Shoulder Pillow

Chapter 18: Alright, Damsel

 Harry was more than aware that leading Draco into the cafe could mean putting him through one of the biggest embarrassments of his life—but he trusted Sirius to take it easy on him. Especially since it would be the first time either of them met the other. And he trusted Remus to make Draco as comfortable as possible, and Harry hoped that he would help to at least reel his godfather in.

Looking at Draco now, as they walked through the glass doors, Harry saw uncertainty and anxiety beneath the confident exterior he had plastered on his face. Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly as he spotted both Sirius and Remus. They both sat at a table in the corner by the window—Remus red-faced and clearly holding back laughter while Sirius waved them over as soon as he saw them.

A stroke of apprehension swiftly wrapped around Harry's heart like a clawed hand, each finger a fear that relentlessly dug into him. He knew, logically, that Sirius and Remus would like his boyfriend, and that Draco, in turn, would get along with them just fine. But the 'what ifs' of the situation nonetheless threatened to overpower Harry.

But then he looked down at Draco, and those talons around his heart loosened. The smile on his blond boyfriend's face had become somewhat more sincere, despite it being smaller.

"Remus," Harry greeted with a wide grin on his face, hugging the man after he stood up, "I think your kids have given you a few more grey hairs, mate."

Remus laughed and patted his back, squeezing his shoulder. "You have no idea, Harry." Smiling, Harry then pulled away and was immediately tugged into a strong embrace from Sirius.

Even though Harry wasn't the same thirteen-year-old boy that he'd been when he first met Sirius, the feeling of complete safety in his arms had never faded. Though he wasn't as naive and helpless as he had been, Sirius always embodied what Harry thought of as home. Sirius was a safe haven—he was family. He was the closest thing to a father Harry had ever had.

(Even if he hadn't been there for Harry's first word, his first steps, or his first day of school, he'd been there for Harry the way no one else ever had been. Sirius had saved him. The first night Harry had spent at Grimmauld Place, Sirius had held him close and spoken in a soft, soothing, comforting voice when Harry had jolted awake screaming from nightmares—and he had done the same every night after.

He'd been the one to convince Harry that therapy was a good idea. Despite Harry's reluctance to go at first, Sirius had coaxed and encouraged him until, one night, Harry had broken down sobbing in his arms, and finally realized that he needed this. To finally be able to tell someone. To be heard, after being silenced and broken for so long.

Sirius had seen his inner turmoil. He'd gotten Harry a dog as a way to help cope, allowing him to name him—Snuffles, of all things—and take care of him as a way to take care of himself)

His godfather nearly squeezed the breath out of Harry with how tightly he held him before reluctantly letting go. Sirius' quicksilver eyes lingered on Harry for a moment but quickly turned to look at Draco, who Harry knew had been standing slightly behind him with an awkward air surrounding him.

"You must be Draco." Sirius teasingly shoved Harry out of the way and offered the boy his hand, a warm smile on his face. "My son here has told me a lot about you."

Draco shook his hand with a smile, answering with a steadfast, "Yes, sir."

Harry saw the laughter coming before it burst from Sirius' mouth. "Just call me Sirius, please." Letting go of Draco's hand, the man looked back at Harry. "What nonsense have you been telling this poor boy that he thinks he needs to call me 'sir'?" Sirius shook his head with phony disappointment written across his face. "Really, Harry, it makes me feel old. You should know better."