At the small, embarrassed voice from across the room, Sirius froze and his gaze snapped up. Any awkwardness he might have felt at being caught, or worry at what Harry's opinion of what he'd seen might be, was completely overshadowed. There was his godson, his precious Harry who he'd had and lost, and had again so briefly before they were separated yet again. And Sirius had thought it would be a good, long while before he'd get to see the boy again. As it should have been. As much as he missed Harry, he never could have wished for Harry to join him where he was before his time.
But there he was, alive and well and looking younger than when Sirius had last seen him, but Harry none the less. And there was nothing to feel about it but joy. "Harry," he breathed, grinning slowly. With a last squeeze to Remus's shoulders, he stood from the couch (bloody hell, when had his legs become this shaky?) and followed his blushing godson into the kitchen. Before anything could be said-- or stuttered-- about what Harry had walked in on, Sirius hugged him. "Harry."