned, wondering if the headmaster was right. Even knowing why he did it, there were plenty of other spells he could have used that were far less damaging. Alfie would likely never be seen in public again; he would be spirited from Hogwarts to St Mungo's or to some hidden annex of his family's home. He would be dead to the world, all his brilliance and potential locked away, as much behind his hideous visage as behind the doors concealing him.
"So you're going home? When?" the Chaser asked lightly, apparently unaffected by the ache which filled Harry's every breath.
"Dumbledore could probably send us there now."
"Don't you dare," James said. His fingers curled into the fabric of the repaired shirt and he gave the boy a jarring shake to punctuate his every demand. "I will not be landed with some rubbish second-string Seeker fourteen days before the final match of the year. You will stay. You will play. You will win us that game. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said quickly.
"Good," the boy said, his tone lightening in a flash. "So what are you going to do about Padfoot?
"I don't think there's anything I can do. He's a hopeless case," he replied with a mocking smile.
In truth, Harry did not know what could be done about Sirius. It was easy to rationalise what they had, to insist it was a game; they had been flirting for months but only ever kissed, and that had only happened that very morning. It wasn't like Remus and Hermione, who had been properly together since before Christmas. But he knew the Veritaserum would not have allowed him to lie or even exaggerate when he admitted how vital the other boy was to him. Thinking about just how much he needed Sirius, the ache in his chest grew stronger.
James nodded his head slowly a few times. He said nothing, but it was clear that he was thinking something, something he did not like judging by the look on his face. When he finally stopped the deliberating movement, his face looked untainted by thoughts. "So," he said brightly. "Are you going to miss us when we're gone?"
"What?" Harry asked, his voice too high.
"I don't know how old I am or what I'm like where you're from, but I know I won't be quite the same as I am now. Lily will have made sure I matured or something. Are you going to miss hanging out with us like this?"
The ache grew to a painful throb as he thought of leaving his parents behind. "Yeah. I'm going to miss it."
"Damn right you will. So I say we make the most of our last few days: Pranks like you have never seen. When people remember Harry James Granger, I want them to remember the fun he brought." The boy rubbed his hands together with a wicked gleam in his eye.
"I know that look." Remus grinned as he dropped into a nearby chair. "Are we plotting, Messer Potter?"
"Indeed we are, Messer Lupin. Two weeks of our most ambitious pranks to send Messer Granger off with pride and fond memories."
"Send him off? Is Messer Granger leaving?" The prefect turned his smile to Harry, where it faltered and fell. "You're not joking, are you? You're actually leaving. For good?"
Harry nodded.
"Hermione, too?"
Again he nodded.
"Dammit." He kicked a table and swore a few more times for good measure. "It was taking so long I thought for sure you would be stuck here forever. The one girl who likes me for me, who doesn't care that I'm a w—a, uh, prefect."
"A werewolf," Harry corrected. "You can say it. I don't care, either."
Harry wanted to laugh as Remus struggled to find words, as he paled to a ghastly white while his ears glowed Gryffindor scarlet. A single word found its way from his flapping mouth: "How?"
"I'm not stupid. I do have eyes," he insisted. It was the truth. His keen eyes had seen his friend change into a terrifying creature beneath a full moon in about seventeen years' time, but Remus didn't need to know that.
"And you're okay with it? With me? I mean I'm dating your sister and I'm a, well, you know," he trailed off into an uncertain whisper.
"Werewolf," Harry finished for him. "Yeah. Not like it's contagious or anything. Well, it sort of is, I suppose, but if you tried to bite her she'd probably hex you into a whimpering mass of gillyweed. So, no, it's fine."
The boy groaned and slumped down in his chair. "So unfair. The one girl who likes me even though I'm a werewolf and who has a brother who doesn't care either and she's leaving. Who figured out how to send you home? I want to bite him." Despite his despondent scowl, his friends could only laugh at him.
The ache came again even as he laughed. He would miss this. Yes, he had friends of his own and a life to live in his right time, but it was nothing like this. He wasn't like Hermione; he didn't have words enough to be able to describe the relationship he had built with these boys. He just knew that when he went home, Ron, Neville and Seamus just wouldn't be the same. He wished there was a way to keep part of them alive, to keep this feeling with him when he returned. James and Sirius would be gone, but Remus remained. Remus might be able to hold the torch for the life they had now. He had to make sure the boy would remember. Even if Dumbledore wiped his memory of the details of who Harry was, he had to make certain the boy retained enough that Harry could remind him. And he had a grand idea of how.
"I've got something for you lot," he said, wicked smile pulling at his mouth as he hauled Remus up from his chair and beckoned them to follow him.
They locked the door to their room as Harry dove into his trunk, digging deep into the cavernous space to find the bag Fred and George had given him so many months ago. "Now, you have to solemnly swear that you will not attempt to recreate anything I am about to give you," he said as he held the bag just beyond their reach.
"I swear it," James agreed without pause.
"What is—," Remus began, but got a sharp jab in the ribs, which turned his question into a promise. "I swear it."
"Pads? You promise, too?" James called, drawing Harry's attention from the pair before him to the boy sitting silently on his bed. He hadn't noticed Sirius when he entered; the boy was so still and quiet. Even now that they were all looking his way, he barely moved. His face was drawn and hands tight around a discoloured bit of parchment.
"I swear," he replied.
"Right," Harry said uncertainly, his previous excitement dulled by the presentiment the boy's expression brought to him.
"What is it?" James demanded and moved to take the bag.
Pulling it beyond his reach, Harry took from the bag a miniscule box, which grew in his hand at the touch of his wand. He offered the box of treats. "Try one and see."
The boy's hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied the simple box and the sweets contained within. The twins, however, were brilliant. The biscuits appeared perfectly ordinary; the custard centre enticing and sweet-smelling. "What will it do?"
"Try one and see," he repeated, grin taking over his face.
"You prat," James grumbled and shoved the whole biscuit in his mouth. He barely had time to swallow before his whole body gave a shudder, and he took off into the air, a massive flash of yellow flitting through their room.
"That is brilliant!" James cried a moment later as he fell onto his bed amidst a shower of moulted feathers.
Remus couldn't keep from smiling as he asked, "How many have you got?"
"Five boxes."
"I love Johannesburg! I cannot wait to see what it looks like," the giddy Chaser laughed. "The pranks you lot must get up to there!"
Harry, determined not to let his good mood fade, dug into the bag and pulled out another box, which he enlarge and offered to the grinning prefect. "For Remus," he said.
The boy took the box, smile still on his face after watching James turn into a twittering canary. "Skiving Snack Box?" he read and pulled the box and its multiple compartments open to reveal the sweets within. "Puking Pastilles, Fever Fancies, Nosebleed Nougats? What is this?"
"I thought it would help you out on the full moons," he explained. "Your stomach sickness lie is pretty rubbish. I'm sure people are starting to wonder about it by now. But no one argues with a nosebleed, now do they?"
The boy looked ready to cry as he hugged the box to his chest. "Seriously, who sorted out how to send you home? I want to hex them for taking you away."
"Me," Sirius said darkly. "He'd never have sorted it out if I hadn't mentioned the necklace glowing."
"Well, you are an arse," Remus informed him. "I resent your presence and your face and your hair. Your jokes are terrible, and you are a miserable human being. Kindly throw yourself off the North Tower at your earliest convenience."
"Gladly."
James took hold of the prefect and pulled him to the door. "Come on, Moony. We need to start plotting the use of those custard biscuits."
"What?" the boy said stupidly. "We can plot here."
"No, we can plot much better in the common room."
"Since when?"
"Since I said so. Move your arse." He offered the boy a hard look and jerked his head toward Sirius and Harry.
"Oh, yeah. Common room. Good plan," Remus agreed and waved. "We'll see you two later. We're just going to go plot. In the common room. And not here. With you." The door closed like an exclamation point, putting an abrupt and certain end to the boy's awkward and rambling departure.
Harry could only stare at the ancient wood, wondering why they felt the need to leave, but when he turned to comment on their strange behaviour he saw Sirius had barely shifted from when they first entered the room.
"They're not exactly subtle, are they?" Harry commented.
"Subtle is boring," Sirius muttered and offered the boy a meaningful look, "and it tends to go over some people's heads."
"Like mine?"
"For one," he agreed.
Silence fell between them while Sirius folded his parchment and set it aside. Harry was reminded of Operation Not-Prongs and the way Sirius always used to hide that parchment from him whenever he came into a room. It was unlikely the boy had any further secret lists on hand, but it was always difficult to say with him.
"So, if you're giving out your secret stash, you must really be going home," the boy observed. Harry nodded his reply, which did nothing for his friend's mood. "Just like that? One necklace was all that stood between you and the future. All those months searching for spells, searching for an expert and snogging Alfie fucking Quintain, and the answer was literally under your nose."
"Pretty much." Harry paused, unsure if he really wanted to ask the question, but afraid that they would spend the last few days avoiding one another as they had spent the previous weeks. "Are you cross with me again?"
"I was never cross with you," Sirius insisted, shoving himself off the bed. "I was poorly. There's a difference."
"Looked an awful lot like being cross to me."
"Well, you need to get your eyes checked because I was cross with myself. Same as I am now. I should have kept my mouth shut." He swore under his breath and raked a hand through his hair as he only ever did when he was at a loss for words. "I… I just got you and now you're leaving."
"You've had me since September, Sirius," he scoffed.
"No," he insisted, grabbing Harry's face and forcing him to look into his plaintive grey eyes. "Not like this. I played with you since September. I wanted you since November. And I finally got you this morning. It's not fair. I only just got you. You can't leave. Not now."
There it was again, that ache in his chest. That slow, dull pain that made him want to cry with every beat of his heart. Why did he have to go and feel it now