Hurtful Form of Love

Everything that he'd ever felt crumbled around him.

Sirius swallowed, hard. He tried to pretend that Harry hadn't actually said that to him. He tried to pretend he could just hang up the phone and know he didn't have to face it. But he couldn't.

"Th... That's great, Harry! I'm happy for you!" Lies. Every word except the word Harry. Sirius could hardly contain the agony he actually felt at the sound of the excited voice on the other end.

"Thank you so much, Sirius! I'll tell Ginny you send your blessings! We hope to see you on the 22^nd!"

"Erm... Yeah... Send my congratulations to the lucky... bride," Sirius choked on the word bride, but managed to make it sound like a cough. He could practically see Harry beaming on the other end, and it was starting to get to him.

"Oh my god- the sink's still running... I'll have to catch you later, Harry," he said quickly, it being the only idea that popped into his head on how to get out of this conversation. Before Harry could object, Sirius had said 'Seeya' and hung up.

Sirius was shaking. He rested one hand on the cabinet which held the phone and just closed his eyes to stop the tears he wanted to cry from spilling. It had happened. The one thing he had dreaded, all this time. Harry was getting married. Harry was straight. And Harry would never want him. The very thought made him want to throw up. Sirius turned and walked into the kitchen. He was not happy, but, as always, he would conceal it behind his trademark sullenness and a temporary smile. Yet still how he longed to have his young and handsome godson in his arms for all of eternity and some time after that as well. He sat at the kitchen table, hands shaking. Who was he kidding? Harry marrying Ginny was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, counting the deaths of James and Lily. Sirius almost felt like he had betrayed them, by falling in love with their son who he had been sent to protect, not molest, so for many years Sirius had remained as distant as his heart could bring him to be, but now he was on the verge of snapping. He wasn't even sure if Ginny was right for Harry. In fact, he was certain she wasn't. But what could he do about it now?

Sirius' thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door to 12 Grimmauld Place opening. He clutched his wand and jumped to his feet. There were still some loyal Death Eaters evading capture.

"Sirius?" called out a familiar feminine voice.

Sirius lowered his wand lazily.

"I'm in the kitchen, Hermione. You want a cup of tea?" he called out to her, walking across the room and switching the kettle on.

Hermione came in, shaking her umbrella, and smiling in her persistent goody-goody way.

"I'd murder a cuppa right now, thanks Sirius." She hung her soaked through coat in the hallway and pulled herself out a chair as she sat down in the kitchen with him.

She glanced at her friend's face and a frown crossed her own.

"You look like someone just told you Harry's dead, Sirius! What's wrong?" she asked, voice etched with concern.

"Nothing you'd care about," muttered Sirius darkly, but not loud enough for Hermione to hear. Instead he shrugged.

"I've been having insomnia lately, that's all. I'm fine."

And Sirius didn't let Hermione push the matter any further.

***

Months passed, and as Ginny and Harry got more and more excited about their wedding, Sirius fell into a pit of despair, ever growing larger and consuming him wholly. He woke up later every day, and drank a hell of a lot more each night. He sat in a depressed state, unable to talk to anyone or do anything but waste his life away. During the second week he had put a locking curse on the front door after Remus got in and poured away all the alcohol in the house so Sirius had to counjour up more. Now entering the eighth week of his depression, it was 21^st June, though how Sirius could even read the calendar was beyond him now. As he sat wasting, the door began to bang. Sirius didn't take any notice, knowing whomever was at the door probably wouldn't get in, though he was quite surprised that Remus and Hermione hadn't given up yet. So he was more than mildly surprised as Harry bounded into the room, looking flustered, wand raised. Sirius choked on his mouthful of gin as Harry looked around, mouth agape.

"Sirius... How did it get into such a mess? Have you not tidied in two months or something?" he gasped, snatching the gin from Sirius' hands. Sirius looked blatantly at his lap, eyes ashamed he had to be seen this way by Harry no less.

"Sirius... What's wrong?" Harry pulled Sirius' chin up to look at him and smiled. "I'm meant to be the child here, GODFATHER. So stop being childish, by locking yourself in here and drinking your life away, and grow up!"

Sirius glared at his unknowing Godson. How could he speak of such things whilst having no idea whatsoever as to what he was hiding from?

"Now, is there any room in this house that's actually still clean?" snapped the nineteen year old. Sirius nodded.

"My bedroom," he said blankly. He was telling the truth: He'd been sleeping on the sofa for the past two months.

"C'mon then, we'll talk up there. I'll sit in fear of a rat trying to chew on my shoes if we stay in here," bit Harry angrily, yanking Sirius up by his arm and leading him up the stairs. Strange how Sirius had dreamed of a moment like this, except in his dream he wasn't drunk and Harry wasn't blazing with anger.

Harry sat on the edge of Sirius' bed and beckoned Sirius to join him. Sirius did without hesitation, sobering up almost immediately for an odd moment where he felt all his dreams might come true yet.

"Sirius... What's wrong? No masks, no secrets, just us." Harry smiled softly and laid his hand on Sirius', sending a shiver up the older man's spine.

"Don't hide from me, Sirius. I can see what's really wrong. It's okay, Sirius, I'm here to make it okay."

Harry's hand stroked down Sirius' cheek, and before Sirius knew what was happening, Harry's tongue was in Sirius' mouth, exploring roughly and widely. Sirius responded eagerly, ignoring all the warnings his brain was sending off and the immensely dark feeling of dejavu that swept over him as he was pushed backwards by the scrawny yet immensely powerful youth at who's entire mercy he was lying under. Harry's hands worked at Sirius' shirt's buttons fast and effectively, tearing his shirt from his well-toned chest within seconds. Sirius' still alcohol influenced brain had slightly more trouble fumbling with the buttons on Harry's shirt, impatiently tearing it from Harry's wiry frame after ten seconds, and sliding his hands down until he pushed the linen trousers and boxers away and his hands ran over skin as soft as silk. Sirius himself had already been undressed and now it was bare flesh on flesh, arousal heating the whole room, nothing mattering but the deep lust of both men, and their wants that had been hidden for so, so long. Sirius' fingernails dug into Harry's back, moaning and whimpering in pleasure as Harry smirked down on him. Both men tossed and turned in the sheets in pleasure for what felt like an eternity of dreams. They slowed down, both panting, and Sirius wrapped his arms around his nineteen-year-old godson.

"Harry?" Sirius questioned softly. Harry laid a silky finger on Sirius' lips.

"We'll worry in the morning. For now let's enjoy our only moment."

Sirius nodded to the wise words of the young man enveloped in his arms. He seemed powerless to Harry, but he wasn't exactly fighting him off. And had no intention to. He just wanted the one night where he could sleep with the man he loved lying in his arms.

***

Sirius awoke to find his bed empty and his heart hurting. It had all been a dream, it had all been a dream... Sirius kept telling himself that the one night he wished for was only a dream... That was, until he found Harry's boxers lying askew on the floor. He smiled crookedly, but then began to wonder where the hell Harry had gone. What was the date? Sirius looked up to the clock. 22^nd June. What was so significant about that date? Sirius rubbed his eyes and climbed into his trousers, before staggering across the room and gazing at the calendar. The date was circled in red and clearly stated,

"Harry's Wedding"

Sirius nearly screamed. He had to use all his willpower not to cry. Harry was marrying Ginny. Today. And now he had gone to fulfil his vows to the woman, even though he loved Sirius. Well this time Sirius wasn't having it. He pulled a shirt on over his bare muscled chest and raced out of the bedroom, down the stairs and out of the door to 12 Grimmauld place before he'd had the time to think it through. He stood on the doorstep, and within seconds, he was gone, to The Burrow, to stop Harry making a huge mistake.

Sirius arrived, breathless, in Molly Weasley's uncharacteristically deserted kitchen. He ran out into the garden, determined to stop this sham marriage that instant.

"I do."

"And do you, Harry James Potter, take this, Ginerva Weasley, as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, through rich and poor, until you both shall die?"

Sirius arrived, breathless, at the end of the aisle. Harry glanced backwards, at Sirius, did not meet his eye, and unhesitatingly said,

"I do."

"Then you may now kiss the bride."

Sirius didn't even hear the cheers and applaud erupting around him. His eyes were blurred with tears. The wedding wasn't a sham. He was. Harry had used him, shown him all his dreams and shattered them in such a blinding light Sirius couldn't tell what was happening until too late. He turned on his heel and ran, faster than he'd ever ran before. His lungs felt like they were on fire, and his heart felt as if it had been ripped out and thrown into the sea. Tears streamed down his cheeks, each one leaving a trail that burnt like acid. Harry had lied. Harry wasn't coming back. And Harry had never wanted him. Sirius didn't stop running, not even to apparate away from the horrible scene that gave his mind such a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sirius reached a bin and retched, bringing forth vomit for all the trust and love his inconsiderate godson had just brought forth in such an uncharacteristic and malicious way. He pulled himself up and noticed a bushy-haired female in a gold bridesmaids dress tailing him, so he continued running until his lungs practically burst. He turned around. She was gone. He took a shaky breath of relief, turned back the way he was going, and looked straight into Hermione's angry eyes.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Her agonising voice was something Sirius definitely didn't need right now, but he didn't even have the energy left to lie to the inquisitive 19-year-old.

"Away from here. Anywhere away from this god-damned place!" he yelled, eyes brimming with tears. The tall and frustrated bridesmaid laid her hands forcefully on Sirius' shoulders.

"Sirius! Come to your senses! We all loved Harry! But we've all got over it! Why are you worrying about whether Ginny will look after Harry or not? You know he'll be happy so let it go!"

Sirius' shocked eyes met Hermione's with a hollow laugh.

"You think this is about guarding Harry? You can't even begin to understand, Hermione! You can't even begin!" he yelled angrily, pulling away from Hermione's grip as he apparated away from the scene.

At Grimmauld Place it was raining.

Perfect, thought Sirius as he walked sullenly through the puddles.

"Sirius!"

Damn. He should've known Hermione wouldn't give up that easily.

"Sirius stop! Please! Why won't you listen to me?"

Sirius sped up. The rain came down harder. He heard Hermione stop behind him.

"I know where Harry was last night, Sirius."

Sirius stopped dead. He felt like something invisible was ripping him apart again. He whipped round angrily.

"That's nice dear. Making a rota are you? Yeah, Harry was at mine with me last night. Well whoopedty fucking do! Harry married Ginny! Big fucking deal!" he snapped, eyes ablaze with anger and tears. However, something in the soggy girl's eyes stopped him from turning back. She intrigued him, the pleading in her eyes was something he could neither ignore nor mock.

"Sirius... please. I know you're hurting. I know that Harry betrayed you and he betrayed Ginny, and you know what?"

Hermione took several steps towards Sirius and took his cold, pale hands in her own.

"You deserve better. You'll always deserve better than your no-good heartbreaker of a godson. Never forget it, and never walk away from those who care!"

Sirius' shocked look could tell a story. Hermione cared? Hermione believed he deserved better? Sirius dropped her grip, looked down, and began to walk away. She was crazy.

"Sirius..." the soft voice stopped him again, but Sirius didn't know why. A friend's true voice was something that had never existed in his world and he had thought never would again. But here stood Hermione, £500 dress getting soaked in the rain, for him. He closed his eyes. He was going to regret this, he just knew it.

"C'mon Hermione, I'm not leaving you in the rain."

Hermione hurried after him, and with a glance to her, Sirius could see the tears streaming down her young face from her hazel eyes. Why? Was Hermione crying for him? Sirius shook these thoughts from his head as he unlocked the door to 12 Grimmauld Place and let Hermione in ahead of him. The feelings of a girl were something he'd never understand. So weepy, so full of emotion they were ready to pour out of their souls at a moment's notice.

They MUST store excess emotion in their bosoms, thought Sirius to himself as he grabbed the tea towel off the kitchen side and threw it to Hermione.

"Dry your hair before you die of a cold, Girl."

Hermione did so without arguing, never taking her hazel eyes off Sirius as he grabbed another and rubbed his dark hair dry roughly, then put the kettle on and summoned two cups, teabags and a lot of sugar for one of the cups. He then sat at the table whilst the cups of tea made themselves and buried his head in his hands. Hermione stepped up behind him and laid her hands delicately on his shoulders.

"Sirius..." she started, but her words died away as Sirius looked up.

"Don't try, Hermione. I was and always will be a fool. Maybe it's a fact of life that I'm destined to love those who have no inclination to love me back. Oh yes, Harry is so like his father... The likeness is uncanny..." Sirius trailed off bitterly as Hermione's grip loosened on his shoulders and she took the seat opposite as the two cups of tea clattered in front of them. Sirius, undoubtedly, took the one with more sugar than tea and held it in shaking hands.

"You... and... You and James?" asked Hermione gently, taking her own cup of tea. Sirius nodded.

"Well, of a sort... He trailed me along, for pleasure, and then married Lily with me as his best man. It tore me apart. That bloody family. Why do they have to plague me?"

"Sirius, it's not your fault."

The tone in Hermione's voice made Sirius look up. She was sat, determined look in her eyes and had banged her cup of tea down on the table.

"It'll never be your fault, Sirius. Just because Harry and his father before him were so damn heartless, doesn't make it your fault damnit!" Hermione said this forcefully, then took a deep breath and smiled at Sirius. Sirius looked gob smacked.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" he asked slowly. Hermione smiled.

"I'm your friend Sirius. No-one has the right to make you feel you have to push me away. Not even Harry Bloody Potter." Sirius smiled back at Hermione. She cared. Not in a way where she wanted to make hot raunchy love with him, but in the way of a true friend. That was what true love was. He smiled as he finally understood, a true smile unlike any he'd smiled for years.

"Thankyou, Hermione. Thank you so much."

The world seemed to regenerate itself around Sirius as he as Hermione both laughed, on the inside and out, for the first time in the past five years..