Chapter 4.
Harry would never hurt me.
Those five words circle around in his head for hours. He puzzles over them, endlessly dissecting what are surely imaginary layers of meaning.
He thinks about it while pacing around his room. He thinks about it while he burns his dinner and he keeps thinking about it while he orders takeaway to replace it. He thinks about it while he drinks his way through half a bottle of firewhisky and lies on his drawing room floor.
He gets up and goes to lie on his other drawing room floor, still thinking about it.
The obvious meaning is simple: Harry is a good person, he's good to her, she doesn't want to leave him.
But that can't be enough for her. It isn't enough for her, which is why she's with Sirius in the first place. And on its own, it's not a reason to stay with Harry, since Sirius would never hurt her either.
Except that he did. He made her cry. She left here with bruises.
Is that what she meant? Harry would never hurt her, and Sirius did?
That's probably what she meant. But if it is, why would she tell him she liked it? Why didn't she break up with him, tell him he was awful and that she was never coming back?
Unless, when she left, that was her breaking up with him? Was it? It couldn't be. She'd said she loved him, basically.
It gets late, and he's still lying on the floor.
He has to know what she meant. He stands up and marches towards the floo. He's had enough firewhisky that for a moment he truly believes that he should just show up at her flat and demand an answer. But he's forgotten her address, and by the time he finds it, he remembers that she has roommates and it's the middle of the night and showing up would make everything so much worse.
Thank goodness his memory is even worse than his impulse control.
Instead, he calls for his owl and pulls out a slip of parchment.
That's not a reason. I can't sleep if I don't know what you mean.
He doesn't sign it, or explain further. Once the owl leaves, his mind is clearer. He's asked and there's nothing else he can do. He finds it's quite peaceful, waiting for a response. He goes up to bed. She'll answer him, or she won't, and if she does it might not be until morning.
When he's settled and nearly asleep, his owl returns. He jumps to his window at lighting speed. So much for peaceful.
Harry would never hurt me, because he loves me, and he's a good person. He's gentle and careful and protective and he wants to build a future with me and sometimes that feels like a cage. He's too good for me, but I want to be good enough for him, because he deserves it. It's not his fault that the pure, perfect love he gives me makes me feel dead inside.
You make me feel alive. You don't treat me like a fragile thing, in need of protection and care. You challenge me. You're not afraid to hurt me.
And being with you does hurt me, all the time. It makes me feel rage and shame and agony, and Sirius, I'm covered in bruises and I cried again after I left and every time I see you my heart breaks more and more, but I think life is supposed to be like this. I don't think I want to be just fine, just content, safe and protected. It's not enough.
Maybe there's something wrong with me that the only kind of love I want is the kind that hurts me. That can't be normal. But just because I can't leave him, that doesn't mean I can leave you. I need you.
I know we can't go on like this forever. But I'm not ready for things to change yet.
I'm sorry. Burn this letter.
She didn't sign it. He stares at her words, reads the letter three times. Then he casts an incendio.
He watches it, helplessly, as it burns.
Sirius hears Harry come home while he's getting ready for work on Monday morning. He doesn't think he'll be able to look his godson in the eye ever again after the disgusting things he said about him the other night.
But when he gets downstairs and Harry's sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of coffee, it's surprisingly easy. He's just Harry, just like he's always been, looking tired but happy after his weekend of auror training exercises.
"Morning Sirius," he says, yawning. "You off already?"
"Nah, I can sit for a minute." He wasn't planning to, but he doesn't actually need to open the shop this early. He grabs a coffee of his own and sits down.
"I feel like I've hardly seen you lately," Harry says. "Busy at work?"
"Fairly. Not as busy as you, I don't think."
Harry laughs. "That's true, I have been working hard. But I think I could make detective by the end of the year if I keep at it."
A smile floats across Sirius's face. "That's great. Your parents would be so proud of you."
"I hope so," Harry says, looking into his coffee. After a moment, he looks up, a strange twinkle in his eye. "So, what else is new with you?"
"Nothing much," Sirius lies. "Why?"
"No reason, really. You just seem different. Happier, maybe. Or, lighter? I was sort of wondering… if you might be seeing somebody?"
He contemplates how best to tell this particular lie.
"I — Well, okay, sort of. It's new," he says carefully, "but I like her. I don't want to talk about it too much yet."
Harry grins broadly. "I knew it! Hermione always says I never notice anything, but I totally do. What's she like?"
"She's, um, great. Really fun and cool and kind of intense." Sirius smiles, in spite of himself. "She's… a lot younger than me."
"Oh, well, that makes sense."
"Does it?"
"Well, sure. No offence, but you're not the most grown-up yourself. It's not your fault, you lost a lot of years, but…"
"Huh." That does make sense.
"Well, I'm happy for you, mate," Harry says, standing up. "Don't keep it a secret too long though, yeah? I think this could be really great." He claps Sirius on the shoulder as he heads out of the room.
The guilt, always a buzz in the back of his mind, becomes a sharp twist to his heart. There is no version of this that ends without Harry getting hurt. There may not be a way for this to end with his relationship with Harry intact, but he has to try to save what he can.
He's been tearing himself in two, for months now. Ginny. Harry. One version of his life, and the other. Compartmentalization only goes so far.
Ginny was right when she said they can't go on like this forever. He has to chose: One version of his life, one half of himself, or the other.
A few minutes ago, Sirius said that James and Lily would be proud of Harry. He'd meant it. They would be so immensely proud of their son.
They would not be proud of Sirius.
He knows what he needs to do. If he's honest, he's known it all along.
But first, Sirius needs to go to work, because it's Monday and he should be open already.
When he gets to his shop, he has a steady stream of customers for most of the morning. Two maintenance requests, a balding man who will never buy a bike but asks a million questions as if he will, and his young cousin Draco, who already has a bike, but seems to be vaguely considering getting a second, more expensive one.
Sirius has never been so fidgety. He has to do it today, or he never will.
He's practically tapping his foot, he's so impatient. He paces the floor, speaks too fast, bites the inside of his lip.
Finally, at exactly noon, he has a moment. He know it's noon because he can't stop looking at the fucking clock.
He pulls out a quill and writes to Ginny. He asks her if she can come by his shop today and says it's important. He sends his owl off.
Within minutes, he's watching her materialize outside the front window. When she comes in, he turns the sign on his shop door to 'closed' and leads her back to his office.
"Sirius, what are you doing?" she says. "I know we haven't talked in a couple of days and we left things on a pretty intense note, but I meant everything I said, so I'm not sure—"
He interrupts by kissing her. He holds her face in both his hands and drags the kiss out as long as he can, trying to memorize the feel of her lips against his.
"Ginny," he says, still cradling her face in his hands. "I love you."
"Sirius…" She steps back.
"I just wanted you to hear me say it once, for real. Because this is over."
"Sirius," she says again, with a sharp intake of breath.
"I talked to Harry this morning."
"What?" Her eyes go wide.
"I didn't tell him anything," he says hurriedly. "But I noticed him. For the first time in a while, I think. I remembered how important he is to me and I — I thought about James. Even if I was okay with hurting Harry and ruining my relationship with him — which I'm not, or I don't know maybe I am, I've sure been acting like it — I can't do this to James' son. I promised him and Lily before they died that I'd take care of Harry no matter what. I missed so much and I failed so many times, but that's over. I have to grow up sometime, and this is it. I love you, but this is it."
His speech echoes around the office. The room feels cramped and hot.
"Okay," is all she says at first, barely above a whisper. Then, hanging her head: "I'm sorry I ever put you in that position. It was so selfish of me. I'm just awful."
"Hey, no," he says. "You didn't make me do anything. And you're not awful. I read your letter, I know how trapped you feel. I get why you did everything you did and I won't ever judge you for it. Not ever."
There's a pause, and Ginny looks dismayed but says nothing.
"Listen," he says, finding himself on a speech-making roll, "I've never played the I'm-older-than-you card before, but I feel like I have to now. I don't want you to be me in twenty years. I want you to be happy, and more than that, I want you to be whole. I don't want you heart or your soul or whatever to be as broken as mine is. I'm not going to give you real advice, because I don't know a damn thing, but you need to change something about the way you're living your life and you need to do it soon." He heaves in a breath, winded from the effort of his impassioned speech. One more thing: "And, promise me you'll end it with him, soon. You deserve to feel alive."
She nods, wetness pooling at the corners of her eyes. She blinks it away.
He steps forward and wraps his arms around her, unable to resist the pitiable brokenness in the way she's staring at the spot of floor next to his shoes.
"I'll miss you," she murmurs against his ear.
"Me too."
She steps away from him and nods again, a tight smile pulling at her lips. "I should go, then."
"Yeah."
She moves toward the door, and she's standing in front of it, about to open it, when she turns back. "I love you too, you know."
He nods.
She turns to leave again, then stops. "That wasn't fair, before. You knew that was our last kiss and I didn't."
She grabs him by the shirt and pulls him towards her. They melt into each other, kissing desperately, like they're dying.
In a way, they are.
He lets his hand tangle in her hair and she grips the back of his neck and he's letting this go on way too long and —
"Sirius! Are you here? Your front door's —" The office door flies open and he and Ginny jump apart, not quite fast enough.
It's George Weasley.
His mouth opens and closes several times. "I'll come back later, then."
He turns on his heel and marches swiftly out of the shop.
"Fuck," Ginny says. "Fuck! I'll go after him, I'll explain."
She runs. Sirius is left behind, again.
He paces around his closed shop for several hours. He doesn't hear from Ginny, or anyone. It's not like he can stay here forever, but he can't go home either. He can't go home ever again. The patch of bravery he experienced earlier today has vanished, and in it's place is nothing but the usual cowardice.
How could this have happened? It was over! He did the right thing, for once in his fucking life.
And yet, somehow, he can't go home.
He could go to Hogwarts, get Hagrid to lend him Buckbeak, go live in a cave somewhere. Eat rats. He did it once, he could do it again. It's genuinely less painful to think about than the alternative.
Visions pass through his head of Harry packing his things, moving out, never talking to Sirius again. He's been the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet and the most selfish jerk. He wonders how he got here. Where did he go wrong? Was this his destiny? To blow up his life, over and over again, until the end of time? To get his best friend killed, to get sent to prison, to almost die so many times he's lost count, to drive the only person who matters to him away by having an affair with his girlfriend? To fall in love with said girlfriend, then break her heart - and his own - trying to do the right thing, only to have it explode in his face and make everything worse?
Fuck, he wants a drink.
He wishes he kept firewhisky in his office. He doesn't; he knows himself well enough to know that if he made it too easy to drink at work, it would end in disaster.
About an hour after he would normally end his work day, Sirius sighs. He can't take this waiting anymore. Also, he has firewhisky at home and he desperately needs a drink, or several. He steps out into the street and apparates to the front steps of Grimmauld place.
The house is quiet when he arrives. He usually loves coming home to a quiet house. It reminds him that it's his now — no secret meetings, no screaming portrait of his mother, no cranky elves. Just him and Harry.
Soon, maybe just him.
Today, the quiet feels ominous, heavy. He wanders through the house, peeking into various rooms as he goes. No one in the first drawing room. No one in the second drawing room.
"What took you so long?" Sirius jumps.
It's Ginny, standing behind him in the hall outside the kitchen.
"Is Harry here? What happened with George? Why didn't you send an owl?" His questions outpace his brain.
"He's not here. I've been here for a while, so he's probably at work. And I don't know, I kept expecting you to come home!"
"Sorry. But what happened with George?" he asks again.
She sighs. "Come sit down, maybe."
He follows her through to the kitchen and they sit on opposite sides of the table, Sirius's leg bouncing in anticipation. The coffee mugs he and Harry both left abandoned on the table this morning rattle in time with his leg.
"It took me ages to catch up with him, but I told him everything. All about the last few months and how it's over and that what he saw today was goodbye, but… He said whether it's over or not doesn't matter. He's right, of course." She's been staring at her hands, fidgeting on the table, but now she looks up. "He's given me three days. If I — If we don't tell Harry what happened, George will."
"Fuck," Sirius breathes. He summons a bottle of firewhisky.
"Yeah."
"Fuck," he says again. It's the closest thing he has to a coherent thought on the matter. He summons a glass and pours a generous portion. He drinks it, then pours another.
"So, I mean, I guess I'll talk to Harry when he gets home tonight. You can stay, if you want — or maybe it should just be me? Both of us might be overwhelming."
"How are you so calm about this?" He feels like he's going to pass out and she's talking like they're making plans for dinner.
"I don't know, Sirius! Maybe because I've been here alone all day thinking about it!"
"Well, you didn't have to be. You could have found me," he snaps.
"It doesn't matter. The situation is what it is, and I've accepted it," she declares. "It will suck, but eventually this will all be over. And this isn't exactly the war. No one will die."
He can't believe what he's hearing.
"God, this has always been easier for you hasn't it?" he snarls. "You're going to be fine. All you'll lose is what, a boyfriend? I'm going to lose my family!"
"Oh, please," she scoffs. "You knew the risks. I didn't make you do anything."
"But you did! You started all of this! You showed up at my bar and you kissed me. You came to me at the wedding and you're the one who apparated us to your damn bedroom. You're the one who kept showing up at my work!"
"Right, and you told me to go home, did you? Pushed me off?" She shakes her head. "I can't believe you're doing this right now."
Sirius stands, walks a circle around his chair, and sits back down.
"I always ruin everything," he whispers.
Ginny drums her fingers on the table top. It strikes a nerve.
Sirius sends Harry's leftover coffee mug to the ground with a brush of his forearm. There is a satisfying crash as it cracks in half.
He takes his own leftover mug and tosses it against the wall. It shatters into a hundred fragments, the pieces skittering across the floor.
Ginny just looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "That's helpful."
"Fuck off," he mutters, sinking back down in his chair, his temper deflating as quickly as it arose. His head is a mess, a jumble of cracked moods and broken thoughts.
He swallows the rest of his drink and pours a third.
"You know he's my family, too," she says quietly. "I'm not just breaking up with a boyfriend. And if you don't think every single one of our friends is going to take his side, then…" Her voice shakes and she heaves in a breath. "I just have to believe that they love me enough to forgive me, eventually. Even if Harry never does. I tried so hard to never break his heart."
She bites her lip, and screws up her face like she's trying to hold back tears. Then she takes another deep breath, shakes her head and carries on.
"But there's nothing we can do about that now. George knows and Harry has to too. So. I asked you earlier if you wanted to stay. What do you think — tell him together, or just me?"
They don't have time to discuss it further.
The floo roars to life and Sirius looks at Ginny in the last moments before Harry steps through into the kitchen. She takes a shaky breath.
"Together," Sirius says, squeezing her hand under the table.
a/n: Thank you so much for reading.
This story means a lot to me, and I hope it's meant something to one or two of you as well.
As ever, if you have thoughts/feelings/questions/want to yell at me about the ending, leave a review or find me on tumblr (diana-skye).