Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. That belongs to J.K. Rowling, who created the Harry Potter world. I simply twisted things around a bit, and so nothing you know recognize is mine. I take no ownership, and I am only writing this for fun.

Author's note: so, the AU here is that James survived that night and went on to raise Harry (I do believe this will bring on some characters changes, but I'll try not to make more than the plot calls for. Or as many as I can keep from doing. I've mentioned before I'm not good at fan fiction), along with Sirius and Remus. Also, I need to throw in my OTP, so this'll be Draco x Harry, too. I would appreciate any reviews, follows, and favourites, too (wink, wink). Anyway, please enjoy this prologue of sorts!

Prologue: Recollect

"No, not Harry!" Lily pleaded. "I'd rather die than let you kill Harry!"

The man before her took a tone of disgust. "Then you shall." He raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

Lily screamed as green struck her squarely in the chest, and fell to the floor, the collision echoing grotesquely throughout the nursery. But this noise did not cover Harry's wailing, which had began when his mother had raised her normally calm, serene voice. Being only fifteen months old, Harry could hardly understand what was happening. The only thing that really seemed to click within his mind was the fact that his mummy was not speaking any longer and the scary man who had attacked Lily was now advancing on him.

With another blinding flash of green, the curse hit Harry and bounced back at its caster, leaving Harry seeing only dark.

It was a few hours later that James Potter arrived back home with Sirius. When they came upon the scene, James's only reaction was shock.

"Lily," he whispered, sitting on the floor of the nursery with a thump.

Sirius took one look at his best friend so shocked to see his dead wife and said, "James, look . . ."

James, slowly, brought his eyes up to meet Sirius's. Sirius, with a shaky finger, pointed to the cradle in which Harry sat. The infant, while obviously sleeping, was breathing and quite alive.

"Harry's all right, James," Sirius said quietly. "He's all right. Just asleep, James."

"Lily . . . ," James said again, as if Sirius hadn't noticed her.

Sirius looked pained for a moment, before he gently lifted Harry out of the cradle. He sat down next to the man he'd known for ten years, had lived with for two, and had named Sirius godfather of his firstborn child. This was his best friend, and never before had he seen James's hazel eyes look so glassed over with emotion.

"Harry," James murmured, turning to face his son. "You're okay, Harry . . ."

"Dumbeldore needs to know," Sirius told James. "He needs to know what's happened . . ."

"I . . . I can't just leave her here, Sirius."

"I know. I would ask you to for long, James. But we need to think about Harry, James. He's in danger."

Sirius, too, had been shocked to see Lily Potter on the ground, a lifeless heap. Their lovely Lily, the brightest witch Sirius had ever met. Their charming, daring Lily. She'd always been so strong, so smart. And now she'd been taken out in one last stand to protect her son, whom she loved very much.

"I trust you, Sirius," James said, glancing again at his best friend. "Take Harry, contact Dumbledore . . . I'll be here when you come back. I promise."

Sirius looked uncertainly towards James, but agreed. James wouldn't want to lose his emotions in front of him, and he surely felt a desperate need to cry. He'd fancied Lily in their fifth year, and they'd fallen in love two years later. James surely wouldn't be able to handle this loss well. There would be no worse thing to lose than his wife, except maybe their son.

Their son. Sirius looked down to the young boy in his arms, and felt a large pang of sadness. Harry would have a difficult life ahead of him, without a doubt. Sirius hoped, with everything he had, that he would be there to help his godson through it all.

Within minutes of contacting the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore had arrived with McGonagall. Sirius led them back upstairs, after briefly explaining how Peter had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, not Sirius, to where James stroked Lily's hair, looking more wrecked than when Sirius had left.

McGonagall gasped sharply at the sight, whereas Dumbledore only appeared saddened. His blue eyes had lost their normal twinkle as he gazed at James holding his dead wife.

James glanced up at the two professors, and he looked up apologetically to McGonagall as he said, "I'm sorry, but the cat seems to have gotten away."

McGonagall shook her head. "No matter. Cats are flexible creatures—I'm certain she'll find her way."

"I suppose."

McGonagall had never before seen James Potter looked so dull. He'd always been lively, bursting with much energy. When he and Lily had announced their engagement, it had only been hours after the fact, thanks to James not being able to contain his excitement, and surely the entire world had heard by the end of the day. When Lily had turned out to be pregnant, he'd been even more thrilled than he had been over their marriage. Never had he been so lifeless as he was now, as he held dearly to the woman he loved very much.

"Lily protected Harry," murmured Dumbledore. "A mother's love runs quite deeply, doesn't it?"

The room grew quiet, save for James's occasional choked noises of sadness.

Then, Sirius asked, "Why is Harry still alive?"

"I would suspect," Dumbledore said, "that Lily protected him with her"—his eyes flicked to James, sympathetic—"sacrifice. It's an old type of magic, but surely the strongest. She loved Harry so much that it made him impervious to the Killing Curse as it was cast on him."

"Harry survived the Killing Curse?" Sirius said, surprised. "I thought it couldn't be survived?"

"He would be the first," Dumbledore agreed. "And he will surely be famous for that, and as the vanquisher of Lord Voldemort."

James frowned and said flatly, "That's not fair."

"No," Dumbledore said, "it certainly isn't. But Harry has already proven that he is strong. You, too, must remain strong. For Harry, James."

James swallowed. "Lily . . ."

"She loved you both," Sirius whispered, settling down beside James again. "Did a day ever pass where you didn't hear her say she loved you, that she loved Harry?"

"She can't love us if she's dead!" James snapped.

"James, I'm afraid I have to say differently," Dumbledore said. "I think Lily will be watching over the two of you quite carefully from now on. She will always love you. Love is a strong thing, James."

"Lily," James choked. "What about Harry? How's he supposed to get by without his mother?"

"Hey," Sirius said, giving a slight grin, "haven't me and Moony always been here to help you out?"

"More so Moony than you, I think," James said, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"Our family is looking rather hopeless, isn't it?"

James didn't respond, but his shoulders slumped a tiny bit.

"Well, I don't know the first thing about children," Sirius said apologetically. "Maybe Moony could help us out with that."

If anything, the conversation seemed to be steering James away from Lily and to Harry, instead. This was good. James had been so focused on Lily that rational thought had seemed far away, and he certainly should've been focusing more on his son.

"It's not safe here, Albus," McGonagall spoke up. "Surely we can't allow them to remain here."

"I don't want to," James said. "Stay here, I mean. I couldn't . . . Lily."

Sirius placed a reassuring hand on James's shoulder as he passed his friend his baby. Harry was still sleeping soundly, but now Sirius noticed something he hadn't when he'd picked Harry up before.

"Harry's hurt," Sirius said, pointing to the infant's forehead.

Dumbledore leaned down and inspected the wound. "A curse scar," Dumbledore explained. "It comes from the failed curse that Voldemort used against him."

James made a choked noise as he stroked his son's forehead.

"So it'll stay forever?" Sirius inquired.

Dumbledore nodded. "I expect there could be some side effects, but nothing overly large to worry yourselves over.

"For now," he continued, "I would suggest we go somewhere else—somewhere safe where you can rest."

"Lily," James croaked.

Sirius, too, looked a tad bit disgusted at the suggestion of leaving Lily behind.

"We'll have people over to bring her body back," Dumbledore reassured. "We will certainly have a proper funeral for her. Now, please, come with me. James," he added a bit forcefully, "Lily will be quite taken care of. Right now, you need to think about Harry. He needs you right now."

James swallowed. "I know." He pressed a kiss to his wife's cold cheek and whispered, "I love you, Lily," before standing up and following Dumbledore and McGonagall, only half-aware and lead by Sirius. He needed to think about Harry. Harry was his priority.

It would always be for Harry, James told himself fiercely. James would do whatever it took to keep his son safe—especially now that he had failed to keep Lily safe.

"Your mum was a wonderful woman, Harry," Remus said, smiling. "She was very smart."

"And quite good-looking," Sirius added, smirking.

James slapped his friend's arm. "I don't appreciate you talking about my wife like that, Padfoot."

Harry, now aged ten, had taken to asking his dad and "uncles" about his mother quite often. It was heartbreaking to know that he could not recall, but maybe it was better that way. At least he wasn't still wrecked over it like James was.

But James had done his best in the past nine years. Sometimes, it got bad, when he remembered their wedding, or Harry's first birthday. Those were the days when he began to realize just how empty his bed was without Lily lying next to him, her green eyes smiling as they slept wrapped in each other's embrace.

He'd made Harry his priority, always, and while he surely spoiled the boy, he knew that Harry was a good kid, the kind of person Lily would've raised. And that was all that mattered, knowing he was Lily's son, through and through.

"But what was she like?" Harry pressed.

"Well, she was always nice to everyone," Sirius said. "You know, the kind of person who only sees bad in people like your dad . . ." He grinned, winking at a scowling James.

Harry's eyes widened. "But Dad isn't bad!"

Remus chuckled. "Your mother didn't start dating him until they were seventeen. They were a bit mismatched for a while."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," James said, "she thought I was a jerk. I guess I sometimes was, but she always liked me, so she showed her affection in unkind words. She didn't think I was bad at all."

"Okay, what else was there about her?"

"She was a bit of a nerd," James said. "Liked her potions, that one did. Always had her nose dug in a book. The library was one of her favourite places to go."

"But you don't like to read," Harry said.

Sirius barked with laughter, and James smiled a bit. "No, I don't. I can't really focus on books, you know? They're boring, don't you think, Harry?"

"No!" he said indignantly. "You can learn loads from them!"

Remus gave a soft chuckle. "That's true, Harry. You'll do very well at Hogwarts with that kind of attitude."

Harry beamed. "You think so?"

"I'm sure you would anyway," Sirius said, "assuming you inherited your mother's brains."

"I'm smart, too!" James protested.

"Yes, but I also did offer my helping hand more than a few times," Remus retorted. "I'd feel more comfortable knowing Harry has his mum's smarts than yours. She, at least, didn't need to come to anybody because she hadn't been paying attention in class."

"She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she?" Harry asked.

"Where dwell the brave at heart," Sirius mused. "And she was brave, Harry. Very brave."

"She was also very creative," James put in. "She used to draw a lot. And she was quite good at that. Which was hardly fair, since she had such a knack for writing great essays."

"And loving," added Remus. "She loved you and your dad quite a lot, Harry."

"I know," Harry said. "She died protecting us, didn't she?"

James's chest tightened, and he looked Harry directly in the eyes—the beautiful emerald green eyes that Lily, too, had had—and said, "Harry, you mum loved you so much that she put herself in harm's way for you. She died protecting you. And, I know, were she here right now, she would do it again in a heartbeat. I want you to know that your mum loved you very much. And from wherever she is now, watching us, she's still sending all her love."

Harry looked down at his feet. "I know." Then, almost too quietly to hear, he whispered, "But I wish she hadn't died."

Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder and said, "I think it's time for bed, huh, kiddo?"

Harry stood and silently followed Sirius into his room.

Remus looked to James and said, "I didn't think he was so obsessed with her."

James nodded. "I think he wants to know her. Maybe it's going to school next year freaking him out. Maybe he's worried that all his classmates will talk about their mothers and he won't have anything to say about his."

"He doesn't . . . think it's his fault, does he?"

James bit his lip, and turned away. "I'm not sure," he said quietly. "But I hope not. He doesn't deserve that."

Remus said nothing else, instead turned to look back to the door Sirius closed behind him in which Harry was sleeping. James was right: Harry didn't deserve to think he was at fault for his mother's death.

"They're staring," Harry whispered.

It was true that most of the people on Platform 9 and ¾ were staring at Harry, James, Sirius, and Remus as they approached the Hogwarts Express. James gripped his son's shoulder tightly and said, "It's okay. They're going to stare for a while, Harry. Just make sure you're something worth staring at."

"Dad!" Harry said, appalled.

"Don't listen to him, Harry. He's just jealous because you're getting more attention than he ever did," Sirius said.

They had stared while they'd shopped for school supplies in Diagon Alley, too, but that had been easy enough to brush off, as Harry was more excited about the fact that he would be getting his school supplies, finally, and heading off to Hogwarts. Now, his enthusiasm had faded into nervousness, and he was noticing more the way people's eyes stuck to him.

"As if." James scoffed.

"Well, Harry, you'd better get a move on before all the good compartment are taken," Remus advised. "We'll write to you soon. Hedwig will be a great owl to keep us posted on your adventures, won't she?"

The snowy owl that Hagrid, Dumbledore's assigned guard for Harry's school shopping, had picked out hooted in agreement with Remus.

"I'm not sure my 'adventures' will quite live up to yours," Harry said, but he was smiling.

"Ah, well, I'm sure you'll be in just as much trouble as we were regularly in," James said easily. "But listen, Harry. I need you to make sure Snape gets what he deserves. And make sure to be good to McGonagall. She'll be the one to get on the good side of, after all."

"All right, Dad." Harry laughed. "I'll be sure to."

He hugged James, Sirius, and Remus and he turned to go off to the train with a "We'll be wanting to hear about all the rules you break!" called after him. Whether it was from Sirius, James, or Remus, Harry couldn't be sure, but he grinned nonetheless. The three of them had armed Harry properly with the things he would need for rule-breaking: James's Invisibility Cloak and the knowledge of all the secret passages in the castle. They'd apologized to him and told him that they would have given them the Marauder's Map, which they had made in their school years, if it hadn't been confiscated in their seventh year.

James watched Harry go, and never had he felt so empty. Now, he wouldn't see Harry again until Christmas, then not until the spring, and then not until summer. He hoped Harry would be all right without his guidance, but he figured Harry was wise beyond his years and quite capable of taking care of himself.

"He'll be all right," Sirius murmured. "He's Lily's son, after all."

"He is," James agreed. "He most certainly is."

The youngest Quidditch player at Hogwarts in a century, finder of the Philosopher's Stone, destroyer of Voldemort, Snape's most hated, Gryffindor, and total bender of the rules. Harry was living to meet all of James's expectations of him.

Lily, of course, was probably having a stroke as she watched over her son, but James couldn't be more proud. Even if Harry had made as many enemies as he had friends, it didn't matter. He'd broken through the barrier that had been placed on him when he'd been dubbed famous.

It was weird, though, Harry having friends. He'd never really had many friends, because James, Remus, and Sirius had worried about how his reputation might affect his relationships. But it seemed as though he had found great friends in Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

What had been so weird about it, though, was the request to go to the Burrow in the summer. Ron had written letters to Harry, and had requested he come and meet his family.

James had been reluctant at first, but he'd figured Harry needed the social exercise and had allowed it.

So, now, here he was, drinking tea with Molly Weasley.

"Harry's a delight," Molly said. "You seem to have raised him quite well. I admit, I had my doubts that you would be able to after Lily, but you seem to have pulled through quite well."

"Lily gave everything for him," James said quietly. "I figure I ought to, too."

"It's surely hard, though. I couldn't imagine being a single parent."

James laughed. "Oh, no, I assure you I have much assistance. Remus and Sirius have helped me quite a lot. We've raised Harry together, the three of us."

Molly smiled. "That's wonderful."

It was wonderful. James thought. It was absolutely astounding, how well they'd managed even without Lily.

"Your last one goes to Hogwarts this year, doesn't she?" James asked.

Molly nodded. "She's been excited over it for years."

"How will it feel to have a nearly empty house?" James laughed. "I know when Harry left, I didn't know what to do with myself. I'd spent so many years having him around for company that I was quite lost without him."

"You seem pretty close," Molly observed.

"He's had a hard life. He doesn't remember Lily, and that's hard on him. And he's famous, too, for something that nobody would ever want to be famous for. People really don't understand why he comes across as withdrawn, but I think he's a bit guilty."

"What does he have to be guilty for?"

"Lily died to protect him. I think he might feel worn down by that sometimes. Especially since everybody calls him the hero, when he wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for her. It's hard for him."

"I've never thought of it like that," Molly admitted. "He's always been a household name, you know? Nobody really considers what he's gone through. It's careless of us, really."

"I just think it's unfortunate. I don't know what I'm supposed to do for him."

"He's got to be strong, to go through what he has. I'm sure he can get through all this somehow. And, if he needs help, we'll do whatever we can."

"Thank you, Molly."

Molly simply smiled, and James was amazed at how such one small motion could cause so much reassurance. Her small curl of the lips brought James's hunched shoulders down slightly and he gave an almost inaudible sigh of relief. It was nice to know that somebody else was willing to look out for Harry. Some didn't even bother to look beyond his fame and instead based all their actions regarding Harry around that fact. And he'd never had a mother figure, either; maybe Molly could be that person.

James sometimes missed Lily quite a lot.

"You're going to be teaching?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

Remus chuckled. "I am."

"That's great!" Harry positively beamed. "All our other Defence teachers have been rubbish."

"Harry!" James scolded. "That's not the way you should speak about your teachers."

He rolled his eyes. "It's true, though. Lockhart was a fraud and Quirrel was actually Voldemort! Uncle Moony will be a much better teacher."

"That's Professor Lupin, to you," Remus said.

Harry grinned. "All right, then, sir."

Sirius frowned. "That just sounds weird. Moony, you aren't a sir. You . . . you're Moony!"

Ignoring Sirius's comment, Remus turned to Harry and said, "I could ride the train with you to Hogwarts, even."

"And you could make sure my grades were decent . . ."

"You take too much after your dad." Remus scoffed. "I'm not going to let you cheat, Harry. If anything, I'll down your grades. Just for that comment."

"It was just a joke!" Harry said, his green eyes—Lily's eyes, James thought with a pang—flashing with something that looked a bit like fear. "I didn't mean it! I'm already plenty good at Defence!"

"I know you are," Remus said fondly. "I wasn't serious, either."

"That's because I'm Sirius," said Sirius with an eye roll. "You must be having an identity crisis or something, Moony."

Harry snorted. "That was terrible, Uncle Padfoot."

"Ah, well, I tried," he said with a shrug.

James looked to Harry. "Harry," he said, "can you promise me something, since Uncle Moony will be at Hogwarts this year?"

Harry met his father's intense hazel gaze and shifted slightly. "Yeah, sure, Dad. What is it?"

"Can you not get yourself in trouble this year? I'm sick and tired of hearing all the crazy things Harry Potter's done. Everywhere I go, it's all about the things you've done in your past two years. And I'm sick of hearing about it. I, personally, would like some peace from worrying about you all the time."

"I can't make any promises," Harry said apologetically. "For one, it kind of runs in my blood, doesn't it?" At this, Sirius and Remuc smirked, but Harry continued, "And, for two, I don't try to get in trouble. I can't really help it that people want me dead, you know?" His voice turned bitter, and James felt it like a slap in the face.

"I'm sorry," James whispered. "But just try. I worry about you."

"I won't let him put a toe out of line," Remus vowed. "Well, as long as I can't see it," he added with a wink to Harry.

Harry gave a weak smile. He felt a bit shaky. He'd never really voice the fact that he thoroughly hated that he had people out for his blood before, but now he'd just let it slip and his dad was looking almost guilty, like it was his fault Harry was on Voledmort's naughty list.

It wasn't. It was Harry's fault, wasn't it? Harry's fault that Lily had died, Harry's fault that James sometimes seemed so unhappy . . . It was Harry's fault. All of it.

"Dad?"

James looked up at Harry as he entered the family room. Harry's fourteenth birthday had been just yesterday, but he looked quite troubled.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry sat down beside his father, and James suddenly noticed how sunken Harry's eyes looked. Remus had told him all about the things that had happened, and Dumbledore had also talked briefly about it. Harry's letters had lacked, and when he'd come home for the holidays he hadn't spoken much of his time at school. But he had been pretty withdrawn, and James figured, now, that it had something to do with the revelation of Peter being their Secret-Keeper so long ago (as James had never spoken of this, it being a touchy topic for him as well) and with the way the Dementors had been so focused on him.

"I know why the Dementors . . . why they went after me," Harry said quietly.

James wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders protectively, but said nothing.

"It's because of Mum," he continued. "When they went after me, I could remember all the bad things that had ever happened to me, all in one moment. And through all those, I could hear her. Screaming. When he killed her."

Harry's voice was shaking as he spoke, but he didn't stop. "I started having nightmares. Of that night. I'd never remembered it before, and then suddenly I did, and it was all I could think about. All year. From the moment the Dementor came after me on the train to even now. And I just . . . I hated it. It wasn't fair. The one thing I remember of her is her dying? A flash of green and her scream, and sudden black. It's not fair."

"Harry . . ."

"And so I asked Uncle Moony to teach me how to do a patronus," Harry said. "It took me a long time to get it right, but I eventually did. A stag, like you." He looked down at his hands for a moment. "I felt bad after. I thought maybe it wasn't fair that it wasn't what Mum's was. Uncle Moony told me it was okay, but I still . . . I felt really guilty. I didn't think I was honouring her memory the right way."

James took a deep breath and asked, "And now?"

"Now I think it's worse."

"Is that why you came to me? Harry, you could never dishonour your mother. She loved you very much."

"Yeah." He looked like he might cry, but he put on a strong face. "I know she loved me—that she still does, wherever she is. I just don't feel like I'm someone she would be proud to have as a son."

"Why not?"

"I'm a coward," Harry said quietly. "I run away from things. And it's not as if I'm a good person. It's my fault she's dead, and I'm not even honouring her right."

"You are not a coward," James insisted. "And it's not your fault she's dead, Harry. I don't know where you got that idea, but I want you to drop it."

James had never heard Harry say that he thought Lily's death was his fault, but he supposed it made sense. If she hadn't been protecting Harry, she would still be alive. But, then, Harry would've died, and Lily would have blamed herself, because that was just the person she was. And James knew that he'd just let Lily slip away from him, like water through his fingers. He should've been there for his wife and son, but he hadn't been. That was his biggest regret.

"If she hadn't been trying to keep me safe . . ." Harry trailed off, and a tear slid down his cheek. "It's my fault, Dad. She should've just let me die and saved herself, but she put herself between me and Voldemort instead. She could be sitting here with you."

"Harry, Voldemort is the one at fault here," James said forcefully. "Your mother didn't die for nothing. She died for you, because she loves you. Not because she felt an obligation to, but because she loved you so much that she wouldn't let anybody kill you. If she had survived, she never would have forgiven herself for letting you die. She loved you more than anything."

Harry didn't say anything as James pulled him close. He just continued to stare at his lap, small tears falling once in a while.

James understood what his son was feeling, and he wished madly that Harry wasn't feeling it. Harry didn't deserve to think he'd let Lily die when it hadn't been his fault in any way, shape, or form.

"Is there something else bothering you, Harry?" James asked after a minute of silence.

Harry looked up and nodded once, but he didn't say what was on his mind.

"Harry?" James swallowed. He'd never seen Harry's eyes look so lifeless before.

"What would she think if . . . if I were . . . gay?" His voice was small, and James wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been sitting right beside him.

James blinked. Gay? Harry had never said anything like this before, but maybe it was something he just didn't like to think about. But was Harry gay? It would mean no grandchildren, of course, but that was okay. It wasn't like James's family had been like Sirius's, obsessed with blood purity. If that was the case, he would've been disowned the moment he'd gotten involved with Lily.

"She would love you anyway," James said. He paused and then asked, "Harry, are you?"

"I . . . I don't know." His tears had started falling again. "I think . . . maybe. I don't know."

James held him tighter. "It's okay, Harry. I'll still love you, too, you know. And Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot, too. We love you no matter what, Harry."

He nodded, but he didn't meet James's gaze. "No matter what . . . ," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Hey, Prongs—"

Sirius stopped midsentence as he noticed Harry and James's serious looks.

He sat on the other side of Harry without missing another beat. "What's wrong?" he asked, not really sure if he was talking to Harry or to James.

"Harry, are you all right?" James questioned softly. "Uncle Padfoot wants to talk to you, too."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think I am all right." He laughed a small, mirthless laugh. "A bit of a mess, actually."

"Harry, what's wrong?" Sirius demanded. "Has something happened?"

Harry wiped at his eyes, hating that he'd cried. But these men had raised him. He knew perfectly well that they'd seen him cry before. They would love him no matter what. No matter what.

And so he took a deep breath and he faced his godfather. "I think I'm gay," he said, but his voice was far from confident. He faltered at the end of his statement, and he turned back to his hands, as if they'd become the most fascinating thing on the planet.

Sirius frowned for one moment, but it was replaced by a grin almost immediately. "Moony said something about thinking you might fancy blokes."

Harry's head shot up, and then he realized what Sirius had said and blushed.

"He said that to you?" James asked in disbelief. "He never mentioned anything to me!"

"Dad," Harry moaned.

"Yeah, Prongs. Come on. We know you well enough to think you might've confronted Harry about it. Besides, you're the first person Harry told of the three of us, aren't you?"

"But Harry's still my son!" James protested.

"Even more reason not to mention it." Sirius laughed. He turned to Harry, "It doesn't matter, anyway, Harry. Whether or not you'd rather look at blokes isn't important. You should be more focussed on how you're going to get them to look back." He winked.

Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Uncle Padfoot, but I really don't want dating advice from you."

"Oh, come on, Harry, everybody came after me when I was in Hogwarts—girls and boys. See, I was devilishly handsome. Still am, of course, but I don't get as many people after me these days. Too many of them ask about you, see."

"Please, stop," said Harry. "You know what? You're terrible. I think I'm going to go find Uncle Moony."

"But he was spreading rumours about you, Harry!"

"It's not a rumour if it's true," Harry shot back, standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

James looked at Sirius and smiled. "Thank you," he said. "He was pretty upset for a minute, there."

"I always did have that effect on people, didn't I?"

James rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Mostly because it was true. James could never dream of making somebody laugh the way Sirius had just made Harry laugh about something so heavy.

He would love Harry no matter what, too. They all would.