HP one shots

Every You, Every Me // Sirry

Summary:

The letter arrives one week before the vision: Sirius is safe. It's a trap.
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The letter arrives one week before the vision. Hedwig offers it to Harry when he visits her up in the owlery: a small scroll tucked into her mail pouch, folded and rolled until it takes up minimal space. Harry strokes her feathers in thanks, then opens it.

Sirius is safe. It's a trap.

It makes no sense. Harry rubs his thumb over the dried ink.

He looks to Hedwig. "Who gave this to you?"

Her answer is inscrutable.

Later, on a wild hunch, Harry tears off a piece of scrap paper and writes the same message. He compares it to his missive. The handwriting is the same.

A shiver runs down Harry's spine.

And yet, when the time comes, Harry trusts the letter, and he ends the year with the strange feeling that he has narrowly escaped a tragedy. He hugs Sirius extra tightly before he returns to Privet Drive.

Over time, the letters continue to come. Harry learns to act on this knowledge immediately, throwing himself into deciphering what each letter refers to. He learns fiendfyre before he knows what a horcrux is, saves Dumbledore before he knows the headmaster is in danger, and destroys Voldemort so thoroughly that he is gone from this earth in all his parts and pieces.

I hope this helped, says the only letter to arrive after Voldemort's death. I wasn't so lucky.

There is no way for Harry to write back.

Instead, he burns each letter and says his thanks to the flames, hoping the hand that writes the letters finds happiness. This letter, he tucks into Voldemort's funeral pyre, and watches it crumple into ash.

Next to him, Sirius says, "Do you think that's the last one?"

Harry nods. The fire warms his face. "Unless there's something worse than Voldemort on the horizon. But... our worlds are different because of his letters. I hope his is quiet, peaceful, happy. If there's trouble, we'll handle it."

"Don't get too cocky," Sirius replies. "Without anyone to pass you notes in class, you're just as clueless as the rest of us."

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbles, smiling.

He turns away from the funeral pyre. The notes made references to war, but there has been none in Harry's world. No second war, no storm of Hogwarts. Harry's handled it all with Sirius by his side and his friends at his back. It's a good life that his other self has provided him.

"Do you ever wonder why the letters started when they did?"

"He must have lost you," Harry says without hesitation. He looks to Sirius, finding him still gazing at the pyre. There's no doubt in his mind that, "And so he went looking for a way to save you. In the meantime, he found this, and he did some good deeds. I hope he found his Sirius. I wouldn't wish a life without you on any Harry Potter out there."

"A terrible life, indeed," Sirius says, amusement running through his voice.

A wave of fondness hits Harry. "I'd do the same if it were me. I'd look for you, anywhere. I'd find you."

At this, Sirius finally looks at him. "We just dealt with a man who tried to conquer death. Let's not tempt fate just yet with wild promises."

"I'm the master of death. I'm allowed."

"You think so?"

"Probably," Harry offers. "Besides, it's not like I plan to conquer London or make any horcruxes. All I'm saying is that I won't accept a world without you."

"Harry," Sirius says, shaking his head. Just his tone has Harry smiling.

"Sirius. I'm of age now, you know."

"You're incorrigible, that's what you are," Sirius tells him. "We're at a funeral."

"There's no one here to complain. Voldemort won't mind."

Harry chances a look to the pyre, making sure that Voldemort doesn't rise from the flames just to cockblock him. It's very much something the man would do, were he able. On far too many occasions in the past, Voldemort ruined Harry's days with Sirius with various acts of evildoing. Harry's hatred of him exacerbated because of it.

"All these letters have made you entirely too certain of everything," Sirius tells him, stepping closer. "Divination should be banned. It creates obnoxiously confident, handsome young men."

"Why fight my feelings when I know another me has already lost the fight?" Harry says with a shrug. "I love you. It's simple."

With a smile, Sirius agrees. "Yes, it is."

*

It's not the last letter, as Harry finds.

But the next one isn't a portent of doom, either.

I found him, the letter says, and Harry's heart is light as he hands it to Sirius over the breakfast table, feeding Hedwig a piece of sausage in thanks. It's only right that his letter-writing self found his Sirius, when Harry's own life is so happy and complete.

A life with Sirius is exactly what every Harry Potter deserves, Harry thinks.

‼️this story belongs to wynnebat on ao3‼️