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The fire at the Potter household burned low that night, casting a dull orange glow against the walls, shadows stretching long and restless. Sirius sat hunched in one of the armchairs, arms wound tightly across his chest as if holding himself together. He had told James he was tired, had deflected with his usual careless grin, and James, thankfully, had gone upstairs without pressing. But the grin had felt thin, brittle. Sirius knew if James had looked longer, if he had asked even once more, it would have broken apart.

The truth was, he couldn’t sleep. His skin still crawled from the memory of his mother’s nails digging into his scalp, her voice slithering through his skull. “Tainted, just as he was…” The words had been foul enough, but it was what she had seen, what she had pulled from him, that curdled Sirius’s stomach. That shame was his alone, and he had no idea how to live with it now that it had been dragged to the surface.

He stared into the fire until it blurred, willing his thoughts to silence. But they kept circling back—her sneer, the way she had looked at him, and most of all the truth he’d hidden for so long: Remus’s hands, his mouth, his smile that Sirius caught himself watching too long. All the things he could never admit. Not to James, not to. Peter and especially not to Remus.

He pressed his palms hard against his knees, almost enough to bruise. His heart hadn’t slowed all evening; it was still thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird.

“Sirius?”

The voice startled him. He looked up to see Euphemia Potter standing at the edge of the room, her dressing gown pulled close around her, a cup of tea balanced in her hands. Her expression was soft, but her eyes, always sharp, always knowing, were fixed on him with concern.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked lightly, stepping further inside. She set the cup down on the low table, then sat in the chair opposite his. For a moment, she didn’t press. She simply let the fire pop and crackle, her presence warm and steady.

Sirius shrugged, his throat dry. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Euphemia studied him quietly. He hated how easily she could see through him. “James told me you were quiet this evening. That usually means something’s on your mind.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Sirius muttered, his voice low. He leaned back in the chair, forcing a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Potter. I’m always fine.”

“You know,” Euphemia said gently, ignoring his bravado, “you can always talk to James. He cares about you more than you realise.”

The words made Sirius’s chest tighten. He looked away, focusing on the fire. “Yeah, well… I don’t know about this. I really don’t want him to know.”

Her brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t push. “Hm. What about Remus, then? I think you two understand each other better than anyone else sometimes.”

Sirius’s heart gave a violent jolt. He sat upright, shaking his head too quickly. “No! Not him. Sorry. Not… no. Not him, either.”

Something flickered across Euphemia’s face, surprise, a small piece sliding into place, but she smoothed it over at once. Her tone stayed calm. “All right. Not him.”

The silence pressed in, broken only by the hiss of the logs. Sirius’s leg bounced restlessly; he dug his nails into his palms. Part of him wanted to flee, to vanish upstairs before the words tumbled out. But another part, smaller, desperate, ached for someone to hear, someone safe.

“You know…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “When she went into my brain… she saw something.”

Euphemia leaned forward slightly, her hands folded. “Yes?” she prompted softly.

Sirius’s mouth went dry. He glanced at her, then away. “And she saw Remus.”

There it was. Out in the air, and Sirius’s stomach dropped like a stone. He braced for disgust, for sharp questions. Euphemia’s expression shifted, eyes widened. She was clearly worried.

“Oh…” she murmured. “Did she see his transformation? That’s…”

“No.” Sirius cut her off quickly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that.” His hands trembled in his lap; he clenched them tight. “It’s… it’s different.”

“Different how?” Her voice was steady, coaxing.

Sirius swallowed hard. He wanted to bolt. Every second stretched unbearably long. His breath came shallow, his throat tightening. He dug his nails harder into his palms until it hurt.

“I can’t…” He broke off, half rising from his chair as if to escape. But Euphemia’s hand reached gently across the table, resting just close enough to stop him without trapping him. “No , Sirius, if that’s something you worry about, i want to know it. Please ” she murmured. “Explain it to me, take your time.”

Sirius dropped back into the chair, staring at the fire until the flames swam in his vision. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. Finally, in a whisper that barely carried, he said, “You know Remus is… tall. And his hands and… lips. Well.” He winced, every syllable burning. “She saw the way I saw him.”

The shame hit hot and fast. His throat seized, he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to take it back, to run upstairs, slam the door, never come down again. He half-pushed up from the chair, but Euphemia moved quickly, rising with surprising grace for her age and pulling him into a firm embrace before he could bolt.

“Oh, darling,” she said softly, her voice warm with certainty, “that’s all right. He’s a nice young man, you know. So it’s…”

“That’s the problem.” Sirius’s voice cracked again, sharp with panic. “Everyone likes him. He’s brilliant, clever, kind. So it’s not like I have a chance. And I don’t even know how to…how to be around him anymore. What if he sees it? What if he sees how I feel?”

Euphemia’s thumb brushed lightly against his shoulder. “And how do you feel about him, Sirius?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. The answer clawed at his throat, terrifying and undeniable. “I… you know, I used to make fun of James. Said there’s no way someone can feel so much about a girl. But when we were talking, and I was… I felt so scared because I think I… I think I feel the same about Remus. How James feels about Lily.” His chest heaved. The last words came out in a broken rush. “I feel like I… love him.”

The room went still. Sirius’s breath came in ragged bursts, his vision blurring. He pulled back a little, trying to retreat, but Euphemia held him firm, her hand cradling the back of his head. “No, don’t run from this,” she murmured. “Stay.”

And then she hugged him tighter. For a moment, Sirius stiffened, trembling like he might shatter. Then the dam broke, and he let himself sink against her, swallowing hard against the sting in his eyes. She held him closely, one hand smoothing his hair in slow, steady strokes.

“Sirius,” she murmured, her tone unshakable, “I’ve known you a long time. I’ve seen you and Remus together. He cares for you a great deal. I can’t promise he feels the same way, but I can promise he won’t be angry, or cruel, or anything you fear. He’s a very sweet boy. I can see why you love him.”

A choked laugh broke out of Sirius, halfway between disbelief and relief. He buried his face deeper in her shoulder, letting her words anchor him.

“And another thing,” Euphemia added, her voice taking on a steel edge. “That woman can think whatever she likes, but if she ever tries to do something to my son again, she’ll be the one cursed. Do you understand me? You don’t have to fear her here. You are safe.”

Something twisted painfully in Sirius’s chest, loosening for the first time in years. She had called him her son. Not James’s friend. Not a guest. Her son.

He almost started crying again.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Euphemia kissed the top of his head, her hand never leaving his shoulder. “Always, darling. Always.”

For a long while, they sat by the fire, neither speaking. Sirius’s breathing slowed, steadied. His heartbeat quieted at last. The house was still, safe, the shadows no longer threatening.

Finally, Euphemia pulled back slightly, cupping his face so he had to look at her. “You don’t have to decide what to do right now. About Remus, or about how you feel. But don’t carry it alone. Not anymore. Do you hear me?”

Sirius managed a small nod, throat too tight to speak.

She smiled faintly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Good. Now, let’s get you upstairs. You’ll feel better with some sleep.”

For once, Sirius didn’t argue. He followed her quietly up the stairs, feeling raw but strangely lighter, as if some unbearable weight had shifted just enough for him to breathe. And though he still trembled with the fear of what might come, he knew, at least here, at least with her, he was not alone.