hello! i havent written anything in a loooong time, and its been even longer for the hp fandom. as is pretty obvious for anyone who's seen my works (esp over on ffn) i adore adore adore sirius black and i really think jkr gave him the worst lot in the whole series. ootp has always made me mad w how molly and hermione keep treating sirius, so this is kind of a fix it moment, i guess? idk

this was originally completely sans punctuation and capitalisation bc it's a notes app drabble (somehow that's the only way i can write these days? like i tried doing my usual g docs routine but nothin came out) and i kind of liked it the way it was, buuuut i uploaded it that way on ao3 and decided to do a 'proper' version here on ffn (that one feels more raw? but it's also a bit harder to read imo and the ffn interface isn't best for unpunctuated works i feel) so yeah!

hope u like!

The deathly silence was broken by a bark-like laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh, exactly. Rather, it was filled with incredulity and felt like broken glass.

'You think I consider Harry to be a replacement for James?' Sirius wheezed out in disbelief, unsure where to even begin with that, 'What a way to announce you have no clue what the fuck you're talking about, Molly Weasley.'

The others in the room looked at each other, unsure about what to do, half scared that the ex-convict had finally lost it. Harry, for his part, just looked lost and a bit devastated.

'I-well-it's quite clear that you do,' Molly spluttered, never one to back down, 'the way you want to include him in everything despite knowing it's unsafe, treating him like he's your partner in crime-'

A large hand slapping on the kitchen table with a resounding 'clap' stopped her in her tracks before she could go any further.

'Molly. Let me say this once for you, and all the others in this room who believe the same thing.' Here his gaze travelled from a rapidly reddening Molly Weasley, to a defiant Hermione Granger, a quietly apologetic Remus Lupin (and boy, didn't that one hurt? but he should get used to betrayal from that corner of the room by this point, shouldn't he?) and most importantly, a bewildered and somewhat hurt Harry Potter (if he wasn't here, Sirius wouldn't even bother defending himself but Harry…Harry is the most important person, he needs to know the truth if no one else. He needs to know that Sirius has never, not once, thought of him as having James back. Sirius couldn't stand to knowingly hurt his baby boy).

'Harry is not, and never could be, a substitute for James. You know how I can say that with such certainty?' He asked rhetorically, smiling with his teeth, looking for all the world like the deranged mass murderer he was thought to be.

'I know this because James Potter is…was my brother in all ways that matter. I knew him better than anyone else on this godforsaken planet, often even himself. and fifteen years after his death, I can still remember everything about him with painful clarity. I do not need his son to remember him because I can do that well enough on my own.' Now that he'd started, he wasn't going to stop himself from saying all that he'd wanted to, everything he'd kept pushed down to avoid situations exactly like this.

I've spent 12 years in Azkaban. Do you people realise what that means?' Casting a look at everyone in the room once more, he knew that no one quite understood what that particular experience included. Fair enough, he supposed, why would they? The average wixen never even saw a dementor in their life, let alone stayed around long enough to feel their debilitating effects.

'It means that for 12 long years, I've had my worst memories and all my mistakes replayed in my head. There. Was. No. Relief. My nightmares were plagued by them and every waking moment was equally torturous. For 12 goddamn years, I did not go one day without seeing the dead body of my brother behind my eyes.' He saw the startled looks at that and smirked, though it was a cold dead thing.

'Oh, you didn't know? I was the first one on the scene that night,' Try as he might, he couldn't sound as flippant as he wanted to. It was the night his world collapsed around him, how could he? 'I entered the house and saw James' body. I was the one who closed his eyes and straightened his glasses. I was the one who felt the life and warmth slowly leave his body, leaving him cold and clammy and still in a way James Potter never was. That image has never left me, it's practically imprinted in my mind, and it's filled with so much grief and pain that it was practically cannon fodder for the dementors to flock around me.'

He knew he shouldn't, that he should take pity at least on Remus and the kids but he took some kind of vindictive glee in the disturbed expressions that passed over everyone's faces, particularly Remus and Molly. It would serve them well to realise that he had spent over a decade in a place called 'hell on earth'. It hadn't earned that title for its stellar room service, after all.

However, looking at Harry in front of him, shaking and horrified, he felt the first pang of regret at his cruelty. This was the son of the dead man he was currently describing as if he had no care in the world. Wanting to hurt others was nowhere near as important as ensuring Harry was alright, and he hated himself just a little bit more at that moment for forgetting that once more.

Lurching forward, he clasped a hand on his godson's shoulder, clutching almost desperately, 'I'm so sorry Harry, I wasn't thinking,' he murmured earnestly, because seeing his pup in pain has always got his hackles up, and this time was no different.

Before he could beat himself up any further, though, Harry took a shaky breath and squeezed the hand on his shoulder with his own, wordlessly accepting the apology.

(Sometimes, Sirius couldn't believe how unfailingly kind this boy turned out to be. It was one of the many reasons why Sirius never once forgot that Harry James Potter was his own man. Neither of his parents was that forgiving, that kind; they had a mean streak a mile wide, both of them, and anyone who knew them knew about it. this-this unconditional kindness was something that was all him.)

Getting back to the others around the table, Sirius tried to bring the conversation back on track, 'So. I know full well that James Potter is dead and gone. I also know that him and Lily gave me the most important duty of my life and that was to be this little one's godfather,' he sent an affectionate look towards said boy, chuckling lightly at the way his ears reddened, 'I have been a part of Harry's life and him a part of mine, since before you even knew he existed, Molly, so I'd thank you to stop acting like you're the only one who cares about him.'

Here, he hesitated, not wanting to divulge something so deeply personal but knowing that there was at least one person here who could, and needed to, listen to it. Despite trying his best to hide it from others, it was quite clear to Sirius right from the beginning that Harry's childhood mirrored his own rather than James' (and didn't that thought make him want to burn down the whole country? that his pup was treated like anything but the fucking prince he was) and if there was anything children like that had in common, it was the thought that they were unloved and unwanted. Sirius would peel his own skin off before he let his precious godson believe that about himself, and so what was a little embarrassment and emotional word vomit in the face of reassuring his kid?

'It's very easy to lose your mind in Azkaban,' he began carefully, 'even being an animagus isn't enough. Sure, I was better off than others, but that wasn't saying much. The transformation was a form of magic, which meant it required energy. In a place where you're fed gruel twice a day, you'd be hard-pressed to gain a lot of energy, yes?'

He kept his eyes on Harry throughout the whole thing and when he saw the pain that entered the boy's eyes at his words, a rush of fondness ran through at him (how was he so good?) and squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly.

'So, it wasn't all that helpful. knowing that I was innocent, that wasn't a happy thought so the dementors couldn't take it away, but even that was scant comfort in those hellish conditions. and so, you know what got through me each day? What stopped me from becoming a screaming, deranged mess like all those other inmates? What helped me retain my sanity in a place designed to make you lose your mind?' Here, he looked directly into the eyes of Molly Weasley, who finally realised that she'd opened a can of worms that she should have left untouched. Oh well. Sirius had no sympathy for her. She could very well deal with the consequences of her actions.

'Harry,' His hand shifted on said boy's shoulder so he could stroke one cheek tenderly with his thumb, 'It was the thought of my little godson, who'd just lost his parents, who'd had his whole world upended, who was taken away to a place he didn't know by people he'd never met that kept me going. What right did I have to give up when he was still alive, when there was even the slightest chance that he could need me someday?'

'Oh, and also the thought of what prongs would do to me in the afterlife because I'd failed my godfatherly duties so bad,' he added dryly, winking at Harry, who let out a wet-sounding laugh. he ruffled his hair quickly, before cutting his gaze back to Molly, whose eyes were glistening with moisture at this point.

'Harry James Potter is my entire world, Molly,' he declared quietly but no less sincerely for it, 'From the moment he was born, he had me wrapped around his finger. I was the first person he blinked his eyes at, the first person he smiled at and who got a laugh out of him. His first word was a mangled attempt at 'padfoot'. I know very well who my godson is, I don't need you or anyone else to tell me that.'

With that, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd said his piece, the ball was in their court now. He knew it was far from over; they hadn't even touched on the whole Order business, and the question of what to tell the kids and Harry, but that was an argument for another day.

For now, he thought as he looked at the quietly pleased look on his godson's face, he'd done the most important thing, which was getting through to Harry about his place in Sirius' life.