Summer's End

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the wonderful Rowling.

Author's notes: Wrote this a long time ago, just found it and thought I'd post it.

It was perfect.

Harry lay contentedly on the warm wooden floor, head resting comfortably in Sirius' lap, listening to the sounds that filtered through the open door and windows, along with the summer heat. Not a single breeze flitted in to alleviate the stifling warmth, but while at Privet Drive this would have annoyed him to no end, here it was just another facet of the perfection.

Harry opened his eyes and tilted his head back, to fix his green eyes on Sirius' sleeping face, resting comfortably against Remus' chest. The werewolf too was lying down, his face hidden from Harry, but he knew he was awake. His long fingers stroked Sirius' cheek gently, and Harry closed his eyes again with a small smile.

They still thought he didn't know. At first he'd dismissed their touching as just close friends', but on an afternoon very much like this one he'd discovered his error. At this time of the day it was too hot for anything but a nap, but instead of going to bed, they just lay down on the floor here, lazy and comfortable, most often the three of them asleep on each other.

But they didn't always all sleep. Sometimes one of them slept while the other two stayed talking. A few times they just lazed around, not even speaking, although awake. Harry found Sirius' and Remus' voices soothing, even when he wasn't joining in, lulling him into sleep.

It was on one of those days that he woke up lazily to hear them talking softly. He hadn't opened his eyes, feeling perfectly content, not wanting to move, and had heard them…their soft words of love, even softer sounds of kissing and the rustling of clothes as they occasionally moved, brushing against each other.

He hadn't been shocked, more…surprised that he hadn't realized before. It made him happy, to think that whatever happened, they had each other to return to. It had even made him smile, to hear Remus protesting softly that they shouldn't even kiss with Harry in the room, even if he was asleep.

"Why? You know he'd be fine with it," Sirius had responded, and Harry had felt a warm glow of pride that Sirius didn't doubt his love or trust for them both.

"I know…" had been Remus' soft reply, unhesitant. "But…"

"I know," Harry had heard Sirius chuckle. "You always were too shy for your own good when it came to this."

Harry had just smiled to himself, and pretended to be asleep until Sirius had woken him up by calling him 'lazybones', giving them all the time they needed to cuddle.

It was just…perfect. Not only had he gained Sirius, but also Remus as a father figure. He thought James and Lily would be truly happy about this. If only this summer could last forever.

Harry entered the small cottage, footsteps echoing on the wood in the small room inside. It was dark, and cold. The dying rays of the sun filtering through the windows weren't enough to illuminate the room, but it was enough to see that everything inside had been torn apart.

Stuffing from the couch littered everywhere, a wooden chair leg splintered and jagged lying on the floor, the chair it had been torn from lying abandoned and broken in the corner. Flies buzzed over some spoilt food which had been overturned on the floor. Shattered glass lined one corner of the room, glittering in the feeble sunlight.

Harry entered slowly, looking around, pausing in the middle of the room. Had Remus forgotten to take his Wolfsbane? he wondered distantly, or had it all been too much to take even for a tamed werewolf. He'd seen him quite recently, looking older and more tired than ever, fresh scars making him look more tattered than usual. He'd known that it been his own doing, the wolf running amok and causing himself more pain than normal.

Stepping over a curtain rail, he moved down the corridor into the bedroom. Contrasting sharply with the living room outside, everything here was pristine except for a thick layer of dust covering everything. He looked around for a while, before sitting wearily on the bed, covering his head with his hands. "Sirius," he whispered, no tears left to weep anymore.

Perfection had disappeared with the Veil. And not even defeating Voldemort would get him those warm, summer days back.

"Goodbye, Sirius…" he whispered. And as he got up to leave, he felt a ghostly brush of memory across his cheek.

And then the tears did come.