Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me.
Written as a very belated present for the wonderful Exceeds Expectations!
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The war is over.
No one thinks to tell her about Sirius's return from the Veil for four months. Why should they? she thinks as she bandages another sluggishly healing injury from the Last Battle. Why should they think he means anything to me?
On a trip into London, she finds herself at Grimmauld Place later that day. Poppy knows the secret - Poppy's always known Sirius's secrets. Still, she can't bring herself to knock. Her hands shake like an old woman's; is she one, now? She doesn't want to think about that. So she takes a deep breath and walks away.
She doesn't see Sirius in person until a building crew arrives to work on the Great Hall.
"Poppy!" calls Minerva, stepping into the Hospital Wing. The Headmistress is tired and everyone can see it, but she refuses any Dreamless Sleep. Crutches like that are for people who can't cope, she explains.
"Yes, yes?"
Minerva ushers Poppy out into the corridor, saying something in her crisp way about the hourglasses hopping about the castle and refusing to be restored. Poppy doesn't ask the obvious question of what this has to do with Healing, but just follows her old friend down to the Great Hall.
And then the doors open and Minerva's ducking off to the side. Poppy stops and almost asks what's going on, but she stops.
She sees him and she forgets to speak, think, breathe. "Sirius," she says, but not in a questioning way. Her eyes have never tricked her before.
He smiles. It's not the same but it's a smile. "Poppy."
They stand a few meters away for a moment. Poppy breathes. Minerva steps over and puts her hand on Poppy's shoulder.
Poppy looks at her colleague and friend, who smiles.
"Go," Minerva says. Poppy realizes then that Minerva knows, and has probably known for a while, all the time never saying anything. She smiles at Minerva's retreating back.
Poppy takes one step forward, two, three, a stumbling run. Sirius meets her halfway with his arms just so and her head fits right in the hollow of his shoulder and he strokes her hair. Her heart beats. His heart beats. They breathe.
"I wanted to see you," he says in a rushing breath, a whoosh out. "I thought maybe things have changed. I've changed. The war…"
"War always makes things different." Poppy looks up at him. "But it could never change this."
"This," he says.
She smiles self-consciously. "I love you," she says.
He unwraps his arms from around her to cup her face with his scarred hands. His eyes are still haunted, but when they look at her, they are not quite Azkaban-hollow.
"I'm sorry I've made you wait so long to hear it," he says. "But you always knew, didn't you? Knew before I did, anyway."
They breathe. His hand trails from her face over her neck and squeezes her shoulder. She raises her own hand to trace the curve of his jaw.
"I love you," he says.
The war is over.