Sirius Black is lonely. He is tired, sad, and endlessly cold. His years spent in Azkaban weigh down on his back even years later. Even more so is the anger -- he had spent twelve years waiting because he had not got a trial. Twelve years, no trial. Is there not truth serum for a reason? Could they have not searched his mind? The truth was there and they ate lies like honey. 

Anger. He hides it because it does him no good but it's there; ever present. They drop his charges, say sorry, and that is all. No one is punished for their misstep, no one gives him their time or money because they trapped him in a land of darkness.

But he has Harry now, so it's okay. He has a chance for his very own retribution, so it's alright. That is what he tries to tell himself. That this is enough. He huddles by lit fires, stays up until the sun breaks through the darkness, and shakes when something makes a noise he doesn't recognize. He tells himself it's enough and knows it isn't.

He tries to readjust to life outside actual, literal, soul sucking depression, but he knows it's not working because he's been trying to readjust for quite some time.

In one of Sirius Black's tired, monotonous days in which no fire is warm enough, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger arrive through the Floo. They seem to be trying to be silent, which is a difficult task when A, you arrive through the Floo, and B, you are Harry Potter. "...check the cupboard," Harry is heard saying. "That's where she said it should be."

"Oh and Lovegood's proven herself to be the most trustworthy person," Hermione hisses back, wiping soot off her robes.

"She hasn't lied to us yet," Harry argues.

"A lie of omission is still a lie."

Sirius emerges wearily from the kitchen, watching them begin rustle through a broom cupboard that used to be filled with cursed artifacts. "...Harry?" he says, brow furrowed. Harry flinches. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at Hogwarts?" 

Harry turns back to him slowly with an obviously plastered smile on his face. "Sirius! We just wanted to visit you. It's been a while."

And the lonely part of Sirius wants to accept that answer at face value. He even imagines it. Brewing tea, baking cookies, and sitting down with his godson. Catching up. But Sirius is not just lonely, tired, and cold. They have been exchanging letters regularly, and none of them have mentioned Harry coming to visit.

So Sirius says, "Then why are you looking through my cupboard?"

Harry bites his lip in shame, but Hermione barely acknowledges him. She keeps looking. 

"I..." Harry says after a moment, "can't tell you."

"Why?" Hurt in his voice.

"Because you'll tell Dumbledore." He turns back to Hermione. "Can you find it?" 

Hermione pulls her back out of the cabinet, hair frizzing around her. "No," she says. "It seems we've cleaned it out over the summer."

Harry cursed. "We'll have to ask Kreacher." 

"Ask Kreacher about what?" Sirius interjects. 

Harry walks toward him very suddenly, grasping both his hands harshly in his own. "Sirius," he says seriously, "I need you to trust me."

Sirius is almost offended. He is asking for trust when not giving it. But he is only almost offended because there are things he will never tell Harry. Because he will likely tell their visit to Dumbledore, because it is Dumbledore who has always fought for him and Dumbledore who is giving him a chance for retribution that no one else has. Sirius will not ask for trust he does not deserve. But he will give it. So he says, "Okay," He says Okay and summons Kreacher. He retreats to the other room while they talk in hushed tones to the house-elf.

They leave with a small box in hand. They leave after hugging him, and promising to visit sometime, for real. 

Sirius sits in his cold, empty house and has never felt so alone. He almost misses the anger.