the words of my wrist (the devil in silk and yet I yearn)

chapter 1

Harry knows the identity of his soulmate.

It is seared into the inside of his wrist, hidden underneath the band given to him by Sirius, and he doesn't want to see the words ever again.

(He doesn't have to. They're already imprinted into his brain and he cannot forget. He's already tried.)

His heart throbs with betrayal every time he thinks about it, wondering what power would pair him with such a soulless man. A man who can torture, maim, slaughter people and laugh at the misery he's caused.

Throughout fifth year though, with every cruel word, every callous remark, he took more from it than he'd originally thought. His hand is split open and bleeds—do not tell lies but do not anger people with more power than you but also do not be a coward, McGonagall says. Her attempt at protection was pathetic, Harry thinks—and his voice is silenced to where not even those he would call friends want to hear it.

Hermione says that he should do something about it. He has no interest in teaching those who hate how to protect themselves. If Voldemort isn't back, then they have no reason to protect themselves, he spits at her.

Ron says that he's been possessed and he needs to be stronger. He doesn't know how much stronger he can be. He already sees bodies at night, he already sees things that aren't from his eyes, and he already has to deal with the fact that the person who is supposed to be his is on the other side of the war.

Harry screams at night and he doesn't know much louder he has to get until somebody hears him.

---ooo---

On the 2nd day back at Grimmauld, Sirius curls up with him on a sofa in the Black Library as Harry stares sightlessly at a book about soulmates. They don't speak, they don't say a word, but Sirius wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses his temple.

"I know the feeling, pup," Sirius says sorrowfully. "I know the feeling."

Harry blinks, looking up at his godfather. "You know the feeling of?" he asks, gauging Sirius' reaction before spilling his guts out to his godfather. He wasn't sure how we would react.

Lips quirk into a sad smile. "Both of mine are dead; they were Death Eaters," Sirius responds, stroking his hair. "Barty Jr. and Evan Rosier. They had each other in Hogwarts and I was too angry to try to respond well to their approaches. They stopped eventually and I left a string of bodies behind just to hurt them more." Sirius shakes his head, laughing bitterly. "I was so stupid."

"If you could... if you could go back, would you change how you reacted?" Harry asks, unable to help himself.

Sirius' eyes shine with unshed tears. He bares his left wrist to show two sets of initials in black: B.F.C & E.S.R. "They change when you die. To just their initials," Sirius murmurs and then he shakes his head, pressing his wrist over his heart.

"I would change so much, pup," he whispers. "When we were on the battlefield, fighting, our magic never touched each other. My magic sang whenever I was close to them. We never spoke, never said anything, but neither did we hurt each other." A sad smile crosses over Sirius' face and Harry rests his head over Sirius' chest to ground his godfather.

Sirius clears his throat and wipes his eyes. "When... When Moody killed Evan, I thought I was dying," Sirius rasps. "It hurt so much, pup. I–It was actually me that, uhm, took Moody's leg but everybody thought it was Barty because he was known to be Evans' soulmate. My magic took matters into its own hands though and tried to do away with the man though. Somedays, I'm almost mad that it didn't work."