Chapter Text
It sounds ridiculous but Harry would swear until his dying day that it was an honest mistake. Over the years, he’d just gotten so comfortable, taken everything for granted that he never thought he’d have to actually tell someone about it, you know? It could also be that he personally thought that it wasn’t even something they should’ve had to tell someone, the whole situation was so obvious anyone with eyes had to have gotten it. But clearly, that wasn’t the case or they wouldn’t be in this position.
He wasn’t making any sense, was he? Let’s rewind.
It was the year 2010. Christmas. The War had been over long enough for Harry to not constantly look over his shoulder at every turn, for him to be able to stop and enjoy the life he had. It wasn’t long enough, however, that he’d stop thanking every single higher power there was for making sure that things turned out the way they did. Harry didn’t even know what he’d do if he’d lost…any more than what he did. Even now, he couldn’t think of the possibility without choking up- the thought of not having his Sirius with him. Having to get through the post-War chaos and confusion without his godfather holding him through it? It was unimaginable. Sirius was his rock in the years leading up to the final confrontation, and even in the days just after when he’d get through the days as if he was in a trance, disconnected from everything around him. Without Sirius there…Harry seriously thinks he wouldn’t even be alive today.
He took a shuddering breath at the thought. It was too early for him to go down this rabbit hole, didn’t even know how he got to that depressive stage, but just as he does every time the intrusive thoughts refuse to leave his mind, he turns abruptly to his side, seeing Sirius, his entire world , sleeping peacefully, light snores escaping his open mouth. Despite the dark turn his mind had taken, Harry couldn’t help but smile fondly at the familiar sight. Sirius’ face, now lined with wrinkles (thankfully from years of laughter and good health instead of imprisonment and grief) and fine lines. His still-thick head of dark hair, liberally streaked with grey. Sirius, vain bastard that he was, would constantly grumble about it every time he looked into the mirror but Harry absolutely adored the sight. And though he’d never force him to do something he wouldn’t want to, Harry had a feeling that the absolutely sappy look he got on his face whenever he fingered the salt and pepper hair was enough of a balm to his partner’s ego that he didn’t mind it too much, at least not for the time being. And for once, Harry was selfish enough that he took the win for what it was. He really did love the hair something fierce.
Sirius was in his usual position while sleeping- curled up in a fetal position, one hand under his head and the other clutching tightly onto Harry’s shirt (he’d been doing that since even before they’d gotten together. Harry would often wake up in the middle of the night to find his godfather dozing off in an armchair beside his bed, one hand fisted in his sleeve. He’d never asked him why he did it; it was easy enough to guess because lord knows there were more than enough times that Harry had the desperate urge to check up on the man, see for himself that he was real, alive . And he knew that despite all that he’d been through, he would never reach the level of fear and paranoia Sirius must have developed from all those years when he had no one, unable to even rely on his senses in a place that was designed to make you go insane. So the habit persisted, years after Sirius was away from Azkaban, the oppressive atmosphere of Grimmauld Place, and even the generally dreary environment Britain provided- he still kept a hold of Harry in sleep, physically needing the reassurance, which Harry was only too happy to provide)
They’d experimented a lot with their sleeping positions over the years, Harry mused, running his fingers through the older man’s hair, carefully untangling any knots he came across. Well before they’d gotten together, they were used to sharing the same room, although no one could accuse them of anything inappropriate (not at the time, at least). With the insomnia and amount of nightmares they shared between themselves, it became common for them to find a place in the cursed house where it could just be the two of them- be it the library, an abandoned study, the kitchen, or even a creepy cellar in the basement once. They didn’t talk often, instead choosing to sit in silence, shoulders pressed together- the body heat radiating off each other tangible proof that they were here and not stuck screaming into the void somewhere in their terror. Harry still maintains that those quiet moments of solitude were the only thing that tethered his mind to reality at the time. At a time where he was mentally grappling with Riddle every night, being treated like a walking bomb that could detonate anytime during the day, and just generally not having a Fun Time- his time with his godfather was a desperately needed respite.
Over time, they slowly graduated from just sitting together to sharing the same couch or bed, although still nothing really happened. Sirius would almost always be in his Animagus form at the foot of the bed, and Harry would be curled tight into a ball. Just the knowledge that someone they knew and trusted was there was enough to soothe them most nights.
It was the times when it wasn't enough that brought the next change in their dynamic. Siri was the one who broke first. Harry still remembered the day he woke up to the most bizarre sniffling sound and how it took him a good minute to realise that it was Padfoot making the noise, and another to realise that he was in the middle of a nightmare. And although it took his mind a while to get over the sight, the moment he realised that it was his godfather and not actually a dog, he got over the mental fog real quick. Over the next few minutes, he tried his best to soothe the agitated canine, running his fingers behind his ears the way he liked, scratching his tail, and generally trying his best to project an air of love and security so Sirius would feel safe enough to transform back. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before Harry had a shivering adult male almost in his lap (though he didn’t pay attention to the fact at the time, more concerned with the fact that his godfather was ice cold to the touch) and though he was still quite a bit smaller than the older man, it wasn’t much trouble for him to rearrange Sirius in such a way that he was wrapped safely in his arms, both for the sake of warming him up and showing him that he wasn’t alone.
The next morning, they woke up still wrapped around each other and although Sirius was a little stiff and embarrassed for a while, it was as if that one moment broke a previously hidden layer between them because from that day onwards, Padfoot rarely occupied the bed, and the number of times they woke up snuggled into the other was rapidly increasing.
Bar the first night, however, for the first couple years then, Harry was exclusively the smaller spoon in the cuddle pile. In those early years, it fit them well too. Harry had so much going on around, was so overwhelmed with all the weight piled onto his shoulders that sometimes he just needed someone else to take the reins, to hold him tight and physically block the world around him. Sirius, who was chafing against all the restrictions imposed on him, needed a way to regain control in his life, needed to feel needed , like he was worth something and so the arrangement worked out perfectly.
But as the War wound down, Riddle defeated and rebuilding underway, things changed yet again. That last year of being on the run, being at the helm of a bloody, devastating war, and leading a charge against one of the foulest wizards known to mankind- Harry grew up. A lot . He didn’t quite need someone to hold him anymore. From the moment Riddle was defeated, he felt unmoored, like he didn’t have a purpose left in life anymore. And it wasn’t that far off the truth either. For almost his whole life in the Wizarding World, Harry was groomed to defeat Tom Riddle. He was kept ignorant of his true purpose for most of that time, yes, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still raised almost like a sacrificial lamb for slaughter by a lot of adults around him. With time and perspective, Harry has been able to view the events of his childhood with a more critical, a more unbiased view. He can now see that the trials (and yes, that’s what they were because there was no other reason a child had to go through so many horrific, near death experiences otherwise) he was forced into served very specific purposes, were designed to test his resilience, his grit, his luck, but most importantly, his willingness to sacrifice himself at the right time.
It is an impotent rage now, has been since the moment he discovered it because most of the people who orchestrated the whole thing are buried nine feet under and portraits are nothing but the barest echoes of men and women. There is no resolution to this conflict, no relief to be found, and Harry has forced himself to come to terms with that conclusion, unsatisfactory as it is. And although once in a while, the bitterness rears its ugly head, for the most part he’s learned to let go of that anger, that fear.
Around this time, when he was lost, aimless, Sirius was undergoing a crisis of his own. His name had finally been cleared after almost 5 years of being on the run and that sort of sudden freedom—it was as daunting as it was liberating. After so long of having to look over his shoulder, having to constantly think and rethink every decision, and being confined to one place for the whole time- it wasn’t easy for Sirius to adjust to living like your average wixen, albeit one who was a veteran of two wars and had gone through all that he did. Once again, the world around him had changed too quickly for him to keep up with it and he was similarly unmoored.
It was then that the two of them gravitated towards each other once again, like that time in fifth year that felt almost like a lifetime ago with how much had changed since then (how much they’d changed). And yet one thing remained constant- the comfort they found in each other, the feeling of knowing there’s at least one person who loves you unconditionally, who won’t give up on you.
This time around, it was Harry who became Sirius’ anchor, who held him during the night, who gave him a purpose in life. After all that they had gone through, the transition to becoming romantic partners was so organic that till date, if asked, they can’t pinpoint a specific point when their ‘relationship’ started. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to turn around and press a sleepy good morning kiss to the others lips. To slip an arm around Sirius’ waist and pull him tight against his chest. Sirius, who retained some of his canine characteristics even as a human, would often bury his nose under Harry’s ear and leave a trail of love bites down to his neck. The progression to lovers was probably the most uncomplicated thing that Harry had ever had in his life, and he knew that it was the same for Sirius.
After all, what did it matter how they loved each other as long as they just did . Harry had been Sirius’ first priority since the day he was born, and Harry had never felt a connection like he had with his godfather. It still awes him, how quickly he had changed his opinion of the fugitive he had met so long ago. In the span of a few hours, he’d gone from absolutely despising this man he’d believed to be the cause of every misery in his life to desperately agreeing to moving in with him. Harry- the abused, neglected child with a massive distrust for any authority figure- had never once doubted Sirius’ devotion to him. How could he when the man had continually done all he could to be there for Harry? When he proved, day after day, that he’d stay ?
It was why it never occurred to either of them to explicitly announce to those around them that they were together now. How could they, when functionally speaking nothing changed? They loved each other just as much, just as intensely. And that was all there was to it. Sirius and Harry had always been a team, and adding sex to the equation didn’t change that.
Of course, others didn’t see it that way, and neither of them realised it either until the annual Weasley Christmas Dinner of ‘10.