Now that Sirius has given the emotion a foothold, it's strictly instinct that's keeping him attached to her, his head still pressed against her shoulder, shaky breaths filling the little space between his chest and her back. They're each of them in their own prisons now; she doesn't understand what he meant, but it doesn't matter.

He can't stay away; nothing is ever safer when he's around anyway. They'll just have to wallow in that harsh reality together.

At length, he huffs out a loud breath, hooks his chin over the top of her shoulder and just closes his eyes. "She's gone," he manages at length, voice stronger but rough, like those first days out of Azkaban.