Hey y'all!
Happy summer! I'm finally out of classes and actually have a little time to do things- funny how that works. Sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger for so long :) This chapter is just over twenty pages, so, while not nearly as long as some of my other chapters, I hope this will give you at least a little bit of read time. That being said, I think you've all waited long eough. As always, sit back, relax, enjoy, and on with the chapter!
-Sav

May 2, 1979

The silence that followed Sirius's angry declaration was oppressing. Matching looks of anguish littered the Marauders' faces. They watched in shock as the memory continued playing out before them– a horrific window into a twisted future, taunting them with the seeming inevitability of the events that were to come.

It was only when Pettigrew transformed back into his human form, that James broke down. He fell into Lily, burying his head in her neck as he tried desperately to will away the painful tears he cried for his traitorous brother.

"I didn't want it to be true… He was our best friend– our brother, Lils, and he– h-he… how could he—"

"— what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you've no idea the weapons he possesses… I was scared, Sirius! I was never brave like you and Remus and James! I never meant it to happen… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me–"

"Don't lie!" Sirius yelled. "You'd been passing information to him for a year before Lily and James died! You were his spy!"

"He— he was taking over everywhere!" Gasped Pettigrew. "Wh—what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" Said Sirius, aghast and furious. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" Whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" Roared Sirius, his voice hollow, livid, and heartbroken all at once. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Memory-Sirius's words echoed off the walls of the Room of Requirement, like the thud of the final nail hammering a coffin shut.

If Harry and Hermione didn't know Sirius better, they would have thought that he had shut himself off entirely. Maybe that's what he was trying to do– with the blankness of his face, and the stillness of his body– he could have been petrified by a basilisk and very few people would have been able to tell the difference. But Harry and Hermione did know Sirius better. They could see the tension that permeated every part of his body. They could see the murderous rage boiling in his stormy grey eyes, and the agony behind it that he tried so hard to hide.

And Remus– Remus in that moment looked impossibly older than Harry and Hermione had ever seen him.

James had yet to move, and his eyes had yet to dry.

Lily focused on the feeling of her hands running down James's back. She shut her eyes tightly as a wave of pain washed through her. She took a deep breath, her hands never faltering. She would be strong right now. She needed to. For James. For Sirius. For Remus. The three broken Marauders. Her tears could wait.

The following events played out like some macabre picture show, intent on burning the images into their minds– Snape, Moony's attack, Pettigrew's escape, the dementors closing in, and Harry and Hermione's failing patronuses, getting weaker and weaker by the second.

The blurry form of a bright misty stag suddenly lit up the room. They watched as it fearlessly charged the dementors, eventually galloping back to an awfully familiar figure, barely seen before the memory went black.

"… Prongs?" Remus whispered in confusion upon recognizing the patronus's form and its caster. Sirius's head snapped toward James, a broken, hopeful plea forcing its way past his lips. Hope was dangerous. They all knew it. And yet —

"James, is that— is that you?"

"I– but how?" He asked, confusion coloring his tone. "I died. We saw me die."

"We didn't, though," said Lily, her eyes widening. "We only heard it– Harry was with me, the memory didn't actually show it! It could be possible–"

"It's not, Mum," Harry interrupted. "Dad died. I'm sorry."

"But– but that patronus–" Her eyes watered. "It was Prongs. I know it. And– and that man, the one who cast the patronus…"

"It was Prongs." Harry replied. "But it wasn't Dad."

The memory started again, cutting off any chances for more questions.

"I saw my dad."

"What?" Hermione furrowed her brows.

"He sent the dementors away… I saw him… Across the lake…"

"Listen, Harry, they've captured Sirius. Any minute now the dementors are going to perform the Kiss."

"NO!" James shouted.

"They can't!" Remus yelled, his eyes flashing amber.

"But– but he's innocent…" Lily whispered.

Sirius merely stared in silence, his face stark white.

"Headmaster, you've got to stop them! They've got the wrong man!" Hermione begged.

"It's true sir!" Harry said desperately. "Sirius is innocent!"

"It's Scabbers who did it!" Ron said urgently from his place in the hospital bed.

"Sacbbers?" Asked Dumbledore.

"My rat, sir. Only he's not really a rat– well he was a rat, you see, he used to be my brother Percy's–"

"The point is we know the truth." Hermione said, interrupting Ron. "Please, sir, you have to believe us."

"I do, Miss Potter." Dumbledore replied.

The Marauders sighed in relief.

"However, I'm sorry to say that the word of three thirteen-year-old wizards will convince few others."

"But he's the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot!" Lily screeched. "He has the power to demand that Sirius's punishment be redetermined by the Wizengamot!"

"He didn't get a trial," Remus reminded her angrily.

"Why didn't he demand that Sirius receive a fair trial?" James asked quietly, his voice shaking with anger. "Why didn't Sirius get a trial in the first place?"

Harry had turned pale, and his jaw had gone slack with shock. Hermione looked like she had been slapped in the face.

"How did it never hit me?" She mumbled. "All the laws I went through for Buckbeak, all the history books and court reports… it was right there…" Her voice turned harsh. "Dumbeldore could have demanded a trial this whole time!"

"That– that–" Harry was so furious he could hardly force the words out. His cheeks turned red with rage, however instead of shouting, he sighed, deflating in utter disappointment. "Even after everything…" Harry said quietly, speaking to his sister, knowing the others could hear, "after all the memories that– that he gave me… I had still hoped that maybe Dumbledore could've– but he left Sirius there. First Azkaban and then in–"

"He'll regret that." Hermione said resolutely. "I'll do far worse than I did with Skeeter and Umbridge."

"I'll join you." Harry promised.

"And so will we," added James, clenching his fists.

"Three turns should do it, I think." Dumbledore's words grabbed the group's attention. "If you succeed tonight, more than one innocent life can be spared… By the way, when in doubt, I find retracing my steps to be a wise place to begin. Good luck."

"What–"

"The time-turner!" Lily gasped, moments before Hermione pulled out the time-turner in the memory. They all watched in fascination as the memory showed as Harry and Hermione's surroundings seemed to reverse until they stood in the empty hospital room.

As the memory progressed, the atmosphere in the Room of Requirement gained more tense by the second; the Marauders all anxiously waiting to see if Harry and Hermione would manage to save Sirius. Apart from Remus voicing his concern for Hermione's sanity when she decided that howling at him in werewolf form was a good idea, the room stayed quiet. They watched as the lake froze over at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the dementors started to swarm.

But despite Harry's assurances that James was dead, that he was not the one who cast the patronus, the Marauders collectively held their breath, all of them unwilling to let go of the small little voice in their heads, whispering that somehow James had survived, that he had managed to rush in at the exact right moment to save his children and his brother.

"This is horrible…"

"Don't worry. My dad will come… Right there, you'll see, he'll conjure the patronus. Any minute now, you'll see…"

"Harry, listen to me, no one's coming…" Hermione said gently.

"He will! He will come!" Harry insisted.

"We're dying… all three of us are…"

The dangerous little sliver of hope the Marauders had was diminishing by the second. They jumped as Harry rushed forward towards the edge of the lake. Then–

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The brilliant, shining stag erupted from Harry's wand and fearlessly charged the dementors. Prongs drove them off in groups, creating a protective forcefield around Harry, Hermione, and Sirius, pulsing like the rhythm of a heartbeat. After a while, Prongs trotted over to Harry and nudged his hand with his head. Harry petted the ethereal stag, and watched as it slowly faded, leaving behind only the moonlight in its wake.

Shock and wonder shown across the Marauders' faces. James had fresh tear-tracks on his cheeks. Nobody mentioned it.

"You were right, Hermione!" Harry said. "It wasn't my dad I saw earlier— it was me! I saw myself conjuring the patronus before! I knew I could do it this time because… well, I'd already done it! Does that make sense?"

"No!" Hermione yelled over the wind. "But I don't like flying!" Her words were cut off by her scream of terror. Harry whooped, nearly giddy. They landed on the tower a few minutes later, much to the shock of Sirius.

"Stand back!" Hermione shouted. "Bombarda!"

Sirius laughed as they flew away from the tower. He had escaped.

"I'll be forever grateful for this," said Sirius after they had landed. "To both of you." He smiled at Hermione after helping her off of Buckbeak. "I'm glad Harry has a friend like you."

"She's my sister." Harry replied before Hermione had a chance to respond. "We're all either of us has left. Only each other."

"You have me. Both of you." Sirius's tone left no room for doubt. "Besides, I've always wanted a goddaughter."

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes and she barreled into Sirius, throwing her arms around his torso. He was almost knocked back at the force, but that didn't stop him from returning the hug. Harry smiled fondly, knowing exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of his sister's bear hugs. As they parted, Sirius turned his attention toward Harry, and reached out to cup his face with both hands.

"You are solike your father."

It was Harry's turn to blink back tears.

"You look like him too. Just like him — except your eyes. You have —"

"My mum's eyes, yeah."

Sirius smiled slightly, the feeling unfamiliar on his face.

"We want to go with you," Harry said.

"I know you do." Sirius replied, gently taking Harry and Hermione's hands in his. "But for some time now my life will be too unpredictable. Besides, you're both needed here."

A stricken look crossed Hermione's face and she pulled her hand away to roughly wipe a few tears.

"Why so sad, kitten? You were brilliant."

Her lip trembled. "Professor Lupin must hate me. I was awful to him. He's done so much for me and Harry, and I've just treated him like a monster." She let out a sob.

"I don't hate you, Hermione." Remus said.

"Thank you." Hermione half-smiled.

"Hey, now, love, don't cry. I promise Moony doesn't hate you."

Hermione sniffled. "How do you know?"

"He's always been far more forgiving than any of us deserve. He knows you don't really think that way. I've been watching you four for months now — I didn't want to risk not being there if Pettigrew tried anything before I could get my hands on him. I wouldn't put it above the rat — but I saw how you would defend him if people commented on him being ill, and how you would steer the conversation away if anyone came too close to figuring out the truth. I saw how you would bring back extra chocolate from Honeydukes, always around the full moon. The idiots who truly think he's a monster don't go out of their way to help him. He knows that. He doesn't hate you, kitten."

"You… you did all that… for me?"

"Of course I did, Remus. How could I not?"

Not for the first time, Remus found himself shocked at the idea that somebody could care that much for him. For James and Sirius, his best mates, to do something like that— he had… not gotten used to it, rather he learned to expect it from them. That's just who they were. But for a stranger, just another one of his future students, or anybody, really, well— he didn't think he'd ever stop being surprised.

"Can't you stay?" Hermione asked, wiping a few more tears. "I haven't sold my… my parents' place yet, they l-left it to me, you could stay there…"

"Thank you, love, that's very kind of you. I think it's best, though, if I were spotted somewhere far away from here. Maybe I'll go to the tropics…"

"But you're innocent!" Harry protested.

"And you know it," Sirius said. "For now, that will do."

Sirius sighed. He couldn't dawdle longer. They all knew it.

"It's a shame I got to spend so much time with James and Lily, and you so little. But know this—" He looked between Harry and Hermione, and smiled. It was bittersweet. "The ones who love us never really leave us. You can always find them —" He put a prison-inked hand to his heart. "— in here."

The memory faded as Sirius and Buckbeak flew away, growing fainter and fainter in the night sky.

"Bloody hell," said Sirius, breaking the heavy silence that the memory had left.

"Agreed," said Lily and Remus at the same time. They didn't even seem to realize that they had done so.

"Can — could I see…" James trailed off, looking hesitantly at Harry. Harry didn't need any clarification. He didn't bother moving from his sister's side, he simply raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum."

Just as it had in the memory, the silver-blue stag — Prongs — burst forth from Harry's wand, shining magnificently. Hermione smiled at the sight. Harry's patronus was almost brighter than she had ever seen it. She kissed his cheek and leaned her head back on his shoulder, ignoring the way her vision blurred. Her eyelids fluttered shut of their own accord. She didn't fight it. She was just tired.

"Woah." James whispered in awe, watching as Prongs pranced around the room in patronus form. He smiled when the stag came right up next to him and butted his head with his antlers. Sirius snorted. Some of the color had returned to his face, but it was clear that Sirius — and the rest of the Marauders — were still deeply shaken. Despite the memory lingering in their minds, Lily and Remus managed to smile as well. Lily wondered if that was the effect of the patronus. Maybe it was hope. Simple, dangerous hope.

"You're incredible, son," said James a few minutes later, watching as the patronus dissipated into nothingness.

Harry flushed and looked away. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"He's right, pup," chimed Sirius. "You are incredible — not just because of the patronus thing, though that is certainly amazing all by itself. You are incredible. You and your sister."

Lily furrowed her brows. "Is she asleep?" She asked, lowering her voice.

Harry peered down at Hermione, noting her closed eyes and pale face.

"What's that smell?" Remus asked, crinkling his nose.

"What smell?" Lily asked.

"Mi, wake up," said Harry gently.

"You don't smell that?" Said Remus.

James inhaled, trying to pick out whatever it was Remus was smelling. "No, wait — Lils, I smell it too — what — what is that?"

"I don't know," said Remus. "It's… it's kind of… metallic?"

"Mi?" Harry placed a hand on her shoulder.

Sirius frowned, sniffing the air. "It's —"

His gaze landed on Hermione.

"Blood."

All eyes snapped towards Hermione. She was still asleep. The sleeve of her denim jacket had soaked through. It was dark red, almost black. A small puddle was forming from where it dripped onto the floor.

"Shit!" Harry hissed, immediately moving into action. He eased Hermione off his shoulder and onto the ground and yanked her beaded bag open. "Accio med kit!"

Catching the large duffle as it came flying out of the bag, Harry set it down and moved to Hermione's left side, gently taking her arm and resting it on his lap. He cast a Diffindo to her denim jacket and jumper sleeves and started to peel away the bloodied fabric. Lily, who had rushed over to Hermione at the first sight of blood, started unpacking the medical kit. She was both impressed and horrified at how well-prepared her kids were for any sort of medical emergency, and at how many of their supplies were dwindling or empty. She tried to ignore the six empty bottles of blood-replenishing potion. She looked over at Hermione's blood-covered arm and doubtfully back at the last few drops of dittany in the kit. They wouldn't have enough.

"Tergeo!" Harry cast, ignoring as Sirius tried to calm a worried James, and Remus, who was looking rather ill. Harry siphoned away as much blood as he could, and frowned when he saw that she was still actively bleeding. Casting an Aguamenti, he washed out as much of the wound as possible, before using a drying charm to clear away the water, and grabbing some gauze to stave off more of the bleeding. He pressed down on her arm hard, using the pressure to buy himself a few seconds to think.

"Okay, okay, think. What did Fleur say?" He muttered to himself. "No murtlap, no wound-cleaning potion, no stargrass salve, no pain potion–" Harry cut himself off, his voice breaking. "I'll kill her, Mi," he promised. Harry sighed. "No healing spells, and – No!" He shouted, spotting the last of the dittany in Lily's hands. Lily froze.

"No dittany, Mum," Harry said, his voice calmer. "Cursed wound – cursed blade. Last time we gave her dittany, she stopped breathing."

Lily inhaled sharply. "Right. No dittany."

"You said you're a trained healer?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Muggle or magical?"

"Magical, but I have a base training in muggle methods."

"Stitches?"

"Easy."

"Right. You'll have to work fast– the bleeding won't fully stop, and I can't give her more blood-replenisher until we've got it closed up."

Lily's heart dropped. "You're out of blood-replenisher."

"Damn it." Harry hissed.

"Presley," James called. She appeared almost instantly. "We need more blood-replenishing potion, please. As soon as possible." Presley took one look at the scene, Hermione unconscious on the floor, and nodded before popping out of the room.

"The stitches aren't a solid solution either," said Harry. "The curse keeps eating through them. They dissolve after a day or so."

Lily nodded, and grabbed the box of sterile suture thread, a surgical needle, and a pair of gloves. "We'll deal with that later," she replied, pulling the gloves on. "Are you ready to remove the gauze?"

Harry winced.

"Yeah, but I can't ease off all the way. She'll lose too much blood, and she can't afford to lose much more. It's best to do one–" He steeled himself. "– one letter at a time."

The room went silent.

"One… letter…?"

Lily's voice was quiet. Dangerous. The Marauders didn't say anything. They didn't need to. Lily's tone said it all.

Harry grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He exhaled sharply.

"She's got the word 'Mudblood' carved into her arm."

Nothing.

If the room had been quiet before, it was nothing compared to this.

The furious silence was so quiet it was deafening.

Nothing could be heard over the complete absence of sound.

Nothing. Until —

"I'm gonna be sick," Remus said, bolting towards a bathroom door which had appeared on the side of a wall. The bathroom door slammed shut. Harry flinched at the sound.

A look of pure, unadulterated rage crossed Sirius's face. Wordlessly, he transformed into Padfoot. He padded over to Hermione's right side and laid down next to her, before gently placing one of his paws on her wrist. He didn't move after that.

"Who." James bit out. It wasn't a question. Sparks fell from his clenched fists.

"Bellatrix."

Padfoot snarled.

"Ready, Harry?" Lily asked. Her face was carefully blank, but her words were clipped.

"Let's." He replied, as Presley popped back in with so much blood-replenishing potion, it must have been a year's worth of brewing. Harry wasn't quite sure he wanted to know where she got all of that so quickly.

Lily paled as the "M" came into view. Even with all the blood, the individual gashes were still plainly visible. Setting her jaw, Lily got to work stitching. James exhaled sharply. Needing to do something, anything, other than stare at the torture inflicted on his daughter, he turned on the spot and went to check on Remus in the newly provided bathroom.

"How are you?" He asked, looking at Remus who was bent over the toilet.

"How is she?" Remus croaked.

"Lils is stitching her. It's… I couldn't be in there longer."

"Did– did Harry say how…?"

"Bellatrix."

Remus frowned. He didn't need more explanation.

"And Sirius?"

"Padfoot. I don't think he's left her side."

"Fuck."

"Yep."

"It does clear up some of what Harry said earlier though," said Remus. "When they had us tied up– said he would've killed Bellatrix for what she did to Hermione, had someone else not gotten to her first." Remus shivered. "He mentioned Sirius and the Longbottoms too."

James tried not to think about the implications of that.

"If Harry doesn't kill her, I will." James swore.

"Let me get in a few good curses, will you?" Remus asked, a dark expression crossing over his face.

"What else are friends for?" James replied. It was almost a joke, but his voice fell flat.

It was a little while later that Lily finally walked into the bathroom. James assumed that she had cast a Scourgify to her hands and robes, as she appeared worn down, but clean (for which he was thankful. However, the smell of blood– Hermione's blood– still saturated the air. Both James and Remus were relieved when the door fell shut behind her.

She sighed. "We stopped the bleeding for now. She's still unconscious. I gave her a fair amount of blood-replenisher. I want to set her up at home, where she'll be easier to monitor– in a sterile environment with proper equipment and medicine. I want to see if Harry will let me heal him after that and check for any injuries Hermione has aside from– well, you know. R-Really they should be in St. Mungos…"

"That's not something they'll agree to," said Remus.

James ran a hand through his hair. "It was hard enough just to get them to agree to stay with us."

"I know." Lily said. "I just hope nothing is worse than her a-arm."

"How are Harry and Padfoot doing?"

"Sirius hasn't changed back yet. I'm not sure he will anytime soon. He hasn't moved at all either."

"How bad?" Asked James.

"Better than your parents' funeral. Barely."

James grimaced. Sirius had shifted into Padfoot right after the funeral ended. He didn't change back for a week and a half.

"Harry is… I don't even know what to do with him. I can't read him, I don't know how to help him, he just– he looks so lost and– and at the same time there's this look about him– he's used to it. Used to fighting. From the sounds of it, he's had to fightevery day of his life. It's killing me."

"It kills me too, Lils." Said James.

"All of us," added Remus.

James pulled Lily into a tight hug.

"All we can do is be there for them– do whatever we can for them now, while we work on fixing the future. They won't be on their own."

She was silent for a heartbeat, before she spoke again.

"Let's go talk to Harry."

James, Lily, and Remus all filed back into the main room to see that almost nothing about the scene had changed. Padfoot sat, as expected, close by Hermione's right side, with his paw resting on her wrist. Harry was on her left, her arm– now covered with gauze– still in his lap. He stared at her, tears in his eyes, his little finger toying with a stray curl. He didn't seem to notice.

"Harry?" Lily asked. He merely moved his gaze to meet hers. "I know you and Hermione wanted to finish telling us everything, but I think we should get her somewhere more stable."

Harry pursed his lips.

"Not at St. Mungo's," Lily assured him. "Just at home. There's a med area in the lab."

Slowly, he nodded.

"Okay. Good," Lily said. "How exactly do we get out of here?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. After a second, the loud sound of the entry door unlocking echoed through the room.

"Should be fine now," said Harry quietly. He gently placed Hermione's arm on the floor beside her before moving to kneel by his sister, his wand drawn. Padfoot, seeming to get the message, stood up and backed away a few inches. "Petrificus totalus," Harry whispered. "Levicorpus."

Once Hermione was floating, Harry conjured a long, thin piece of thread and tied his and his sister's wrists to each other. Finally, he pulled the invisibility cloak out of his pocket and draped it over Hermione.

Harry made to disillusion himself, but before he could, James pulled out his version of the cloak and silently passed it to him.

"Thanks," Harry said. He looked down at the silvery fabric that pooled in his hands. It was newer, a bit less used, but not by much. The cloak was so old anyway – a Deathly Hallow – Harry wasn't sure nineteen years made much of a difference to it. As he slipped it on, he noticed a scent that must have faded with time; it had never lingered on his version. It smelled of soap and the forest, and something he couldn't place. It was nice. Comforting.

He opened the door and followed the Marauders out, halfheartedly enjoying the looks on their faces as they realized their surroundings. Even Padfoot's eyes widened. The castle halls were quiet, as they had been when Harry and Hermione first arrived hours ago. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was clearly past curfew, and for that he was glad. He did not know how James, Lily and Remus planned to explain Sirius's absence, not to mention the sudden presence of a big black dog, without causing mass panic. Merlin forbid if Trelawney caught sight of him. Harry had heard enough about The Grim for one lifetime.

They shortly made it to the Whomping Willow passageway, none of them too keen about dallying. A few minutes later they entered the Shrieking Shack, and Harry removed the cloaks from himself and his sister. They would be apparating from here. He stared off into the corner, looking at a spot on the floor. There had been so much blood – it was gone now. He heard the choked whisper in his head.

"Look… at… me…"

Harry couldn't look away.

"... Harry?" James's voice caught his attention, but Harry didn't look away. "Harry, what are you staring at?"

"Snape died there."

Lily gasped. A few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Just a few hours ago. He bled out in my arms. We hated each other."

Regret flashed across James's face. Remus looked horrified. Padfoot let out a whimper.

James ran a hand through his hair. "Snape is… well, that's one thing I will always be ashamed of– how horribly we treated him. Don't get me wrong, I don't like him and he's always been a right prick to us, but we were cruel to him. I apologized to him a while back, but you can't really apologize for something like that. It just doesn't cut it. I've tried hard to do better since then. Be better. I am truly sorry our fight passed down to you. That's not right."

Harry dipped his head, acknowledging his father's statement. "I saw some of his memories. You're right. You four were awful to him."

James winced.

"However, that doesn't excuse his own actions. He did terrible things all on his own, and to more than just me. When Mi is better, we'll show you some of his memories – in part as an explanation, but mainly because Mum has a right to know."

Lily brushed away another tear.

"Snape was complicated," Harry continued. "He made his choices. Maybe we can change them, maybe we can't, but I see no point in fighting with a dead man."

"H-How did he…" Lily asked, unable to finish her sentence.

"Voldemort. He cut Snape's throat. Left his python to finish the job."

Lily shuddered.

"Was it painful?" Her voice shook, afraid of the answer.

Was it painful? Without a doubt. Snape's gargled cries rang in Harry's ears. He told a different truth instead.

"It was quick."

Harry sat in the sofa chair next to Hermione's bed. They were in the Potions Lab at Potter Manor. Lily insisted that Hermione, who had yet to wake up, spend at least one night in the medical corner before moving to a real room. She had tried to force Harry into receiving medical attention and she was, in part, successful. Harry had agreed to let her heal the surface-level injuries he had received during the battle, but he refused to allow her to look at anything deeper.

"Come on, Mum, I'm the Boy Who Lived," he told her, "not the Boy Who Died From Lack Of Medical Attention. I'll be fine."

"Are you always like this?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Brilliant? Yeah, pretty much." Harry responded.

It had been a few hours since then, and Harry had not moved from his place. Padfoot sat curled up on the foot of the bed. Neither of them took their eyes off Hermione, both finding comfort in counting her breaths. Everyone else had long since gone to bed.

"She doesn't blame you, you know." Harry broke the peaceful silence that had fallen with the moonlight.

Padfoot huffed.

"I mean it," Harry urged. "She doesn't blame you. She would never. Bellatrix did that to her. Not you."

Padfoot growled before putting a paw over his nose.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry finally looked away from his sister to stare intently at Padfoot, who avoided his gaze.

"Sirius." He jolted at the sound of his name. "Look at me." Harry said. His tone left no room for argument. Reluctantly, he dragged his eyes up to his godson's. Harry's voice was strong. "You are not your family."

Padfoot whined.

"You are not!" Harry pushed back. "You didn't carve up my sister's arm, Bellatrix did! You weren't the one holding that knife! This is not your fault! I won't let you think otherwise."

Padfoot's ears perked up, and suddenly he had jumped off the bed, stood up on his hind legs, and placed his front paws on Harry's lap.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

Padfoot nudged his head against Harry's arm.

"What? Was it something I said?"

Padfoot jerked his head in a short nod.

"Er– your family? Bellatrix? Uh– that knife?"

Padfood woofed.

"The knife?"

He woofed again, nearly vibrating with urgency.

"Ok? What about it? It was cursed."

Again, Padfoot nudged his head up against Harry.

"I don't know much about it, Padfoot, sorry. I could tell you what it looked like, but–"

Padfoot barked.

"What did it look like?"

He had nodded before Harry had even finished his question.

"Well, it was silver and rather short. Green marble handle, engravings going up the sides of the blade… do you know it or something?"

Padfoot jumped forward and licked Harry's cheek. Harry groaned but didn't bother trying to hide his small smile. "Aw, gross, Padfoot!"

Rather than responding, Padfoot simply hopped back up onto Hermione's bed– being careful not to jostle her– turned once in a circle, and sat back down, feeling lighter than before. Harry ran a hand through Padfoot's fur. He had missed the feeling. He had missed Sirius. So, so much. Harry leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Padfoot, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. The breath he hadn't gotten to release– the breath that had stayed bated for years, waiting for Sirius to fall out the other side of The Veil.

"I mean it though, Padfoot. Don't you dare blame yourself for what happened to Mia. It wasn't your fault."

Padfoot huffed.

Harry smiled.

Hope.