harry potter · sirius black · remus lupin · angsty · comfort · trauma · friendship · marauders · vulnerable · canon
The Potter house stood quiet under a grey sky, rain tapping a soft rhythm against the windows. Inside, the air smelled of old wood and dust—and something heavier, the weight of a friend hiding broken wings. Remus climbed the stairs, past family photos, into the dim room where Sirius lay curled. The tangled hair, the hollowed eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, hand ghosting through the dark knots. Sirius jolted awake, panic flickering. "Hey, it's me, Pads. It's Moony. I'm here." But the question hung unasked: will you let me stay?