It had been a week since you got sent on the mission. You were to retrieve a hostage from a death eater camp.

It didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to. They ended up finding you and… one thing led to another bit, by a vampire no less you are out cold for three days your body fully dying before the venom awoken you.

You Apparated in front of the potters with a soft snap. It was late. You were able to tell by the light coming from the house now most everyone was asleep. The only light that was left on was from the living room.

You were dreading knocking on that door, not knowing who would answer, you hoped it would be Sirius. That’s the only person you wanted to see, realistically, the first person you should see would be Dumbledore or Moody. but you just wanted to be home around the people you knew loved you.

You paced in front of Euphemia and Fleamont Potter’s home for several minutes before finally raising your hand to knock.

Your knuckles barely brushed the wood when the door opened.

Sirius stood there.

He looked exhausted — the kind of tired that sinks into the bones. His hair hung loose, his shirt wrinkled, his eyes red around the edges as if he hadn’t slept in days. For a heartbeat, he just stared. The world seemed to stop breathing.

Then, his wand clattered to the floor. “Merlin’s bloody—”

You couldn’t form words. Your mouth opened, but nothing came. The cold in your chest, that strange emptiness that had been growing since you woke in that cursed manor, seemed to swallow every sound you tried to make.

He reached for you like he didn’t believe you were real. His hands gripped your shoulders — hard, desperate — and his voice broke on your name. “It’s been a week,” he said. “We thought— I thought—”

You wanted to answer, to tell him you were sorry, to tell him you’d tried, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. “I… didn’t succeed.”

He froze, staring at you like the words had punched the air out of him. “What?”

Your throat burned. “The hostage. I— they found me. I didn’t—”

You stopped. You couldn’t say the rest. Couldn’t say what they’d done to you. You just stood there, trembling, the night wind biting through your torn cloak.

Sirius exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No, no, no, it doesn’t matter. You’re back.” His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing away something — blood, maybe — or dirt, or tears. You weren’t sure anymore. “You’re home.”

Home.

The word cut deeper than it should have.

You wanted to fall into him, to let his warmth chase away the cold seeping through your veins, but your body didn’t react the way it used to. The warmth didn’t reach you. The world felt muted, dim