Disclaimer: I do not own Sirius, Harry, or any of the other Harry Potter characters, no matter how much I wish I do.
I stand in the empty kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Apparently it belongs to me now, but this will always be my godfather's kitchen.
Looking around, I become conscious of just how big a part this kitchen was in Sirius's life since he returned to the place he so detested. He may not have realized it, but it's true. He may have hid himself away in his mother's old room with Buckbeak a majority of the time, but this kitchen is where the events happened.
The meetings of the Order of the Phoenix took place here. Meetings he participated in, but he knew he couldn't help them any further than offering the house of his family to them. How frustrating it must have been to listen to their plans, watch the others report what knowledge they'd gleaned.
To listen to Snape, sending subtle yet purposeful reminders to Sirius of the fact that he was stuck in the house. Snape goaded him in this kitchen. I watched as he tried to suggest that my godfather had purposely gotten himself seen at the train station so he wouldn't have to leave the house. I'd been sure that Sirius was going to hex him into oblivion, if not seriously maim him, for calling him a coward. Part of me had been afraid that, if I couldn't keep myself between them, he would have tried to kill Snape. But the Weasleys had walked into the midst of the chaos, so no spells were fired.
And Mrs. Weasley's argument with Sirius about whether I should be informed better about what was going on with the Order... She had practically shouted at him that I wasn't my father. Apparently she thought that he was thinking he had James back. And she'd acted like she was the only one in the kitchen who cared about me. She'd gone too far when she brought up the fact that he couldn't look after me while he was in Azkaban, which wasn't his fault at all.
Sirius had to sit in this house for months, probably dwelling the whole time on his undesirable position. It's no wonder he didn't stay in the house when we were fighting in the Department of Mysteries. It was his chance to get out, to do something worthwhile. And he didn't even need to be there. None of them did. I shouldn't have had the dream, I should have listened to Hermione more. But I didn't.
And now he's dead.
This house may belong to me now, but it'll always be my godfather's kitchen.