Author's Note:
This is my first fic which was originally going to be a one-shot, but I decided to split it in two (and maybe even three) so I could work in smaller pieces between the craziness of my life. My apologies. I hope you're having a wonderful holiday season!
-Rose Olivia

Silence

He let out a strangled, labored sigh, but there were no tears pushing at the corners of his eyes; there hadn't been and he was beginning to doubt they would ever come. His footsteps were muffled on the fading, dusty carpet but he didn't mind the silence. His heart was pounding loud enough in his ears already as his feet carried him through the empty front hall of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He pressed his palm to his chest, trying to feel the steady beating beneath his fingers. It was there, he could hear it, feel it, and yet it was hard to believe his heart hadn't stopped the way his emotions had, the way his thoughts only focused on walking, or responding, or just breathing. He closed his eyes, opened them, just keep going...

His feet led him down softly creaking stairs towards the basement kitchen and when he pushed open the door, he wasn't surprised to see the man sitting at the far end of the table, head cradled in his hands. The figure raised his head abruptly at the sound of the door swinging shut.

"Harry," he said, sounding quite as surprised as Harry vaguely thought he should be. The man stood with an intrusive scraping of wood against stone and hastened toward the door.

"I'm sorry, I... You were at the Dursley's... I'm... I shouldn't have intruded..." Harry noted the dark circles beneath his eyes, the stale odor of alcohol on his breath, and the way his hands fidgeted with the clasp on his cloak.

"I'm... I'll be going now... I was just... I'm sorry."

"Please stay," Harry hardly registered saying the words. The man stilled, amber eyes desperately searching green.

"Remus, please stay," his voice was louder now, insistent.

"I... I'll make us tea," he responded softly. The older man perfunctorily set a kettle to boil, hands moving slowly, not with age, but with a heavy, weary sorrow.

They sat across from each other, Harry studying the patterns in the wood, ignoring the eyes that he could feel flickering from him and then away. When their tea was ready and Remus had placed a mug before him, Harry's eyes followed the steam rising in wisps and swirls. He sipped slowly, savoring the heat sliding down his throat. He had learned to concentrate on the details to kept his mind from wandering.

"Harry, I need to know-" Harry's mug was half way to his mouth but he quickly set it on the table. The noise echoed down the long room. Startlingly green eyes pleaded silently. Remus faltered, a sad smile playing at his lips. It could wait he supposed. Time wasn't going anywhere and of all people, Harry deserved it. He rose silently and retreated to the room he'd been staying in.

Only when the heat had long since left the remains of his tea did Harry make his way upstairs. He stopped at the room he had stayed in with Ron but it was full of a very different set of memories than the ones that plagued him now. His brow knitted as he subdued a surge of anger at the way things had turned out. He flexed his hand, the faint scars of Umbridge's detentions still visible.

Tentative steps carried him instead to Sirius' room. His fingers were gripped tight, his knuckles white in the pale moonlight and his breathing stilted as he took in the photos, the things placed just so on the bedside table, the little bits that suddenly meant so much. He set his things on a chair and slid beneath the red and gold duvet, shivering slightly between the cool, silken sheets. The rustling seemed invasive in the night's silence and sleep was a long time in coming as it seemed to be more and more often.