The Hidden Painting

A few more steps and they stood right in front of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. They didn't ring the doorbell; Remus just took a key out of his pocket and opened the door, stepping aside to let Harry pass.
An icy shiver ran down Harry's spine when the deadly silence welcomed him home.
Home. That's what he'd liked to call this house if he had ever been able to move in with his Godfather. Now it was just an empty house, which gave him memories he wished he could forget.
Remus left him alone with his thoughts. He stood at his side and waited patiently for him to go on. Harry did not know if he had the strength for it, though.
With a small sigh he walked further into the house, his feet leading the way into the kitchen without him realizing it. He sat down at the table, finding himself staring at the now dark fireplace.
Here he had talked for the last time to Sirius. The thought about his father being just as arrogant as Snape had ever told him was the reason for it. His Godfather's words had calmed him slightly without convincing him totally.
Harry's throat and eyes burned but he didn't want to cry, not with Remus around. Remus would have likely understood but the thought of breaking down in front of him was altogether too much for Harry.
The sound of Lupin clearing his throat startled him and he looked up.
"We have to be at the Burrow in three hours. Molly and Arthur are awaiting us. Maybe, we should start?"
He waited for Harry's answer before he left the kitchen again.
Stopping briefly in the almost dark hall, he looked at Harry. Remus could see the sadness and pain in his eyes, caused simply by the fact that they had to come back.
Remus smiled only half-hearted. He wouldn't tell Harry that he felt exactly the same way, being in this house.
They 'd come for Sirius' personal things, which had remained behind.
"Should we go up to his room first?"
Harry was still unable to say anything, fearing his voice would crack and his well-kept control was lost. So he simply nodded in agreement.

The dim oil lamp hardly lit up the room, causing Remus to turn it up a little until they were able to see more. Yet this light helped none for there was nothing to see at all.
It seemed that there was nothing personal except for a few clothes thrown carelessly in two of the drawers.
Harry found one of Hermione's S.P.E.W. badges on the table by the bed. She must have given it to Sirius at Christmas. He remembered them deeply in conversation at one time. He couldn't even smile about it.
"There is nothing here to see. Maybe I can find something in the library or the drawing room."
Remus sent another worried look in Harry's direction but receiving no reply, walked out of the room leaving him alone.
For an endless time as it seemed, Harry stood deeply lost in his thoughts before he slowly walked out of the room. Unsure which way to go, he stopped and listened into the silence. Try as he might, all Harry could hear was the lonely creaking noises from the old wooden floor.He wished he would hear the shrill, angry voice of Mrs. Black yelling at the top of her lungs at Sirius but nothing.
Sirius would never disturb the painting of his mother again, giving her a reason to scream. Harry wasn't even sure if the picture was still at the wall. He vaguely remembered Remus telling him about finding a way to reverse the permanent sticking charm.
Harry wandered along the dark hallway when he reached an even darker stair, leading up what must be the way to the attic. The black hole in the wall with its steep steps seemed to call him and carefully, he took each step up into nowhere. His outstretched hands knocked hard against a wooden door, forcing him finally to take out his wand.
"Lumos!"
The head of a House-elf sat instead of a normal doorknob and stared at Harry with hollow eyes. He turned the knob and the door opened without the expected squeak.
The air smelled dusty and spider-webs covered the ceiling and were spread all over the windows. A rocking horse with a broken nose stood beside a worn leather armchair, too dirty to even be touched. Old tattered robes hung from the ceiling like forgotten signs of another time.
Small footprints were all over the dirty floor and Harry suspected them to be Kreacher's. Sirius had told him that he came up here from time to time to look for more treasures of his beloved Mistress.
An old cupboard stood nearby, its doors wide open and Harry looked inside. Nothing.
The same with an enormous trunk, wearing the emblem of the Black family. A few more or less small boxes bore some broken cups and plates. One was filled with pictures of the noble Black family that had been thrown away by Sirius, Harry remembered. Kreacher had probably taken them out of the bin, hiding them up here.
Harry looked around. There was nothing else up here and he was almost ready to leave when his eyes fell on something in the darkest corner, reflecting dimly the light coming from his wand. He moved closer, his heart beating rapidly. It was a mirror, covered completely by dust and spider-webs.
'The mirror of Erised' Harry thought for a short moment. His hand shot forward and wiped the dirt of the blinded glass, sending waves of dust into the air. He coughed hard before he had a look into the mirror.
Hope left as fast as it had come. His face was the only staring back at him, looking disappointed and at the verge of tears.
Harry kicked out for the useless piece of furniture, his view clouded with now freely streaming tears brought up by his anger. How stupid he was to hope and find a sign of Sirius.
Breathing harshly and almost choking on the water running from his eyes, he watched the mirror fall to the side, loosing its balance and hitting the floor hard before the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, sending up more clouds of dust.
Harry cried for some long minutes, his eyes never leaving the slightly shining remains of the broken mirror. Still upset, he wiped his eyes with anger shaken hands, clearing the blur away caused from all of his tears.
A silent 'Oh' escaped his mouth when he saw something leaning against the wall, hidden before by the large mirror. It had almost the same height as Harry; square in shape and very thin. It looked like a large picture or frame to Harry. Rough blankets were tied with ropes around it, hiding its heart from curious views.
The knots opened with much difficulty but finally they gave way.

His fingers hurt from the effort but he didn't care. Pushing the blankets aside, he revealed a slightly faded painting as he could see by the color of it.
First, he saw only a pair of long legs in tight, black trousers. A hand was pushed at his side, fingers hooked in the once shiny leather belt. The other arm was lifted and the young man leaned with his hand against the wall of a room, lit up by some torches besides his head. His hair fell in large black waves down his shoulders. The almost black eyes looked straight ahead, gleaming with a fire of their own. A mocking smile was spread over his handsome face, showing a lot of confidence.
Harry saw the young man and shadows caused by even more tears clouded his view. He couldn't stop the sobs escaping his chest when he recognized him for who he was.
He thought his eyes had played him a trick when the man's eyes moved and grew large, wiping with it the mockery out of his smile. Now, he looked sad and Harry ought to see a single tear dwelling in the man's right eye.
Blinded by the silvery drops pouring from his own eyes, he reached out with one hand coming slowly closer to the parchment. The hand hooked inside the belt moved and when Harry put his shaking hand flat against the painting, the young man had done the same from inside of it, their palms meeting at the same place.
A tickling ran across Harry's hand and his skin felt pleasantly warm.
"Hello Harry!"
His sobbing increased and he couldn't stop his tears from falling even harder.
"Si-Sirius?"
He knew that it was Padfoot. He looked exactly the same he had in Snape's memories but he simply couldn't believe his eyes.
"Yes."
The smile looked very sad now and the tear rolled slowly down his cheek, leaving a silvery path on his skin.
"Don't cry. There's no need for it."
An angry laughter escaped Harry, so filled with pain it made Sirius' skin crawl by the sound.
"No, isn't it? What do you know, huh? You are dead and it's all my fault."
Sirius didn't answer. Just his thumb moved a bit like he would try and caress his hand to calm him down.
"Don't be silly, Lad, it wasn't your fault."
Harry pulled his hand back quickly, sending a hurt look on Sirius face. Guilt rushed through his veins but no word of excuse came from his mouth.
Sirius folded his arms briskly in front of his chest, leaning with his shoulder against the wall, watching Harry with big eyes.
"You know, I didn't choose to go, I did not want to. But, you didn't shoot me remember? "
He pushed his hair back behind his ears with a quick move.
"I know that I didn't treat you the way that I should have.I always saw James in you whenever I looked at you."
He paused for a moment. Harry just stared at his stricken face with water-filled eyes.
"But you are not James although I tried hard to bring him back. Through you. I was scared that I would forget him. And Lily. But I wanted to remember."
He looked deep in Harry's eyes.
"You are so much more than I admitted. You are brave like your Dad but you are full of cleverness like your Mum was."
Harry's chest heaved from his heart wrenching sobs.
"I… I am not…"
Sirius smiled again, his eyes full of pride.
"Yes you are. You …"
Harry interrupted him, almost yelling into his face.
"I AM NOT. If I would have been as clever as you said, Voldemort had never fooled me. I'd never come to the Ministry and made you come after me. I… I would have not allowed for you to... Being killed!"
His soft little cries stopped his raging words.
"Oh Harry, older and wiser Wizards have been fooled by the dark Lord."
Sirius let out a small sigh.
"James would have done something reckless like always."
Harry looked at him with a startled look on his red face.
"Oh, I don't believe he'd put us in danger on purpose. But sometimes he tended to act first and think afterwards. That's another gift of your Mum, given to you. You were clever enough to find a way all by yourself to London. You had the guts to face Voldemort and his Death-Eater, always caring for your friends when you were in danger, not loosing your head. That is very brave! And clever."
Sirius put his hand flat against the inside of the painting again, smiling at him full of love.
"You know, what you are, Harry? You are your Mum and Dad's heart. The better of them both. They would be really proud of you, Harry. Like I am proud of you."
Harry sobbed even harder. All the pain he had kept inside since the day Sirius went through the veil seemed to fall off of him. All the tears he couldn't cry before flowed freely now.
"I love you. I couldn't love you more if you were my own son, Harry. Always remember that."
Harry couldn't stand up anymore. He fell on the dirty floor, pulling his knees high up to his chest, embracing them with his arms in which he hid his wet face. After a little while he looked at the painting again only to find Sirius on the floor, too, leaning with his back against the stonewall. His hand still reached out for Harry.
Wiping his wet face, he reached slowly for the painting and Sirius' hand. Their palms seemed to meet once more, the same warm sensation spreading through Harry's skin.
They looked at each other, eyes never leaving the other person. Neither of them smiled.
Harry could read in his Godfather's face almost like in a book.
He saw the worried expression on it. Like so many times before, always concerned about his feelings.
He saw something like guilt on it. Because he had left him all by himself behind sooner that he'd planned? He'd probably never tell.
But mostly he saw love. He saw the same love on Sirius face he felt deep inside his heart for the man that was his Uncle and Godfather and Father, all in one person.
He didn't say anything, couldn't think of the right words.
There was no need for it. They understood each other.
Even when they couldn't be together anymore, they would never be apart.
A smile found its way through Harry's tears and when he looked at Sirius face in the painting, he found it returned.
They sat the same way when Remus came into the attic, looking for Harry.

Tbc