Sirius
You hate that you can't tell anyone. You never even told him. And then he fell and no one could ever get him back. And, after all, it was your fault.
Ron comes up to you and says that he knows it's hard to lose a parent and if you need anything he will be there. You thank him, but you know that losing a parent is nothing compared to the pain that threatens to overwhelm you.
Hermione comes to talk to you and tells you she has some books on grieving and she thinks that you should talk about your pain. And it would be so easy to let it all out and tell her, but you know you can't. You know she'd get that funny look in her eyes and tell you that it was just you misunderstanding the different kinds of love. The fact that it was from being brought up without it would go unmentioned.
But you know that you weren't misunderstanding the different kinds of love. You knew exactly what kind of love this was and it certainly wasn't paternal. What you have for Remus is paternal, what you have for Sirius is … was … beyond imaginings.
Remus comes to talk to you and tells you that he will be there for you. And you decide that he probably won't look at you pityingly or tell you that you have made a mistake. And the words spill out and suddenly, you've told him everything. How much you love Sirius and how you never told him, in case, he felt differently. You always felt you couldn't live without him and now you have to.
And he sits there and stares at you. Just stares as all your words wash over him. When he finally gets up, he goes over to the cupboard and pours you both a glass of fire whiskey. You remember the stuff from when the Weasley Twins came to visit and brought some two weeks after Siri was no more. You knock the stuff back exactly like you did then and almost smile at the familiar burning sensation. Remus looks startled by your familiarity with fire whiskey, before knocking it back just as you had.
You spend that night swapping stories of Siri together, getting drunker as the night goes on. And other than the terrible hang over the next morning, you feel so much better. Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
When Mrs Weasley comes to you the next day and tells you that she is sorry you have lost another parental figure, you no longer feel the need to scream at her that you wish that was all it was. Now, it suddenly feels like the funniest thing in the world.
You go to Sirius' room and you sit in his seat and lie on his bed and talk to him like he can hear you. And maybe he can. But you are so glad someone, anyone knows. You know you'll tell Hermione and Ron, some day, far in the future. And you wish that you had told Sirius what he meant to you before he died. And the ache still threatens to overwhelm you. But you can still move and walk and breathe and live and at the moment, that is all that matters.
Because that's what you know he'd want you to do.
A/N this is my first Sirry, and my first fic in the second person, so please excuse it if you hate it. If you like it or think there's is something particular I can improve on then PLEASE REVIEW!