Title: Us
He was grateful, every day, that he still had the picture from his parents' wedding. That he was able to stare at that cheeky grin, the eyes framed with crinkles of laughter, the too-short black hair.
Sirius smiled at him, waved. Harry always waved back. Comforted, he told himself, ignoring it. After all, it's easier to ignore what isn't there.
And then, one day, when he'd need Sirius's comfort most, when he'd gaze hungrily into the pale eyes, he'd see it.
The absence of that spark. The lack of recognition.
The Sirius in that picture didn't know Harry at all.