A/N: This is a gift for one of my mutuals! She recently got me back into Harry Potter, and I'm looking forward to writing more for it! Anyways sorry this is literally three months late.
Takes place over the Christmas break in order of the phoenix!
"Move that one up a bit, could you Harry?"
Lifting his wand, Harry carefully raised the string of lights, attempting to hook it onto the wall bracket around the top of the room. The trick was to do so without dislodging the other end, which was balancing precariously, Sirius holding it in place. The lights, unlike the electronic ones Harry had grown up with, glowed of their own accord, dim colours which illuminated the ceiling. They were still attached to a string, but Harry presumed it was more for organisation purposes.
"You've almost got it," Sirius said encouragingly, looking up to where Harry had aimed his wand, "a little higher and a bit more to the right."
Harry did as he was told, and felt a slight tug as they latched to the hook.
"Got it?" He asked. Sirius nodded,
"Let's hope so. If these come down they'll bring an age's worth of dust with them," he answered, grinning at Harry.
They were both standing in the entrance hall to Grimmauld Place, feet planted firmly on the floor as they tried to decorate the room without use of a ladder. Neither had much experience with adorning of any form, and though the charms were simple in theory, the practical side was less so. Their earlier attempts had almost sent several paintings crashing to the floor, much to Sirius's amusement. Mrs Weasley on the other hand had not been happy, which halted the pair's progress as they waited for her to leave.
Most of the house's inhabitants had left to visit Mr Weasley, who was slowly but surely healing. After his unprecedented tangle with Muggle medicine, he was recovering better, but Molly wanted to be there to oversee his medical decisions. Sirius still couldn't leave for fear of being recognized, and Lupin had been too tired to go. Harry had also opted out of this trip, having only the night before overcome his short stint of terror. He was still feeling jittery from the dream, racking his memories for any gaps. He was yet to find any of the symptoms Ginny had described, and was happy to, for the time being, accept that Voldemort was not possessing him.
"Okay. On three," Sirius said. They both prepared themselves, holding the light steady. Sirius gave the countdown, and they gently lowered it. For a moment Harry didn't think it would hold, but apart from a sprinkling of dust that came down from the ceiling, they stayed in place. Tentatively, Sirius let his wand sink to his side. Then he beamed. Harry took this as a sign that they had succeeded, and put his wand into his pocket.
"Perfect! Wait until the others get back, it finally looks less dark."
"Let's hope Mrs Weasley doesn't mind about the floors," Harry said, looking down to the coating of dust. Sirius looked down too, raising his eyebrows.
"Perhaps dusting first would've been better," he answered, "but I suppose we'll manage."
He looked up at Harry, who was surprised to see his smile widening.
"What?"
"The floor isn't the only thing which will need a dust before the others get back," he said. Harry raised a hand to his head, and it came back grey. Sirius walked over to him and ruffled his hair, "I don't think you'll need to wash, as long as you change before they get back."
"I can do that. As long as you sweep the floor," Harry added. Sirius nodded,
"Cheeky, but yes I can do that," he laughed.
The two made their way down the stairs, to the front door. Sirius started along the corridor, but something caught Harry's eye. The paper, once more bearing his name, sitting on a table, half-hidden under other letters. He picked it up slowly, almost wishing he hadn't seen it. He'd been doing his best to avoid the press, but when it was sitting right in front of him he could not help but check.
He began to scan the front page article, a pit forming in his stomach. Flashes of words were enough to piece it together.
'Harry Potter'.
'St Mungo's'.
'Weasley attack'.
Before he could get further however, the paper was snatched away. He hadn't even gotten to finish the first two sentences.
"You don't need to see that," Sirius said quickly.
"Maybe I do," Harry replied stiffly. He stood still, staring at the paper as Sirius quickly folded it, shoving it into his pocket. "If it's about me then I want to know."
"As your guardian, I'm not going to let you."
"It's not like I couldn't buy it myself if I wanted to. I know what they say Sirius, you showed me," Harry argued. "Has it gotten that much worse since summer?"
The pit in his stomach grew deeper when he saw his godfather's expression. "It has?" Sirius lowered his eyes.
"Harry I don't think- "
"What are they saying now? Is this about the attack?"
"Harry, I'm not going to tell you what it's about. If you desperately want to read it, then I'll give it to you. But can we wait until we've cleaned up at least?"
Harry thought about it for a minute, pausing. He did not particularly want to have to learn what the entire world now believed, not when it was so against him.
"Okay. I might read it later though."
"You know I don't want to hide the truth from you, right?" Sirius said, gently putting his hands on Harry's shoulders, "there's a fine line between protective and overbearing."
"I know."
Sirius looked at him earnestly for a moment, then pulled away. He took the paper out his pocket, held it up for Harry to see, and put it back on the table. Slinging his arm around Harry, they walked into the dining room, heading to the kitchen.
Sirius turned on the tap, washing his own, slightly less dirty, hands. Harry shrugged off his cloak and took off his glove, turning the back of his hand away, covering it with his jacket. He laid it gently beside the sink, then waited until Sirius had finished. Submerging his hands in the water, he scrubbed off as much as he could, cleaning all the marks from the morning's toil away. At least they could now say that it has been successful, the house was brightly lit and far less morbid.
Harry, his spirit slightly dampened from yet another snippet of bad news, didn't really feel like talking as much. But Sirius was able to fill the silence well enough, managing to goad him back into conversation.
"Make sure you get everything off." He said, midway through speaking. Harry had forgotten about his present task, but when he realised what Sirius was gesturing to his heart stopped.
He quickly turned his hand away and wiped it hurriedly, as if removing dust. Then he grabbed a towel and dried it, turning away. Sirius held his hands out for the towel and Harry passed it over, making sure only his fingers were visible. Then he went to grab his glove, something he had managed to pass off as a 'fashion statement', which, along with Ron and Hermione wearing one too to back him up, had dissuaded everyone from being concerned. Sirius had even taken to teasing Harry about following the so-called 'trend'.
But this time he wasn't quick enough, and Sirius must have seen the flash of pink-silver as Harry pulled the glove on.
"What's that?"
"Hm?" Harry replied nonchalantly, turning away again.
"That, on your hand?"
Harry turned his right hand to Sirius, showing him the back.
"Dust? I'm not sure, I- "
"On your other hand," Sirius interrupted. Harry looked at him blankly, keeping his breathing steady.
"I don't know, it's probably dirt, I'll clean it late- "
"Harry. Show me your hand."
Harry turned to face Sirius, who was leaning on the counter next to him. His face left no room for argument, and Harry could see no way of escaping the situation with the cover-up story intact. Slowly, he took off the glove, holding his hand up. He still kept the palm facing Sirius, in the final hope that his godfather would pass it by. But Sirius very gently took Harry's wrist, turning his hand over and holding it in his own.
A complex mix of emotions flitted across his face, and Harry tried to keep his own face clear. He kept his breathing steady, waiting for Sirius to say something. But when his godfather made no move, only stared intently at the words on Harry's hand, Harry couldn't help but break the silence.
"I- I just scratched myself, it was- "
Sirius's eyes snapped up.
"Tell me you didn't do this?"
Harry took the opportunity quickly, hoping to divert the attention away.
"Yeah, I mean I just- yeah, yeah, I- "
Harry stopped himself. Sirius looked at him, badly controlled fury written across his face. He took a breath.
"No. No you didn't," he said quietly. Harry tried to pull his hand away, but Sirius had it held firmly.
"I- I don't know, I- "
"Harry. You are going to tell me who in the hell did this," Sirius said, voice trembling ever so slightly.
Harry stuttered, unsuccessfully grasping at ideas.
"I- I don't..."
"Was it someone at school?"
"No, no it wasn't- "
Harry trailed off. That excuse was null given that he had not been anywhere since Hogwarts for the past months.
"Well I doubt that it was your aunt and uncle. Though if it was then you can damn well expect me to- "
"No! It wasn't them. It's just- it's just a scratch, I don't know, I- "
"So who was it?"
Harry couldn't think of a way to word himself out this one. All the preparation to hide it, hours of brainstorming ways to cover the scars, gone down the drain. A simple mistake had undone it all.
"I- "
Sirius must've picked up on the fact that Harry was growing increasingly unresponsive, because he loosened his grip, closing his eyes. He rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"Harry, I'm not angry at you, and I need a while to think this through. But I am not leaving until you tell me who did this. And why."
"It- " Harry began. He stopped, bracing himself. "You know how I had... Well, I had... detentions..."
"Yes, with the Umbridge woman?"
Harry nodded, but couldn't bring himself to say anymore. And he saw the exact moment that the dots connected together in Sirius's mind.
"You..? You said she was making you do lines!"
"Uh. Technically they were lines," Harry replied. Sirius, at long last letting go of Harry, raised his hands to his head.
"Lines? Harry James Potter, I am not going to stand here listening to you tell me that this is- "
"They were lines, I swear. Just... she used a different quill. She wouldn't let me use my own."
"Oh please, for the love of god, tell me that she didn't use a Blood Quill on you?"
Harry stared at him blankly. Sirius waved his hands around, "You know, did it cut into your skin?"
"Uh... yes?" Harry answered reluctantly. He saw Sirius's face morph into one of even greater panic. "But it didn't hurt too much. It was okay."
"Okay? It's okay that one of your teachers has been torturing you for the past months?"
"To be fair, I- "
"Why didn't you tell me? Or anyone? Does anyone know? Does Dumbledore know? It's his job to look after you, I trusted him to take care- "
Sirius's voice was getting gradually louder, and Harry knew he would continue if he did nothing.
"Sirius! Sirius it's fine, it doesn't matter that much, it didn't even hurt- "
"Harry!" Sirius began, then lowered his voice. He had almost raised to a yelling level. Harry hadn't heard him sound like this since the night where they'd first met, in the shrieking shack. When Harry had truly believed him to be slightly unhinged.
Of course Harry didn't believe that now, but he had no doubt that Sirius would be incredibly terrifying if he was to get on the wrong side of him. Which Umbridge was about to be now.
"Harry," Sirius began again, "let me just get this straight. You have put up with weeks of torture, gaslighting, and pain, only to tell me that it 'did not hurt?'"
"It wasn't really gaslighting, just -"
Sirius took Harry's hand again, and though Harry once more tried to pull away it was a weak attempt.
"Harry. You are being gaslighted," he reiterated, then paused thoughtfully, "did she tell you not to tell anyone?"
"I- I..." Harry started, "no. No she didn't."
"Then why on earth didn't you tell me?"
"I thought- I thought -"
It all sounded like a very flimsy argument now that Harry had to say it out loud, especially to Sirius. He looked away.
"I didn't want to give her any satisfaction. I thought if she knew that she'd got to me then she'd..."
"She would?"
"I don't know. I don't know Sirius, I- "
"Oh for god's sake," Sirius said exasperatedly. He turned away, sitting on the nearest chair and leaning on the table.
"Sirius, I'm sorry- I didn't mean for it to- "
"Don't you dare apologize. This isn't your fault, though you should've told me. Or someone."
"I- I don't know why I didn't."
"I just need to sort this out. We can sort this out. Has she been doing this to just you?"
"I- I think? She's given others detention but they don't come out like me."
"Ron? Hermione? They've been wearing gloves."
"Yeah. That was part of our coverup."
"Right. You really thought this through that much?"
Harry grimaced.
"Maybe."
"You can talk to me, you know? Even if you just write it down. Send me a letter next time. Or, I don't know, talk to Remus or Molly at least," Sirius said. He stepped closer to Harry, once more taking his hand. Harry didn't resist this time, but let his godfather examine the words carved permanently into his skin. Sirius looked at them again for a moment, and Harry was struck with a sudden fear that he'd start shouting again, he certainly looked as if he wanted to. But instead he, seemingly subconsciously, pulled Harry closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and running a hand through his hair gently.
Harry leaned into the touch for once, resting his forehead against Sirius's chest. He closed his eyes and let out a breath.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he whispered. Sirius pulled away, Harry almost regretfully letting him go, only to find his godfather's hands cupping his chin.
"It's not your fault what that- that bitch did to you," he said, ignoring Harry's flinch at the curse, "and I am going to sort this."
He let go, and, before Harry had time to properly steady himself, Sirius walked out of the room. Blinking, Harry waited a second, at least he waited until he realised what Sirius was planning to do.
"Sirius? Sirius, wait- " Harry called, jogging after him, trying to keep up with the longer strides, "- you can't!"
"Remus?" Sirius yelled, making Harry jump. They waited, Harry hoping that Lupin hadn't heard. They received no reply, and Harry tugged on Sirius's sleeve.
"Please, I can ask her to stop when I get back, we don't need to -"
"Remus?" Sirius yelled again, ignoring Harry, "Get down here! This is important- "
"Sirius, we don't need to make a- "
"A scene?" Sirius finished, finally directing his attention back to Harry, "I would damn well want to make a scene if this was happening to me- "
Harry looked down, his hands by his side. He noticed absently that he had forgotten his glove in the kitchen. It looked like his secret was about to be out, whether he went to cover the marks or not. From the sounds of it, it would be soon, given the noise of Lupin coming down the stairs. But, despite that, he still felt a need to cover up.
As he walked back slowly, holding his wrist carefully, staring at the scars in something akin to disgust, he tried to shut out the whispered conversation that echoed down the hall. He didn't know why they were bothering to hush their voices. He knew it was about him, and he felt an anxious jittering in his stomach at the thought of Lupin finding out too.
He pulled the cloth over his hand, then sat on one of the chairs at the table to wait. Undertones of conversation still drifted his way, so he stared blankly into space to avoid thinking about it. He couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or anxiety running through him. Or perhaps it was both. But, even while he blocked the notion from his mind, the idea that both Sirius and Lupin knew that he couldn't stand up for himself, that he had let himself be walked over for months, made his stomach turn. He would've preferred anyone else, anyone except the two men he probably looked up to beyond all others.
After what seemed like an hour, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, Sirius entered. Harry looked up, expecting to see Lupin follow. But Sirius shut the door behind him, leaving the two blissfully alone. Sirius grabbed a chair and sat beside Harry, who was still hunched over in his own chair.
"You told Lupin?" Harry asked, when the pause grew too long to bear.
"Yes, I did," Sirius replied, "but, Harry, he's not going to tell anyone. He offered to come sit with you, but I said we needed a minute."
"What else do I have left to say? I've told you everything," Harry said bitterly, not meeting Sirius's eyes.
"It's not what you have to say that I'm interested in, so much as if you're okay."
Continuing to gaze at the floor, Harry didn't look up yet. He didn't want to see the concern, or the anger, which Sirius was practically radiating. Even though the anger wasn't directed at him specifically, it was his own fault for being so careless with hiding. Maybe he should have covered up the scars differently, a charm perhaps…
"Harry," Sirius prompted, "please. I need to know that you're okay."
Eventually, Harry raised his eyes, surprised to find them blurry. His arms felt leaden, so he didn't wipe the tears away. The drops fell onto the table, splashing on the wooden surface.
"I- "
"Oh Harry," Sirius whispered, even as he leant forward and once more wrapped Harry in his arms. Harry buried his face in the fabric of Sirius's shirt, allowing the material to absorb the tears. Sirius rested a hand gently on Harry's head.
"I'm going to sort this out," he muttered, "I promise."
Neither made an effort to move, and Harry allowed himself to be completely absorbed in the interaction. Pushing away all thoughts of what may happen next, Harry's mind drifted away, comforted by the knowledge that he was, for once, safe.
A/N: As always reviews are very much appreciated! It felt kind of unfinished lol, so this is going to become a longer fic! Tell me if you want to see anything in particular!
Have a lovely day/night!
