A week into the summer holidays, after OOTP.
Harry's POV.
I remember his smile, his eyes, his laugh, his voice and his face. Whenever I saw his face one thought would enter my head 'home.' Because when I was with Sirius, I felt like I was home. If we're in a house, Hogwarts, a street, Kings Cross, on a train, even in Knockturn Alley, I felt at home. Because Sirius was my home. And a home never left. It just didn't. How very wrong I was.
I remember his eyes, the way they used to sparkle every time he saw me. The way they would light up every time I entered the room, as if I was a Christmas present he'd been waiting for all his life. I remember how he would ruffle my already messy hair, how he would wink at me, how he would rest his hand on my shoulder, how I would sometimes catch him staring at me with a small smile on his face.
I remember his smile, the way it would make him look like the man at my parents wedding, as if he'd never met Azkaban. The way it would always widen whenever he saw me. How it wrinkled his pale blue eyes, alight once again with mischief.
I also remember his laugh, how whenever it was set off, everyone else seemed to join in. I remember how it would be loud and careless, how it was slightly hollow from his time with the Dementors.
I remember his voice, how he had sang throughout the house on the days before Christmas.
I remember his face, just as alive and hole as when he sat in Grimmauld Place, but then the image would change to a look of shock, as his body fell into the vial...
I miss Sirius. And I always will. There will forever be a hole in my heart, where Sirius had once been, alive, laughing and hole. But now, it is empty. And it will never be filled again.
For my godfather, Sirius Black, is dead.
And I missed him.
A Hero Never Truly Dies
