Sirius's Perspective - Chapter Seven, First Day of Christmas Holidays, Afternoon

Sirius grabbed some roast beef from the fridge and set to making sandwiches for Harry and him. Kreacher had, grudgingly, gone to the store while Sirius was making his parent's room suitable and had brought back a few meal items. It wasn't anything fancy, but Sirius was hoping he would be able to leave the house in a few days to do their shopping, once the ministry publicly revealed his innocence.

He couldn't wait for the moment when he could walk outside as a free man; he hated being in this house, and being able to leave and find a new place was first on his todo list.

He hummed as he put the sandwiches together, pausing as he assembled Harry's. He didn't know if the boy liked mustard… or roast beef, for that matter. They had two full weeks to get to know each other, but the thought still gutted him. He should have had twelve years to know him; James and Lily should have had twelve years to know him. Tonight should have been a big family meal, Harry's first night home for the holidays. Lily could have made Harry's favorite food in celebration, James and Sirius could have discussed the recent quidditch match with him - he had flown so well, after all.

Sirius sighed and closed the mustard lid. He would take it upstairs and let Harry add it himself if he wanted it. Grabbing the tray, he quietly moved up to the first floor, past his mother's blasted portrait, and up the spiral staircase.

He tapped on the door to his old room with his foot. "Harry? I brought you some lunch…"

When Harry didn't answer, Sirius gently pushed on the door; it swung forward and revealed an empty room. The desk chair was pulled out, as if someone had recently vacated it. Sirius approached it and saw a finished note to Harry's friends.

"Harry!" Sirius called again, setting the sandwich tray on the bed and walking back out into the hallway. Had he gone to the bathroom? Sirius hadn't even shown him where it was.

He walked down the hall to the guest bathroom; the door was cracked open, just as it had been when Sirius went downstairs earlier, and it was empty too.

"Harry!" Sirius called again, louder. His mother began shrieking three floors below him, but there was nothing to indicate Harry had heard him.

"Shit," he mumbled, panic beginning to claw inside him. "Kreacher!"

The house elf appeared and bowed exaggeratingly low, giving Sirius a look of utmost contempt. "Master called?"

"Have you seen Harry?"

"Kreacher has not seen the half-blood brat-"

"Don't call him that," Sirius snapped, his heart sinking at Kreacher's report. "He's my godson, so he's just as much your master as I am."

"Yes master," Kreacher croaked, though he did not look pleased at being told he had to answer to the boy. He began muttering under his breath immediately, but Sirius ignored him; he turned and practically ran back towards the bedrooms.

Where could Harry be? Would he have tried to go back to Hogwarts after all, despite saying he wanted to stay? Yeah, it had been a little awkward, but Sirius thought things were going pretty well-

Then it hit him; they were not in a normal house. Harry didn't actually have to leave the place to disappear, not when there were millions of strange objects with treacherous functions hidden everywhere.

"Shit!" Sirius said, rushing to check his parent's bedroom first. He had removed most of the dark furniture and artifacts from the room, but the wardrobe had been too large to fit through the door, and he hadn't had a chance to test it yet.

He approached the old wardrobe slowly; he could clearly hear the rattling coming from the inside. He had assumed earlier that a boggart had taken residence there, but what if it was something worse?

His heart was racing as he lifted his wand; what would he find inside? Harry, alive and well? Or…

"Aberto!" he shouted desperately, crushing the awful thought in his mind before it morphed into something more detailed. The doors swung open immediately with the incantation and two figures flew out. Harry fell to the floor at Sirius's feet, gasping for air. Simultaneously, a snowy owl, the one that had delivered Harry's post earlier - Hedwig, Sirius reminded himself - flew straight out of the bedroom door, screeching and hooting indignantly.

Sirius bent over and pulled Harry upward, grasping his shoulders. "Harry, thank Merlin, I was so scared-"

"You were!" Harry gasped. Tears were streaming down his face and his hands were bloody and raw from where he had been scratching at the door of the wardrobe. Sirius felt his own tears come as he took in the frightened boy in front of him.

He reached out to cup Harry's face, to wipe his tears, but Harry jerked away from him. Sirius bit his lip, wanting to hold it together until Harry calmed down. "Are you okay? How long were you in there?"

Harry was shaking his head and staggering away from Sirius, putting as much distance as he could between them. Sirius watched, helplessly, as the boy walked out of the room and practically ran down the hallway.

Harry's Perspective - First Day of Christmas Holidays, Afternoon

Harry was finally, graciously, back in the room he knew was safe, where there was enough space for him to breathe. He sat on the floor and put his face between his knees, taking big, gulping breaths of air.

It's different than the Dursleys, Harry told himself, over and over, as he fought his racing heart rate. Sirius didn't mean to lock you in that closet. He didn't know.

Harry had realized, the moment he saw the look on Sirius's face when he opened the door, that it had been an accident. He felt embarrassed, yet again, for doubting his godfather's intentions, for believing he was a murderer when he had been given proof it was Pettigrew that betrayed his family.

Yet, as his breathing slowed, hot, stinging anger bubbled up within him. Why didn't Sirius warn him about that stupid closet? Where had he been anyway? How did Hedwig get stuck in there?

Sirius may not have meant to put Harry in danger, but it had happened so easily. It was negligent, Harry thought viciously. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would have never let one of their children around an object like that, much less have it in their house. How could his godfather have left him unattended like that when this house was so dangerous?

Harry stood up and turned back to the door. He locked it, then dead bolted it; he could not bear to face Sirius's pleading, scary eyes, couldn't stand to hear an apology, because it was all so wrong.

He stormed over to the desk and ripped the letter he had written earlier to shreds. Furiously, he grabbed another piece of parchment and laid it in front of him. He couldn't stay here another day, not when he was at risk leaving his bedroom, not when Sirius wasn't paying any attention to what was happening in his own damn house. The place was rife with dark magic, and Harry shouldn't be forced to deal with it because his godfather got himself locked up for twelve years and couldn't purchase a normal place to live. Screw what Dumbledore wanted; Harry had put up with the awful Dursleys for twelve years because he had to, but he drew the line at evil, magic closets and strangling sheets.

Ron and Hermione,

Harry scribbled his letter quickly, as if afraid Sirius would barge in and try to stop him; his hand trembled as he wrote.

Sirius is innocent, that's true, but I wouldn't say I'm fine. I don't want to stay here. His parents were mental and they own this awful house full of dark artifacts. I just got locked in a wardrobe for half an hour until Sirius found me.

I want to be back at Hogwarts and hanging out with you two. Do whatever you can to come get me, I'll figure out what to do about Sirius later…

Harry read back over what he had written, feeling some of the anger and determination leave him as he reviewed his words. Despite his frustration and fear, a small part of him didn't want to write anything too harsh about Sirius… he wasn't all that bad, and he didn't want to give Ron and Hermione the wrong idea.

Harry breathed deeply for a few moments, feeling his pulse rate finally begin to slow. He's better than the Dursleys, Harry admitted fairly. They would've been… no, they were just as negligent. And at least Sirius seemed upset when he had found Harry… the Dursley's would've been glad to let him rot in that closet, they probably would have left him in there when they realized where he was. That's what they had done his whole childhood with the cupboard, wasn't it?

But what kind of godfather brings their godson into a death house? Surely Harry's mum and dad would've been pissed if they knew where he was right now… surely they would be questioning their decision to let Sirius Black be their son's legal guardian. Only a nutter would think this was a good place to come live, a good place to raise a kid.

He did warn me to be careful, Harry conceded. Sirius had told him to go find him before messing with any artifacts, and Harry hadn't listened to him. But how was he supposed to know the damned closet was cursed?

Sirius tested the bed before he let you sit on it. Of course the closet could have been cursed.

And he doesn't want to stay here either, he said he would've never brought you here if he had had a choice.

Harry sighed miserably and set his quill down. He needed to lie down for a bit, to think through what he should do before he sent Ron and Hermione on a rescue mission. He stood from the desk and turned, stretching his arms above his head. His fingers were pulsing; Harry brought his hands close to his face and saw the skin was raw and splintered from where he had been trying to escape.

He felt humiliated, and he immediately put his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't have to look at them. What kind of wizard is so helpless they can't get out of a closet?

You are, a voice that sounded much like Dudley, whispered in the back of his mind. That was how he had spent his whole childhood; locked in a damn closet.

Harry walked over to the bed to sit, then stopped abruptly. On a tray at the foot of the bed was a large sandwich with pumpkin juice and crisps.

Harry looked at it for a long moment as it hit him where Sirius had been when Hedwig and he had gotten locked in the closet. He sat down, feeling even more miserable and guilty than he had a moment ago, and took a large bite of the sandwich.

Sirius's Perspective - First Day of Christmas Holidays, Late Evening

Sirius had sat downstairs in the kitchen - after locking all of the doors to rooms that hadn't been screened for dark artifacts - for six hours before conceding that Harry would not be coming down for dinner. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat miserably at the dining room table, feeling as though he had entirely failed at being a guardian to Harry. Four meager hours with him and Harry's life had been put at risk. Why hadn't he locked the bedroom door before going downstairs? How could he have been so foolish?

Sirius lifted the glass to take a sip. The liquid burned as it went down, warming him a bit, bringing a welcome haziness to his thoughts-

No, he thought, putting the glass back down on the table and pushing it roughly away from him. He couldn't numb out… he didn't deserve to numb out, not after what he had put Harry through.

He needed to go check on him; that would be the mature thing to do… it would be what James or Lily would have done.

God, they would be so mad with me for bringing him here, Sirius thought miserably as he climbed the stairs to the main floor. James despised dark magic… he would have never wanted his son here.

Of course, Sirius would have never wanted Harry here, either… he didn't want to be here, and it was his own damned house. He hated it here, hated what the place represented, the memories it brought up.

Lost in thought, Sirius jumped when he realized he was almost to his old bedroom. He approached the dark, wooden door slowly, listening closely for any sounds coming from within.

When he didn't hear anything, he knocked gently. "Harry? Mate? Just wanted to come check on you…"

No reply. Sirius tried the doorknob. Locked.

He sighed and lifted his wand, hating himself for what he was about to do. He wanted to respect Harry's privacy, but he needed to know the boy was okay before he went back downstairs. "Alohomora," he whispered.

The lock clicked and the door slid open slowly. The room was dark and still, much like Sirius had found it earlier when Harry was missing. "Lumos," he whispered, feeling panic rise in his chest. Had Harry disappeared again? His wand tip ignited and bathed the bedroom in light.

Immediately, Sirius spotted Harry, safe and asleep in his bed. He let out a relieved sigh, prepared to close the door again, when he noticed the empty sandwich tray on the desk. At least he ate something today, he thought as he quietly crossed the room.

He picked up the tray and noticed the letter underneath, shining stark white against the dark wooden desk. His eyes scanned the first line of the parchment before he realized what it was; his heart fell as the words registered to him.

Sirius is innocent, that's true, but I wouldn't say I'm fine. I don't want to stay here…

He jerked his gaze away from the letter, feeling disgusted with himself for even seeing it. That wasn't for him to read; it was a personal letter to Harry's friends.

Yet, Sirius couldn't deny the crushing feeling of despair in his chest as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. He knew what he had to do next; it would deeply hurt him, but he had no choice.

He couldn't keep Harry, not if he wasn't happy here. Of course his godson would be distraught after what had happened; of course he would want to leave. It looked as if Sirius had attempted to murder Harry, after spending hours trying to convince him of the opposite. Why would he want to stay? It had to be worse than his aunt and uncle's, even if they did hate wizards. At least his life wasn't threatened in a muggle house.

Sirius felt tears come to his eyes for the millionth time that day, but he squeezed them tight and gritted his teeth. He had no right to feel upset over Harry's decision to leave; he had been a lousy godfather within a few hours of them living together.

He slammed the tray onto the table when he reached the kitchen, anger burning within him at his negligence, his stupidity. He had been given what he had yearned for for twelve years, a second chance with Harry, and he had blown it so quickly.

He threw floo powder into the grate of the kitchen fireplace and climbed down to his knees. "Defense Against the Dark Arts Office, Hogwarts!"

His head spun dizzyingly and hot ashes hit his face, but he closed his eyes and grit his teeth until he arrived in the right location, determined to see this through.

Remus was sitting at the desk with his back to him. He was bent over and writing something with a quill; apparently he hadn't heard the floo ignite behind him.

"Remus!" Sirius said.

Remus jumped and swirled around, a surprised look on his face. "Sirius!" he exclaimed as he stood and clambered over to the fireplace. "What's wrong? Is Harry alright?"

Sirius felt his heart sink even further as he prepared to admit the truth. "No, he's not. He got caught in the wardrobe in my parent's room while I was making us lunch. It was a dark object and it trapped him in there; he was so distressed when he got out, he couldn't even tell me how long he'd been in there-"

"Well, where is he now?" Remus asked, his eyes full of concern. "Is he alright?"

Sirius felt tears prick his eyes again and he blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. "He wouldn't talk to me, he ran to his room and didn't come out all evening. I just checked on him and he's sleeping now, but… but he had a letter on his desk. He was writing to his friends and he said he didn't want to stay. I didn't mean to read it," Sirius hastened to add, "I was grabbing his lunch tray and it was underneath it, I just saw the first two sentences."

Remus looked at Sirius sadly. "How did it happen Sirius?"

"I had told him to be careful!" Sirius insisted desperately. "I told him not to mess with anything, and I checked the room he was staying in before I left, and it was safe. He must have gone looking for me while I was making sandwiches, I think his owl got locked in too… it sucks in whoever touches it, one of those anti-thieving wardrobes from the forties."

"Well, it wasn't your fault," Remus said gently. "He's thirteen and you warned him, it's not like you left a toddler alone in a room of dark objects-"

"Yeah, but he doesn't want to stay," Sirius mumbled, defeated. "I don't want to force him to stay if he's uncomfortable, it's only going to make it harder for him to trust me. If I do this for him now, maybe he'll be more willing to try again when I get a better house."

Remus sighed, but nodded. "That's probably fair… he was forced there this morning, and that is a horrible house."

"I swear I would've never brought him here," Sirius insisted. "If we had just had a week, long enough to get my name cleared, so I could buy a proper house…"

"I know, Padfoot. It's not fair," Remus said sadly. "You want me to come get him tomorrow? I'll talk to him a bit, see if I can't get him round for Christmas next weekend."

"Yeah, you should. Try and get here early so Dumbledore doesn't stop you… he can come yell at me here if he doesn't like it… he can come see where he stuck us for himself."

"I'll just come through now," Remus said, standing and grabbing a small bag from beside his desk. "You shouldn't be alone right now either."

Despite the awful despair coursing through him, Sirius felt a rush of affection towards his old school friend. "Thanks, Moony," he said softly. "Come on through."