!DISCONTINUED! Guardian of Death [A Harry Potter Fanfiction]

15:Note to self, Remus+alcohol=bad

A/N: Do you have any ships in mind that I should add?

After a good hour of balling his eyes out - to which of course Sirius would never admit for as long as he lived - the four finally sat down for a long and dreadfully emotional conversation that only ended with Henry beyond baffled at how much snot could come out of a person and his reserves of handkerchiefs seriously dented.  Alas, the price he paid for that warm sparkle in his precious little one's eyes...

The two were allowed to spend the night at the Peverell Manor, courtesy of Henry's lack of ability to withstand the power of Hannah's puppy eyes. She had taken the news surprisingly well and after proceeding to get properly acquainted with the pair she proceeded to physically drag both of them to her room and introduce them to all her toys. Sirius will never admit to having teared up at the sight of the plush stag placed oh so importantly at the head of her bed. Remus didn't even try to hide it, loudly blowing his nose into another handkerchief. 

After a day full of catching up and lots of emotional break-downs at the weirdest things - he still failed to understand how that poor fork had offended Remus' bloodline enough to make him break it - Henry collapsed on a chair in the drawing room. With a whish of his wand, he summoned a couple of glasses and a bottle of scotch. He poured the golden-brown beverage into each glass, mesmerized by the simple action's effect on him. He had gotten so used to using magic for everything, even silly mundane tasks, that he started to doubt whether this was an addiction or a benefit. 

His thoughts were interrupted by two light knocks on the open door frame. Without looking up from the liquid that shimmered underneath the light of the lamp he motioned to come in. The two wizards settled on the couch beside the fireplace with a twinge of unease. One day would not be enough to erase their doubts about him, Henry reasoned. Good, that meant they were smart.

His empty green eyes clashed with honey brown and then sharp black ones, as he motioned towards the drinks. They both took their glasses in silence. No words were uttered that evening, as none needed to be. They allowed each other the time to ponder, although not on the same matters. 

For some reason, Sirius felt wronged. He knew it was illogical, but be it due to shock or the alcohol in his system, the Animagus could not help but think that he should have been the one to look after Hannah. He had been friends with both Jams and Lily for literally decades yet this...this stranger, who he hadn't even heard of before was given full custody of his goddaughter without so much as a complaint. It was unjust, he knew, but Sirius felt that perhaps Peverell didn't deserve to take care of Hannah.

Remus was in shock, anger, and confusion all at once. Why had he been lied to like this? Deep inside he understood that a public appearance had to be maintained so as not to draw the attention of unsavory characters....Dumbledore...just the name alone now sent shivers of disgust down the werewolf's spine. Peverell had explained to them what that old bastard had done to his unofficial niece, forcing her to stay with Lily's wizard-hating muggle sister. Remus was appalled. 

Nevertheless, he could not fight the sliver of anger coiling around his heart. Why had this man allowed him to live with the impression that his friend's daughter was dead when this was clearly not the case. He had let Remus drown in self-hatred, thinking that if he had not been what he was and if he could have taken care of her none of that would have happened. He bloody mourned her! 

His agitation only grew as he thought about this more. His intoxicated brain even attempted at comparing Peverell to Dumbledore once, but the thought was quickly brushed away, the mere mention making the wizard sick.

Do you know the feeling one has when they are about to step into a puddle but it's too late to stop? Remus felt that right now, as he sprung up from the sofa and lunged for Henry, fists clenched and teeth bared. In that fraction of a second, he caught a glimpse of Sirius's widened eyes and Henry's hand flying to his wand, before stopping mid-motion, as if he was restraining his body from an unwanted reflex. 

He didn't remember when his fist collided with the wizard's face, nor when Sirius pulled him back as he raved and screamed and cried for with felt like the thousandth time today. Sirius gave up on restraining him halfway, crumbling beneath his own sorrow and anger, screaming incomprehensible curses at the raven-haired man who stood mutely. He took their barrage of curses, insults, and threats without a hint of emotion slipping through his expressionless mask.

When their bodies finally gave up, the two crumbled to the ground like two rag dolls. Henry stared down at the men who had been his pillars of support for a while during his past life pityingly. Perhaps death had turned him heartless, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. Their cries subsided into sniffles and a heavy sigh left the wizard's lips. It was pathetic, but he could not help them with this. Henry hoped- no, he knew they would be strong enough to pick themselves up and face the world again. 

With a flicker of his wand, he levitated the bodies out of the room and into their respective temporary quarters. He left the scotch on the table, too preoccupied with thoughts. Mopsy, bless her soul, was sure to find and put it away before either of them woke up the next morning.

It was all so strange to him, Henry pondered, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring daggers into the mirror on the opposite wall. The incident had left him unaffected, much to his confusion. His cheek was already beginning to turn an unpleasant shade of purple. But he felt no pain. Nothing. As if he was not even human anymore.