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[personal profile] traintracks
Title: Pages
Author: [personal profile] traintracks
Characters: Harry, Sirius (some UST), James/Sirius UST, Sirius/OFC
Rating: R
Challenge Prompt by [community profile] harry100 205: dreamless sleep
Words: 100x7
Summary: Harry reading Sirius' diary.
Warnings: Angst



Harry picks up the book, unable to sleep. It’s his third night reading it. For the first two days he had it in his possession, he hardly ate or spoke to his friends – nothing. Now the words speak to him more closely than a whisper straight into his ear:

‘First night here and I feel like I can breathe. I played it cool with Jamie. Didn’t cry. He’s asleep now. We’re sharing a room. I cast Muffliato cause this quill’s bloody loud.

Corn on the cob with dinner. First time. I ate five. So good.

I like it here.

S’



Harry flips through pages, sometimes skipping ahead, sometimes going back to the beginning and reading those first words over again:

‘My name is Sirius Black, and this is my shoddy, awful, terrifying life.’

Harry curls up in his bed with his wand lit low under the covers and remembers years curled up in a dusty closet, the sound of a Dursley on the stairs his alarm clock.

He reads about Sirius’ mother beating him with a belt and saying he’s no better than a Muggle. Harry hugs the blankets close and tries to feel strong, unwavering godfather arms around him.


Two a.m. with an Herbology exam first thing, Harry yawns and turns a page and reads about Sirius’ first time. Harry reads how Sirius ‘sucked her tits’ and how he almost ‘jizzed his robes’ and how she ‘did things with her mouth’ – and Harry is hard, embarrassed and confused, before Sirius says, ‘And fuck, I still wished it was him. I fucking wished it was him.’

Harry doesn’t have to work hard to know who ‘him’ is. He has to close the book, reorder reality, and fight insane jealousy and a thousand other things before he opens the book again.



He reads a year of Hogwarts, of pranks and laughs. Of unrequited love. Harry feels bad for Sirius, and he’s grateful James Potter broke his godfather’s heart and married his mother. And he’s sorry.

He reads Sirius off in the country in ‘the agony of wind’ throwing spells into the night after their death.

He reads drunk words of anguish. And then sober words about hatred and revenge.

‘I have to find him, the traitor. I have to kill him. And then I have to take care of Harry.

Whywhywhywhywhywhy WHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

He sees an uneven line disappearing off the page.



Three-thirty and the words have begun to blur until one catches his eye. The diary is three-quarters of the way through, and then

‘Suddenly, there is Harry. And he looks like he wants to kill me. And so help me, Merlin, I want to laugh. To rejoice. And when he fell on top of me, his wand to my throat, all I could think was that I had to have AWFUL breath, and I wanted to kiss his cheek.

Harry. Harry. Harry.’

He blinks at his own name. Then he holds the book to his chest, exhausted, undone, and cries.



Three minutes past four:

‘Dear Harry,

These words are intended for you.

I know I’ve died. I hope it was saving you.

Please don’t cry. Please just know I’ll never leave you.

What I wouldn’t give to hold you one more time.

Every entry in this bloody thing is for you.

Of all of them, I loved you the most.

Let me sleep now, and together we will dream.

I adore you. Always,

Sirius’

Harry sobs into his pillow. The book warms under him. His own words are all unsaid, and he can’t bear the sight of the last page.



Dawn rises. The tangerine light slips over the sill and onto Harry’s closed lids. He’s been sleeping without dreams, and when he wakes, he’s crushed anew.

He clutches the diary in his arms like a teddy bear, a talisman, lost love. Harry fights to go back to sleep. He doesn’t care about Herbology. Doesn’t care about Death Eaters or Dementors or Voldemort himself.

He shuts his eyes tight and sees Sirius emerge there out of the blackness.

‘I love you,’ Harry whispers.

‘I know,’ is the answer.

Harry sees the arms open for him, and he never wants to wake.

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