The soft clinking of metal haphazardly tapping together filled the room as Sirius' hand fumbled with the thin black belt. He swallowed thickly as the small clasp fell undone. He felt the boy, so young not even Hogwarts age yet, lean back against him, the child's small hands loosely gripping his sleeves.

His dear godson was just so small and delicate, like one of those fancy dolls that he'd seen Narcissa with as a child. He was short and slight and Sirius didn't know whether he liked or hated it. Harry was just so different from the last time he'd seen him. Then he'd been small too, but he was full of color, of life, and he was plump and giggly and baby colored but now... Now he was ashen pale all the time, as if the sun had never laid eyes upon him and his limbs were thin and so utterly breakable.

As he leaned down and kissed his godson's bare shoulder he realized that he both loathed and was grateful for his time in Azkaban. He knew that Harry would have been very different if he'd had been there to raise him, but since he wasn't all he could do was be grateful for Azkaban's harshness. He knew that the Sirius that existed before Azkaban would never have been able to do half the things he did now.

Sirius took in the familiar sight of Harry's emaciated body as the child wrapped his arms around his neck, while he gently lowered his godson down onto the motel bed and pressed his cheek against Harry's bare thigh. Yes he was grateful for Azkaban because now he never had to deny his Harry anything he asked for.