Harry was relieved to see sense return to Sirius's eyes again; for a minute, he had looked like a thing possessed, and Harry couldn't help but worry about what being back in this house was doing to him. "What did Kreacher do to you?"he asked softly.
"He agreed with everything my despicable parents said," Sirius replied, putting an arm around the boy and drawing him close again. "They believed they were royalty, and were complete pureblood fanatics. To them, Muggles, Muggle-borns, and half-bloods were beneath them, not even worthy to lick their boots."
Harry listened intently as Sirius poured his heart out, revealing much of his family story. Harry had the feeling that a lot of this had been locked up tight within Sirius for a very long time, and therefore, he didn't interrupt, not even when he had questions. Sirius told of his stiff, formal upbringing, where there was hardly any fun involved, only a strict education on how to become a perfect little pureblood. As he spoke, a weight seemed to lift off him.
When Sirius came to the part about how he'd been disowned, though, Harry couldn't help but react. "They disowned you?" he exclaimed in outrage. "How could they do that? You were their son!"
Sirius let out a laugh that held a lifetime's worth of bitterness. "Yeah, well, that didn't matter to them," he said in a low voice. "Their pureblood mania meant more to them than I ever did. Their love was conditional, and I didn't live up to their expectations. So they burned my name off the family tree, and that was that."
Harry was horrified. He'd always felt awful and unwanted at the Dursleys, especially when he saw how many other children were treated by their parents. To Petunia and Vernon, he knew he was regarded as nothing more than a worthless burden. But he honestly couldn't imagine being in Sirius's shoes, being cast out and disowned from your own family. Harry now had a better understanding of Sirius's loathing towards them, even though the way he'd screamed at Kreacher still made him uncomfortable. "After you ran away, where did you go?" he asked eventually.
For the first time during the conversation, Sirius smiled. "Your father," he said, his eyes full of reminiscence. "His parents, your grandparents, treated me like a second son, and James always said he wanted a brother. I stayed with them until I finished Hogwarts, and then I found my own flat."
Harry's eyes widened, thrilled and intrigued at hearing this tidbit of information. "Wow," he breathed. "What was that like?"
"They were a real family, and they truly made me feel like I was a part of it," Sirius said wistfully. "Even after I moved to my own flat, and James and your mum started living together, the Potters would always invite us over for brunch every Sunday. That became routine until ..." Sirius stopped, a sad expression coming over his face. "Until they both died of dragonpox in 1979, a few months before Lily became pregnant with you. There was an epidemic of that disease during that time, and your grandparents were two of the casualties."
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, feeling very sad himself. He wished he'd had the chance to know his grandparents; they sounded like fantastic people. "What happened to my mum's parents?" he asked, unable to help his curiosity.
Sirius sighed deeply. "They were murdered by Voldemort in June 1980," he said. "He did it to hurt Lily, as a way to punish her for being part of the wizarding world."
"That's terrible," Harry gasped. He suddenly wondered if that was part of the reason Petunia despised magic so much, because after all, they'd been her parents too.
"Yes, that was a terrible time," Sirius agreed morosely. "We lost many good people during the First War."
Harry's heart sank when he saw the mournful expression on Sirius's face. The First War may be over, but a second one was about to begin. How many good people would they lose this time? Cedric had been the first. How many more would there be? And how many good people would die because they were associating with Harry?
"I'm sorry, kiddo," Sirius said, beginning to rub Harry's back. "I'm such a fool. We shouldn't be talking about this. You should be healing, and I should be reassuring you that everything's going to be okay."
Harry stared into Sirius's gray eyes, his own emerald ones looking tired and too old for his almost fifteen years. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I know we need to prepare for what's going to happen next."
Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, sadness still evident in his eyes. "It's so unfair," he murmured gently. "You're still a child. You should be allowed to be a child, and you should never have to deal with how vile this world can get."
There was silence for a few minutes after that, with the two just holding onto one another for comfort. Finally, Sirius released Harry and said, "Would you like your chicken sandwich now?"
Harry sat up and nodded quickly. The sandwiches and pumpkin juice still sat on the table; they'd been there the entire time, but the discussion had become so intense that they'd promptly been forgotten about. But now, Harry reached for a sandwich and began to eat, and he found it to be very good indeed.
It was while Harry was sipping at his pumpkin juice that Sirius spoke again. "Thank you, Harry," he murmured suddenly.
Harry put his cup down on the table and faced Sirius. "For what?" he murmured in confusion.
"For helping me get my head back on straight," Sirius said, and his gray eyes were full of love and sincerity. "For letting me tell you about my family. You're dealing with so much right now, and I know I scared you earlier. I'm truly sorry I lost it with Kreacher. I let being back in this house get to me when I know I shouldn't have. I told you that with you here, this house will become more of a home than it ever has before. I just have to try to not let the bad memories get to me."
At these words, Harry's heart flipped at the renewed realization of what Sirius was willing to go through for him. If anyone knew about being triggered by bad memories, it was Harry. Guilt tried to suffocate him again; Sirius had purposely gone to a place he hated, in order to keep someone he loved safe. Did he really deserve to be blessed with such a gift? "It's okay," he said softly.
Sirius seemed to sense the track Harry's mind was on, and he immediately pulled the boy close again. "What did I tell you about guilt, Harry?" His voice had adopted that stern tone again, but it was still gentle. "I told you, I'll do anything for you. This is the safest place we've got. Nothing and no one can get to us here. You can take all the time you need to heal here."
Harry's eyes gazed into Sirius's. "But what about you,?" he asked, his heart aching for the man who was holding him like he was the most valuable thing in the world. "You need to heal too, and you hate it in this house. Can you really heal here?"
Sirius's eyes adopted a look of wonder, and as Harry watched, tears gathered in the corners. But amazingly, he was smiling as he answered.
"Oh kiddo," he whispered, pulling Harry even closer. "I'm pretty sure I can. It's the people that make the house a home, after all. You're my home, Harry, whether we're at Grimmauld Place or on a desert island. We can make new memories here, Harry, just the two of us."
And for a moment, any feelings of doubt and uncertainty about the future melted away. Sirius was right; this wasn't an ideal situation, not even in the slightest. But, as Harry lost himself in the sensations of truly being loved by someone, none of it mattered. He was with Sirius; therefore, he was home.
.....
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