Chapter Text
There were many things that seemed different after the war.
Standing in front of Hog's Head Inn and smelling the savory stew and roasts in the air should have been comforting and mouth-watering, but Sirius Black could only feel his stomach cramp in anxiety. There was a pile of rubble where the candy and toy shop Zonko's used to be, and the bulletin board full of messages for missing family members was still overflowing. It only seemed to grow fuller now that the war was over.
Hogsmeade was haunted to him now, but he had no real choice except to stay.
Sirius could barely tolerate more than bread and water these days, but he had to try. Little ones needed more than a crust of loaf and cold well water to thrive, and Harry had a voracious appetite that could put most other toddlers to shame. At least that's what he imagined while trying to keep up with the feedings and the nappies. It was all he could manage most days – that and gathering wood for their modest stove. The boy wanted to be out in the snow and chill, but had to usually settle for playing with carved wooden animals and pulling the ears of the mutt that had moved in with them. It provided much needed warmth in bed with them, so Sirius didn't kick it out.
Harry called it Snuffles.
Trips to town for food were few and far between, pushed off as far as he could manage without actually starving the child and then he would stew in guilt as those large green eyes would take in the wonder of village life before inevitably crying in frustration when they left hastily. Most shopping days Ms. Sprouts would see him coming a ways off and have his groceries already picked and ready for purchase.
The military stipend he still received was barely enough and it couldn't do shit for the things that kept Sirius awake at night.
Things like ghosts and phantoms, visions and sounds, the heavy feeling of dead weight against his chest as he rocked back and forth.
The boy needed more to grow, but hell if Sirius knew what it was and if he could provide no matter how much he cared.
*****
There were many things that seemed different after the war.
Villagers didn't try to look you in the eye anymore and they didn't want to talk if they could avoid it. Too many soldiers returned home shell-shocked. Too many knew about what happened at the neighboring Godric's Hollow. Tankards of ale didn't seem so bitter anymore, but a necessity at the end of the day. The smiling face of the friendly village doctor was six feet under, and two war-time medics were wrangled into staying in town by the Hogsmeade's mayor. Dumbledore could be convincing when he wanted to.
Severus Snape hated being stuck in the village he swore to escape, but like a ghost who was ensnared in the magical bonds of limited existence, he could do nothing but haunt.
There was too much for any single doctor to tend to in the collection of towns and villages along the mountains, but Severus tried anyway. Madam Pomfrey mostly tended within the limits of the city and Severus made the arduous treks through mud, wind, rain, and snow every day to offer another change of bandage or a delivery of antibiotics.
A baby was born and he had to struggle not to drop it as his blood-covered hands and apron reminded him of another child and another night.
The ale did more than warm his belly in the evenings, but when he awoke in the mornings with shivering limbs and an achy head it couldn't keep the memories away anymore. Some days he gave in to temptation and started the drinks earlier, but some strange sense of responsibility to the people of this strip of mountain made him withhold more often than not.
The military stipend he received went straight to the little orphanage miles away at the bottom of the mountain.
He had no need for it when his expenses were covered for medical services rendered, and he preferred to have no more affiliation with the organization that demanded so much of him and then took even more.
Days were dragging by and Severus felt the emptiness settling more deeply into his bitter bones. There was no escape from these shackles or the ghosts that kept him company.