Dude Do Tag Me!

To throw up confetti! Again!

(wrote this for all the sirius + harry fans who were having rough days yesterday ((more than one??? y'all good??)). have some fluff? maybe? i don't even know anymore.)

-

"Budge over," Sirius said as he sat down on the edge of his godson's bed, Harry currently laying in it with a hooded sweatshirt pulled over his head in the dead of summer, and as far as Sirius knew, this had been the outfit of choice for a few days now.

Since Harry had come home from a date and retreated to his bedroom, some melancholic record playing loud enough to signal to Remus and Sirius that something terrible had happened.

The first night Harry had cried.

The second night Harry had shouted at the both of them.

The third night Harry had decided the silent treatment was the best course of action and he was going to stay in his bedroom no matter how many times Sirius offered to buy him anything under the sun or Remus tempted with heartbreak dessert.

"I don't want to talk, Sirius," Harry mumbled, scooting over a minuscule amount to allow his godfather to join him in bed. Sirius took the space though, moving so he could lean against Harry's headboard, one arsecheek on the bed, the other hanging half off.

"Okay, you don't have to," Sirius said, clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach. "Thought you might like some company though."

"Why would you think that?" He asked roughly, rolling to his side to avoid eye contact or interaction.

"Because you're sad. Because I raised you and know that when you get hurt, you want someone to stay with you. Like when you fell off your bike down that hill?" Harry twisted his neck slightly so he could look at Sirius, "Went too fast...fell so hard. I don't think I've ever ran so quickly in my life to get to you."

"I was fine though...nothing was broken."

"Oh no, but your knees had some bad scrapes on them, a few bruises. I didn't know having something physically broken was the threshold for injury."

"I just mean it wasn't that bad."

"At nine it was. And the whole day you just wanted to be around one of us. Slept in our bed too."

"I'm not nine," Harry muttered, though he moved so he could mimic Sirius's position, sitting up slightly and folding his hands over his stomach, Harry's pointy elbow touching Sirius's.

"You're not, I don't even wish you were anymore, you were a little hellion."

"What? No, I wasn't."

"You used to hang upside down off the third floor, do you remember that? Climb over the railings and hook your feet in and just drop. I'm actually shocked I'm still alive after witnessing that a few times."

Harry cracked a small smile, "Well that was the fun part..."

"Mhmm, I know it was. See? Nothing but trouble," Sirius nudged Harry with this shoulder, noticing that his godson had moved closer to Sirius as he spoke, their elbows overlapping. "But...thing is, even if you had fallen off the railing, or the banister collapsed and you came with it. We'd bandage you up, figure it out, fix the railing. It gets a bit harder when the hurt isn't physical. Nothing's broken, not really, right now and yet..."

"Fucking sucks."

"Broken hearts really fucking suck," Sirius responded, nodding.

"It...just sucks to feel like he didn't want me anymore. What do I do about that?" Harry asked and looked up to Sirius, their shoulders now pressed together. Sirius took a chance, moving one of his arms off his stomach and wrapping it around Harry.

Harry didn't pull away or fidget under the touch. Not a single eye roll.

"You...sit here, and you listen to all the sad music," Sirius started, deciding to leave out the moment in time where he thought he was going to charm Harry's record player off after hearing "I Had a King" for the 30th time, "and you...let someone sit with you until it doesn't hurt so much. Scrapped knees heal, so do hearts."

"You sure?"

"Well the alternative is you being heartbroken for the rest of your life and never leaving your bedroom and I'm okay with that too," Sirius said, "I'll still hang out with you. I'll grow a long white beard sitting here with you."

Harry put his head on Sirius's chest, and Sirius's hand went to the back of Harry's head, resting on messy black hair. "I...I don't think it'll be that long. You know?"

"Yeah."

Personal headcanon:

Sirius was Harry's dogfather (according to harry) and well... Sirius being Sirius never corrected him sooo when they met and sirius told him firsthand that he was Harry's godfather a memory surfaced in both of their brains and they both looked at each other

"You know when you were little you used to-"

"-call you my dogfather?"

"Well, yeah - how'd you remember that?"

And harry justs shrugs

I need a fanfic about this if you know any do tell me in the comments or reblogs or whatever

Trying to find Fanfic Author St Mean

Ok soooo if anyone wants a james potter fanfic from the Marauders era: James Potter Chronicles Year 1(-5 is posted yet)

But Mr. St Mean if you are on Tumblr I would request you to continue rhe fanfic....

And, others, I would like to urge you to read it. Its so underrated!!! Its canon n yk no slashes but still sorry to atyd readers but after reading this I really couldnt understand why atyd is more famous than jpc its way better!!!!

GGSB Fest 2024 - Perfect First Day

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - First Day of School

Sirius isn't ready for Harry's first day of primary school, but it turns out it's perfect.

AO3

***

Despite the fact that Sirius had gotten to spend the last few years as a stay-at-home parent and knew that this time was coming, he’s still sad even as he packs Harry’s bag for his first day of school.  They had gone shopping the day before to make sure he had all of his school supplies.  He’d picked out a nice outfit for the first, and once he’s packed, it’ll be time to tuck Harry in and before he knows it – they’ll be at the school… for Harry’s first day.

“Pads?” the small voice of his godson says from the top of the stairs.  

“I’ll be up in a minute to help tuck you in, just change into your pajamas.”

“Okay!”

It only takes a few more minutes before he steels himself and goes upstairs.  Tonight was the last night before everything would begin to change.

“Ready for bed, kiddo?” Sirius asks, a smile – only slightly forced – on his face.  He has no idea what he’s going to do without his kid for hours every day.  

“Yeah!” Harry cheers.

“What kind of bedtime story are you looking for tonight?” Sirius questions.

“Will you tell me about your first day of school?” 

Sirius let's out a little laugh as he sits beside Harry’s bed.  “Well, your dad and I didn’t go to primary school – only Hogwarts, and I’ve told you about meeting your mum and dad on the train ride to school, but your mum did go to primary school.”

“Will you tell me about her first day, then?”

Sirius hums.  “Well, she always liked to say that she met her best muggle friend on the first of school.  She had sat in the wrong seat and another classmate of hers had said that it was her seat – they were arguing as much as five-year-olds can argue and it turns out her name was Lila and with your mum’s name as Lily – they were so close it was easily mistaken.  The teacher thought they should separate the girls, but they became friends instead.”

Harry’s looking at him like that wasn’t much of story – which makes sense, his own story about meeting on the train and James pulling an imaginary sword had been far more entertaining.  

“Do you think I’ll make a friend like mum did?” Harry asks, eyes wide like he’s worried about that.

Sirius smiles softly at him.  “I’m sure you will, but not if you’re grouchy from lack of sleep.  So, get some sleep – big day tomorrow.”

Harry pouts a bit before he yawns.  “Night, Pads.”

“Night, kid.”

***

In the morning, Sirius packs Harry’s lunch before helping him with his backpack and taking him by the hand to walk him to the school down the street.  His kid is happily chattering on and on about what school might be like and not at all noticing that Sirius isn’t nearly as ready for this as he pretends to be.  

He knows that this is what Lily (and James) would’ve wanted, but after so long of never being away from one another, Sirius can’t help freaking out a bit.  

He’s just not ready for this – Harry’s not ready for this – maybe … maybe it would be better to hold him back a year … or homeschool him…

But they reach the school before Sirius knows it and he’s … disappointed.

He’s not ready for this.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter as they enter the school and Harry happily finds his classroom rather quickly for his age.  The teacher greets Harry and says, “Mr. Potter, please go ahead and help Harry find his desk – you can stay until class starts.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says.  He doesn’t correct her.  James’ parents had practically adopted him, and he hates the Black name, so when they moved, he simply decided to go by Potter, made things easier. 

He helps Harry find his desk next to a little boy, whose name plate reads Dean Thomas, and he smiles at the mother beside him.  

“Look Dean, here’s your deskmate,” the mother says.  “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The little boy – Dean – smiles and introduces himself, and Harry smiles and does the same after a quick nod from Sirius.  

Then, in his excitement once Dean shows him what he’d been drawing, Harry turns to him and says, “Look, Paddy, I made a friend.”

Sirius barely stifles his laugh as he says, “You sure did.”

Before anything else could be said, the teacher calls for last goodbyes and he hugs Harry tight, like he doesn’t want to let him go, and barely contains his desire to cry.  Another parent – not Dean’s mother – says, “Don’t worry, the day will go by faster than you think.”

Sirius nods, and let's go, telling Harry to be good and learn lots before following the other parents outside the classroom.  The one that had spoken to him, introduces himself as Holly’s father, and says, “First one?”

“And only,” Sirius says.  “He’s technically my godson/nephew.  I won’t have kids of my own, but I’ve been raising him since we lost his parents.  I was a stay-at-home parent and now… well, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Holly’s father gives him a small smile as they leave with Dean’s mother.  “Well, I’ve got a small shop that works on motor vehicles.  You know anything about that?”

Sirius grins.  “I built my motorbike from scratch.  I love motor vehicles.”

“Maybe we could go out to eat and talk about it?”

“I’d like that.”  

“Then, let’s go.”

***

Sirius could admit that he rather liked Holly’s father and Dean’s mother (who had come along as well, purely because she also expressed an interest).  Their outing had helped pass the day (which did go quickly) before they arrived to pick up their kids.  

As soon as he sees Sirius, Harry takes off at a run and straight into a waiting Sirius’ arms.  He’s already babbling about his day and his new friends Holly and Dean.  

“I made new friends, too,” Sirius teases, gesturing at Holly’s father and Dean’s mother.  The adults laugh, but Harry cheers and it’s wonderful.  

Holly’s father claps him on the shoulder and Dean’s mother smiles.  “I’ll see you both tomorrow?”

“We’ll be here.”

“Good.”

With that, they all wave goodbye and start to head home.  

Harry reiterates his entire day all happy and excited and honestly, there’s nothing better than this. 

He’s so thrilled that it’s all worked out – they’re both happy and they’re off to brighter future. 

The perfect first day of school.

(wrote this for all the sirius + harry fans who were having rough days yesterday ((more than one??? y'all good??)). have some fluff? maybe? i don't even know anymore.)

-

"Budge over," Sirius said as he sat down on the edge of his godson's bed, Harry currently laying in it with a hooded sweatshirt pulled over his head in the dead of summer, and as far as Sirius knew, this had been the outfit of choice for a few days now.

Since Harry had come home from a date and retreated to his bedroom, some melancholic record playing loud enough to signal to Remus and Sirius that something terrible had happened.

The first night Harry had cried.

The second night Harry had shouted at the both of them.

The third night Harry had decided the silent treatment was the best course of action and he was going to stay in his bedroom no matter how many times Sirius offered to buy him anything under the sun or Remus tempted with heartbreak dessert.

"I don't want to talk, Sirius," Harry mumbled, scooting over a minuscule amount to allow his godfather to join him in bed. Sirius took the space though, moving so he could lean against Harry's headboard, one arsecheek on the bed, the other hanging half off.

"Okay, you don't have to," Sirius said, clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach. "Thought you might like some company though."

"Why would you think that?" He asked roughly, rolling to his side to avoid eye contact or interaction.

"Because you're sad. Because I raised you and know that when you get hurt, you want someone to stay with you. Like when you fell off your bike down that hill?" Harry twisted his neck slightly so he could look at Sirius, "Went too fast...fell so hard. I don't think I've ever ran so quickly in my life to get to you."

"I was fine though...nothing was broken."

"Oh no, but your knees had some bad scrapes on them, a few bruises. I didn't know having something physically broken was the threshold for injury."

"I just mean it wasn't that bad."

"At nine it was. And the whole day you just wanted to be around one of us. Slept in our bed too."

"I'm not nine," Harry muttered, though he moved so he could mimic Sirius's position, sitting up slightly and folding his hands over his stomach, Harry's pointy elbow touching Sirius's.

"You're not, I don't even wish you were anymore, you were a little hellion."

"What? No, I wasn't."

"You used to hang upside down off the third floor, do you remember that? Climb over the railings and hook your feet in and just drop. I'm actually shocked I'm still alive after witnessing that a few times."

Harry cracked a small smile, "Well that was the fun part..."

"Mhmm, I know it was. See? Nothing but trouble," Sirius nudged Harry with this shoulder, noticing that his godson had moved closer to Sirius as he spoke, their elbows overlapping. "But...thing is, even if you had fallen off the railing, or the banister collapsed and you came with it. We'd bandage you up, figure it out, fix the railing. It gets a bit harder when the hurt isn't physical. Nothing's broken, not really, right now and yet..."

"Fucking sucks."

"Broken hearts really fucking suck," Sirius responded, nodding.

"It...just sucks to feel like he didn't want me anymore. What do I do about that?" Harry asked and looked up to Sirius, their shoulders now pressed together. Sirius took a chance, moving one of his arms off his stomach and wrapping it around Harry.

Harry didn't pull away or fidget under the touch. Not a single eye roll.

"You...sit here, and you listen to all the sad music," Sirius started, deciding to leave out the moment in time where he thought he was going to charm Harry's record player off after hearing "I Had a King" for the 30th time, "and you...let someone sit with you until it doesn't hurt so much. Scrapped knees heal, so do hearts."

"You sure?"

"Well the alternative is you being heartbroken for the rest of your life and never leaving your bedroom and I'm okay with that too," Sirius said, "I'll still hang out with you. I'll grow a long white beard sitting here with you."

Harry put his head on Sirius's chest, and Sirius's hand went to the back of Harry's head, resting on messy black hair. "I...I don't think it'll be that long. You know?"

"Yeah."

Sooo umm... how about a part two (before of die off of cuteness)?

"i need your help"

The question has been posed a few times by Harry to Sirius over the years, but this is the first time Sirius looks up at him and smiles in response.

Harry is standing in the doorway of Sirius' study with a scowl on his face and a piece of silk held between his fingertips like it's a bug.

"Oh?" Sirius shuts the Ministry of Magic Legal Handbook Version 26.0 that he's been frantically flipping through for the past hours out of fear he's forgotten something and stands up.

"I don't know how to tie a tie," Harry explains. He takes a few steps into the room and tosses the fabric at Sirius, who easily catches it.

Sirius smirks. "How were you planning on surviving Hogwarts next year? Part of the uniform, you know."

Harry shrugs. "I figure you'd teach me a charm or something."

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter. "Last time I tried spell to tie a tie it nearly strangled me, so unfortunately we're gonna do this the Muggle way. Come over here."

Harry stands in front of Sirius as his godfather winds the tie around his shoulders, patiently guiding him through the twining of fabric until the tie sits neatly tied around Harry's neck.

Sirius takes a step back to look at his handiwork and nods, satisfied. "There. What do you think?"

Harry looks at his reflection in the large ornate mirror hung across the back wall of the study. "Better than being strangled, I suppose."

Sirius grins and knocks his fist gently against Harry's chin. "You know, you didn't have to wear a tie. It'll only be the two of us and the Wizenmagot official"

"Remus isn't coming?"

Sirius shakes his head. "No, not allowed."

Harry frowns and opens his mouth, but then closes it without saying anything.

Sirius gives him a knowing look. "It's bullshit, but it's the laws. But like I said, you didn't have to wear a tie. The Wizenmagot official's going to perform the ceremony regardless of how fancy you look."

Harry shrugs. "It's an important day for me."

Sirius can't help but smile. "Not everyday you get adopted. You sure you're not having any last minute doubts?"

Harry shakes his head emphatically. "No, never." He makes a noise, as if he's going to add something, and then hesitates. Sirius waits patiently. "Do you think my dad would be mad? That I'm, you know, getting a new dad?"

Sirius' heart stutters as Harry voices the same question he's asked himself for the past five years. He wraps his arm around Harry's shoulder and draws him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Absolutely not. I think your dad would want you to be happy, no matter what. And he wouldn't have made me your godfather if he didn't want me taking care of you. Does this-" he gestures between their two bodies. "-make you happy?"

Harry nods into Sirius' chest. "Yeah."

"Good. Me too. I think your dad would be happy too."

They stand in silence for a moment before Harry speaks up. "Thanks. For adopting me."

Sirius presses his face into Harry's hair and smiles. "Nothing to thank me for kiddo. It's my absolute joy to be your dad."

A few moments pass by before Sirius speaks up again. "We should probably get going though. Wizenmagot official might die of old age if we get there too late."

A small fic written for day 5 of @goodgodfathersiriusblack fest: first day of school. Also, merry imp-mas for @impishtubist i remember when I was a mere chaos anon on your inbox and now I am proud to call myself your friend. <3

Sirius has promised himself that he would not cry. 

At least not in front of Harry. It’s not a rule for him usually - all the parenting books he devoured when Harry was still a mere baby suggested that it would be healthy for a child’s development to see their parents cry sometimes - but today everything needs to stay fun. The last thing he wants is to make Harry worry for his sake; that boy can be ridiculously sensitive sometimes. 

His resolution starts to crumble the second they are both on the platform nine and three quarters. It is full of people, animals and a lot of noise - Harry grabs his hand out of habit, although he rarely does it in public anymore. Tears are prickling behind Sirius’s eyes, but he blinks them stubbornly away and turns to smile at the little boy. “Are you ready to go?” 

Harry nods but can’t mask the nervousness. Sirius can’t remember if he was frightened before his first train ride. If he was, it didn’t last long, because once he ended up in the same compartment with James, he knew his life was about to turn for the better. 

“You will do great. Just do your best, have fun and remember to write to me at least once a week so I don’t need to apparate all the way to Scotland.” 

He is only half joking with the last one. Harry is shifting from one leg to another, setting his glasses better on his nose, and running his fingers through his hair. Sirius is not sure if he is even listening to what he says, or if he has gotten lost in his thoughts again. 

“Don’t forget to let a niffler loose in Dumbledore’s office, it would make him very happy.” 

“Yeah yeah”, Harry answers absentmindedly and Sirius keeps himself from laughing only barely. He taps the boy’s shoulder to get his attention back, and crouches down to hug him. Harry buries his face on Sirius’s shoulder, his heartbeat pounding like a small animal against Sirius’s own. 

“I love you”, Sirius says quietly. 

“I love you too”, Harry answers. His face is full of determination, as he grips the handle of his trunk and looks towards the bright red locomotive. Sirius kisses him on both cheeks before finally letting his son go. He stays long enough to see the train leaving the station, and only once he is alone in the sunny central London, he starts to sob.

why don’t we talk about muslim kids in hogwarts during ramadan? imagine waking up at 3 every morning and walking down for suhoor, to find the house elves have prepared a feast for them. imagine the kids having an extended curfew, so they can go and eat iftar at 10, where the house elves once again provide a ten course meal, topped with dates and traditional delicacies from around the world. imagine the kids being allowed to go into the kitchens in the middle of the night if they were still in the mood to eat. imagine the kids being allowed to leave class to do their prayers, and spending lunch times to read the quran. we need to talk more about muslim kids in hogwarts.

if i cry you cry with me too

The brothers Black

It's late. He should go to sleep. He has Harry to look after now, he should set a better example.

The said teen is sitting on the floor beside him, and for a moment Sirius is caught in the nostalgia of just how much Harry reminds him of himself.

It's a bad thing, really. He wasn't the best guy around. Hell, Sirius thinks he was probably a menace to even think about. Harry, Harry is better. Sirius remembers picking up the newborn Harry Potter in his hands and hugging him. Sirius remembers closing his eyes and apologising to the ghost of a dead Regulus because Sirius had never hugged his baby brother as much as he deserved.

Sirius puts off his cigarette and runs a hand down his face. Fuck.

Reggie.

Beside him, Harry looks at him with worried eyes. "We don't have to continue, Sirius," he says, perceptive boy. "I can leave—"

"Not necessary, kid," he says, pulling out the last of photos from the shoe box. Harry shuffles closer, almost cuddling him. Sirius quietly points out the people he never got to see grow older. Marlene, her puns and her affinity for everything yellow. Pandora, her heart and her necessity to constantly have chocolates on her person. Dorcas, her loud army boots and bright sundresses.

The last photo in his hand doesn't belong in the shoebox.

It's Reggie and him, Sirius has his brother in his arms and his lips pressed to Reggie's head, eyes closed tight. But it's Sirius, he knows this moment.

Three weeks before Sirius started Hogwarts, Reggie was sure that Hogwarts would steal his brother from him.

(Didn't it?)

Poor boy had been promising to be the best brother in the world, begging Sirius to keep loving him.

Sirius doesn't know when tears blurred his eyes but the ache in his chest comes back full force at his brother's innocent face, still red because of crying and eyes scrunched up close behind Sirius' hand. Sirius was supposed to protect him. Keep his eyes closed, never show him the blood and death that was carved into their fate.

"Regulus." Harry breathes beside Sirius and even the boy sounds pained. He leans further into Sirius and Sirius. Sirius is a greedy man. He takes the opportunity with desperation and puts his arm around Harry's shoulder, pulls him in.

(Everyone he touches will turn out dead. But Harry can't be dead, no, that's his boy, that's his child, he can't, no, not his boy—)

As they've done with every other picture, Sirius turned the photo behind to read who clicked it and when, even if he remembers the dates like they're tattooed on his spine.

But the back of the photo isn't only that. It reads,

Dearest Siri,

I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am. For the first time in my life, words fail me. I've failed everything you've ever tried to teach me— all in for a blind wish that was always impossible.

I've heard your silence, I've heard your screams and it seems that it's all I can remember. I am your shadow, no matter how much mother and father try to force the fact to be false. I want your presence, brother. I do not know how to exist without you. It is the only demand I can still make from fate— for even fate will have to pry you from my dead hands.

You are my brother. You are an ache in my chest and nowadays, I only ever breathe to feel this ache. The letters you've written to me are in my room, you will know where. The letters I've never sent you will be there. Burn them, Siri. I am going down a path of betrayal— towards you, towards our name, towards James, towards the Dark Lord as well. Of all the betrayals I've committed, my biggest regret will be not seeing you before I walk towards death.

Remember me, Siri. Let me stay alive with you. Let me take a part of you as I die.

Yours,

RA Reggie.

Clicked by Andromeda, 18/8/71

Panic burns through Sirius and he's heaving— choking on his tears and sobs and gasps.

His brother. His baby brother. He clutches the photo tighter and cradles it to his heart and wails. Regulus.

The ache in his chest blooms anew and Sirius wants to claw at his chest and find that piece of Regulus that's always lived beside Sirius' heart. Brother. My brother. My only brother. My little brother.

Regulus. Regulus. Reggie. Reggie. Reggie. Baby. Reg. Ree. Reg. Reggie.

Sirius slams his fist on the floor and he welcomes the pain that comes with it, his sobs almost cover the thuds his fist is making and he doesn't want to live. His brother. An open wound in his chest, his brother. Sirius wants to burn himself alive, like Reggie wanted to burn those letters.

"My brother." He wails, not sure if anyone will understand what he's saying but he doesn't expect them to, no one will ever understand just what his brother is, was.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Sirius heaves again. He has failed everyone he cared for, and he failed his blood the most. His boy, his brave Reggie.

Harry doesn't speak but keeps his hold on Sirius' elbow and Sirius wishes he would choke him or plunge his hand in Sirius' chest and drag his heart out— Reggie died with a wish to see Sirius, his poor brother, his baby, his Reggie— he doesn't want to live knowing how Reggie suffered and sobbed.

Because even if his brother is dead, Sirius is alive and thus, so is Reggie. Sirius can feel the sobs that must have wrecked Reggie, he can hear all the whimpers Reggie had to subside because he couldn't wake Mother and he can feel all the bile in his throat that his brother must have thrown up during one of his panic episodes.

And now, Harry rises up on his knees and holds Sirius— as Sirius was holding Reggie in that photo. As Harry's hand covers his eyes, Sirius feels the darkness that must have been the last thing Reggie saw.

Idk y hes stealing Molly's lines but I do know i love this

“have you gone from me?”

Sirius voice is soft, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Harry’s pale face as he lets out a groan. The boy’s thin limbs twitch from the lingering effects of the Cruciatus.

“No, I’m here,” Harry mutters. “Fuck. This hurts like hell. No wonder they call it an Unforgiveable. I sure as hell won’t be forgiving Bellatrix any time soon.”

Sirius doesn’t crack a smile. “I’m gonna call Pomfrey. The potion shouldn’t be letting you feel anything.”

“No wait,” says Harry through gritted teeth. “I think that’s the last of it.” Indeed, as soon as he’s done speaking, his arms and legs still.

Sirius lets out a sigh of relief. “You hurting anywhere else?”

“No. I think Pomfrey gave me enough to knock out an threstral.”

Sirius’ lips twitch. “Then should I be concerned that you’re still conscious?”

“Nah. I’m always an anomaly when it comes to healing.” Despite his words, Harry’s head starts to loll to the side and his breathing begins to slow. Sirius reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Sirius says quietly. Harry cracks one eye open.

“I’d be concerned if you did,” he responds. 

Sirius’ face darkens. “Next time I see her, she’s dead.” 

“Good,” Harry breathes, the word barely intelligible as he drifts into unconsciousness.

“Have you gone from me?” Sirius whispers, eyes locked on the still face of his child. There’s no response. Sirius leans forward and kisses his forehead. He rises up out of his chair, untangling his fingers from Harry’s now-lax hand, and moves towards the door.

“Not my kid, you bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he strides out of the hospital wing, wand in his hand.