Harry wasn’t allowed to touch the front door.
He knew that. Daddy said it was dangerous. That people were always watching. That if he opened it—even a crack—they’d come.
“Who?” Harry had asked once, curled up in Sirius’s lap, his knees pulled tight to his chest.
Sirius’s smile hadn’t reached his eyes. “Monsters, pup.”
“But you said monsters weren’t real.”
Sirius’s arms had tightened around him. “That was before.”
That was when Mummy was still alive.
Now, Harry didn’t ask questions. He colored. He stayed quiet. He sat when James told him to sit and spoke when Sirius gave him the nod. His world was four walls, five rooms, and two men with wild eyes who loved him too much and not quite right.
James paced in the kitchen like a wolf in a cage. The kettle was whistling, but he didn’t seem to hear it.
“Too loud,” Harry whispered, covering his ears.
Sirius walked over and took the kettle off the burner. “We’ll get a quieter one,” he said, even though Harry had never been outside to help pick anything.
James turned sharply. “Where’s Harry’s blanket?”
“Living room,” Sirius said, calm like always. “Same place it was an hour ago.”
James strode out, muttering, “He needs it. He needs it, Pads, he gets cold—”
“I’m not cold,” Harry said, poking his head around the corner.
“Harry.” James crouched instantly, arms open. “Don’t say that, you don’t know. You always get cold. You don’t know, sweetheart, you’re only little.”
Harry didn’t argue. James hugged him too tightly, fingers digging into his small back.
“You’re all I have left,” he whispered against his hair. “I won’t lose you too. I won’t.”
Harry didn’t understand all of it. But he knew that when Daddy said those things, he wasn’t allowed to pull away. So he stayed still.
At night, the doors locked with magic Harry couldn’t see. The windows clicked shut with invisible hands. James’s wand stayed on the table by the bed. Sirius slept in the living room, always facing the door.
“You’d tell me if anyone tried to take him, wouldn’t you?” James asked one night, standing in the hallway outside Harry’s room.
Sirius didn’t even look up. “I’d kill them before they got near.”
“Even Remus.”
James didn’t smile, but his shoulders relaxed. “Good. Good. You’re the only one I trust.”
Harry lay awake under his blanket, listening. He didn’t remember Remus very well, didn't remember anyone but Uncle Padfoot and Daddy.
“Can we go outside?” he asked one afternoon. He was careful to sound gentle. He was careful with everything.
James’s hand twitched around his teacup. “Why?”
“I… I wanna feel the sun.”
Sirius looked over from the window, watching.
“No,” James said. “Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“No, Harry.” James’s voice was sharp. “I told you. It’s not safe out there. You want someone to snatch you off the street? You want to disappear and never see me again? Is that what you want?”
Harry’s lips trembled. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No, Daddy.”
James stood, crossing the room in two steps. He knelt and took Harry’s face in his hands, too rough to be comforting.
“I do this because I love you,” he said, voice shaking. “You’re all I have left. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“I love you more than anything.”
Harry nodded.
James kissed his forehead, long and trembling, like he was scared Harry would vanish between blinks.
That night, Sirius sat with him in bed. The house was dark. James had gone to cast more protective charms on the perimeter.
“You ever think about her?” Sirius asked softly.
Harry looked up. “Mummy?”
“Yeah.”
Harry hesitated. “She had red hair.”
“She did.”
“She sang.”
Sirius blinked hard. “She did that too.”
Harry fiddled with the edge of his blanket. “Would she let me go outside?”
Sirius was quiet for too long.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “She would’ve.”
Harry stared at the ceiling, hands clenched in the sheets.
“I miss her,” he whispered.
Sirius kissed the top of his head.
“Me too, pup.”
But neither of them said it loud enough for James to hear.