I have never loved someone the way I love you
I have never seen a smile like yours
And if you grow up to be king or clown or pauper
I will say you are my favorite one in town

I have never held a hand so soft and sacred
When I hear your laugh I know heaven's key
And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard
I will send you all my love upon the breeze

And if the breeze won't blow your way, I will be the sun
And if the sun won't shine your way, I will be the rain
And if the rain won't wash away all your aches and pains
I will find some other way to tell you you're okay.

You're okay...

Song by My Brightest Diamond

Sirius Black's groan was only barely audible over the wailing of the small infant he held in his arms.

"Please, kid," he begged, setting the snubbed bottle down and rocking the sobbing bundle. "Please stop crying. You need to eat."

The black haired baby ignored his godfather's pleas with firm resolution.

Sirius threw his head back and contemplated just crying along with the boy.

"Well isn't this a sight," called a wry voice from the door.

Sirius rolled his head to glare balefully over shoulder at the interloper.

Remus Lupin shot him a small smirk before pushing off from the kitchen door. With sparkling amusement in his eyes, the man reached over to divest Sirius of his burden.

"Oh thank Merlin," Sirius sighed, passing over his precious bundle and collapsing onto a dining chair. The man ran his hand down his face, grimacing at the length of his stubble. "It's been ages."

Remus clucked his tongue reproachfully while maneuvering the still wailing child into one arm and attempting to ply him with the bottle. "It's been three days, Padfoot," he replied sardonically.

Sirius groaned. "It was only supposed to be one day," he complained, his whine nearly outshining those belonging to the child.

Remus' face fell at the pronouncement, his worry etching wrinkles ever deeper into his face. A face too young for such lines.

"They will return soon," he said quietly.

Sirius opened his eyes and turned to his friend. "They're fine," he insisted, putting more conviction than he truly felt behind his words. "They'll be back soon."

Remus raised his brow.

"Tonight."

Remus raised both brows.

Sirius threw him a cocky grin.

Remus rolled his eyes.

The child wailed.

"'All will change,' they prophesied, 'when a maid catches his fancy,'" Sirius nearly shouted over the heart-wrenching wails of the small child.

"But the young Warlock's fancy remained untouched," the man continued determinedly, turning the page. "Though many a maiden was intrigued by his haughty mien, and employed her most subtle arts –"

The black-haired child tossed his blanket from his chest and rolled over, his wail near deafening.

"Merlin's pants, kid," Sirius sighed, tossing aside the storybook and leaning back in the rocking chair. "You're killing me here."

With a great sigh, he stood from the chair and leaned over the crib railing to peer down at the babe.

Bright green eyes full to the brim with tears gazed beseechingly up at him.

"Ah, shite," Sirius groaned, recognizing defeat when he saw it. "Fine, I'll pick you up."

He reached into the crib and hoisted the boy into his arms. "But don't get used to it," he growled lightly, pointing a finger at the child and scowling. "I'm under very strict orders to just let you cry it out."

The baby, whose wailing had faded into hiccupping little sobs, snuggled deeper into his godfather's chest.

"Oh hell, who am I kidding?" he sighed, smiling weakly. "You're too damn cute and you and I both know it."

"Sirius Black, you watch your tongue!"

Sirius whirled around to gape at the angry redhead poised with both hands on her hips and a glare on her face.

"Lily!" he cried, beaming. "You're back!"

Lily snorted. "Well spotted," she replied, cocking a brow at the man. Sirius grinned like an idiot.

Lily's scowl only lasted another second before she gave in. She sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and smiled.

"Give him here," she said, beckoning to the man. "You look knackered."

Sirius barked out a laugh as he held out the still crying boy, the baby now making grabby-hands at his mother. "He's got a proper set of lungs on him," Sirius said, quirking his lips.

"That's my boy!"

Sirius looked over Lily's shoulder to watch James Potter climb warily up the stairs, a brilliant grin on his face. His friend's gaze turned quickly into intense assessment, and James hurried up the final steps.

"Was everything alright?" he asked, coming to stand next to Sirius and supporting the man's elbow. "You look like –" he paused, catching Lily's warning glare from the crib, where she was lowering a still-crying baby down.

"Crap," James concluded lamely.

Sirius barked out another laugh.

"I'm fine," he pressed, giving his friend his most brilliant smile. "Who needs sleep?"

James chuckled, the worry in his eyes fading as he ran a hand through his messy head of black hair. "We were held up for a while there," he admitted before grinning sheepishly at his friend, his hand coming down to rub the back of his neck. "We were gone a tad longer than we'd imagined."

"Just a tad?" Sirius repeated flatly. "It's been a week."

The wailing started again and Sirius seemed to just wilt, groaning.

"Not again," he groaned, covering his face in his hands.

James chuckled and patted his friend on the shoulder.

"Come on Padfoot," he coaxed, ushering the man toward the door of the nursery. "Lily will work her magic and you can sleep."

James caught his wife's eyes with a smile as he led Sirius away, the man grumbling about the mere hours of sleep he'd had over the past week.

Lily grinned at the sight of The Great Sirius Black done in by an eight-month old.

An eight-month old who was rather unhappy.

"Oh baby boy," she sighed, leaning over the crib to stroke her son's cheek. "Did you miss your mum?"

The boy's answering wail was all the answer she needed.

The redhead sunk into the rocking chair, scooting it forward until her knees brushed the crib's bars. "There now," she cooed, smiling at the boy. "You're okay, I'm here now."

The wails turned into half-hearted little bursts of sound as the baby gazed up at his mother.

Lily cleared her throat, willing away the exhaustion, and sang.

"I have never loved someone the way I love you," she began. "I have never seen a smile like yours.

"And if you grow up to be king or clown or pauper, I will say you are my favorite one in town," she continued, beaming, her mind's eye envisioning her James running through stone hallways, cackling with mischievous laughter.

"I have never held a hand so soft and sacred. When I hear your laugh I know heaven's key," she sang, reaching out to fit one finger into her son's grasp. The tiny fist tightened around the digit and the babe held on with a strength belying his size.

"And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard," she continued, her voice hitching. She had seen so much death. Just the day before, it could have been James. She swallowed thickly.

"I will send you all my love upon the breeze.

"And if the breeze won't blow your way, I will be the sun." She looked up at the mobile spinning lazily above the crib and reached up to touch the little figure of a smiling sun.

"And if the sun won't shine your way," she continued, looking back to the baby. "I will be the rain.

"And if the rain won't wash away all your aches and pains," she sang, her voice lilting, bittersweet.

"I will find some other way to tell you you're okay."

Heavy lids closed over green eyes as Harry Potter fell sleep.

Sirius stumbled on a blasted piece of the Potter's roof, his vision blurred by the tears threatening to overflow.

"Shhh, I've got you," he choked out, holding Harry more tightly against his chest. The baby boy was wailing, his cries echoing in the chasm that used to hold Sirius' heart. It was empty now, pain and loss filling the void and stealing away his breath.

Gone. James and Lily. Gone.

His chest tightened and his breath hitched.

He could go no further. Sirius sunk to his knees on the sidewalk and cradled the only thing left of his best friend.

"I've got you, Harry," he said through clenched teeth, fighting with everything he had to stem the building sob. Still, the young boy cried, great wracking sobs like Sirius hadn't ever heard before. The sound of an orphaned child.

Sirius bent over, curling forward over the baby, and cried.

Time passed and Sirius shook with the pain of his all-consuming grief, his tears flowing freely now as his sobs nearly drowned of those of the infant in his arms.

Finally, his sobs subsided. Feeling wrung out, Sirius sat back more comfortably, still cradling the sobbing baby to his chest.

"Shhh, baby boy, I'm here," he tried, using a shaking thumb to wipe the tears from the boy's face. He felt a hysterical bubble of laughter rise to his lips and he tilted his head back to stare at the stars.

He couldn't ever get Harry to stop crying. "Hell, even Remus is better at this than me," he huffed, swiping away his tears with a fist.

He tried swaying side to side a bit, babbling nonsense to the child, but still the boy sobbed.

When is Lily coming home? he thought in passing. She can get him to stop crying...

He froze.

Lily wasn't ever coming home.

Fresh sobs escaped his throat and Sirius found himself lost again in unrelenting waves of grief. He clutched at Harry, the motion an attempt to soothe both the child and the man. They were both so alone.

The sobs ebbed away again and Sirius took deep steadying breaths. He cleared away the evidence of tears on his face before swiping Harry's away gently.

"It's okay," he repeated again, nudging to the boy's hand with one finger. The child grasped onto the digit with surprising strength, his bright eyes opening to stare up at Sirius, shining with tears.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius said to the boy. "I don't know what to do," he said, his voice cracking on the last word. "Just please, please stop crying."

It did no good.

Sirius sighed, brought the boy close, and started to sing.

"I've never loved someone the way I love you. I've never seen a smile like yours," he began, his voice breaking. He winced – it wasn't anywhere close to the way Lily could do it. But Lily can't be here.

"And if you grow to be king or clown or pauper, I'll say you're my favorite one in town." He laughed, a watery sort of cough, and wiped away the tears from his eyes.

"I have never held a hand so soft and sacred," he continued, squeezing Harry's little hand between in thumb and forefinger. "When I hear your laugh I know heaven's key.

"And when I grow to be a poppy in the grave –" Sirius stopped, a great sob catching his breath. "In the graveyard," he tried again, his voice trembling. "I'll send you all my love –" He couldn't.

He was useless. Everything he did was wrong. He couldn't be trusted. James and Lily had trusted him, and he'd failed.

He couldn't do this. He looked down into Harry's bright green eyes – his mother's eyes – and just knew. This little boy was utterly precious, and Sirius Black ruined everything he touched.

So he closed his eyes and hummed. He rocked the small, precious boy - one finger cradled in the grasp of a tiny hand, and hummed Lily's song over and over.

Sirius watched as Hagrid soared away on his bike, off to deliver Harry to Dumbledore.

"Goodbye, Harry," he whispered to the sky. Dumbledore could be trusted. Dumbledore would make sure he was okay. "You're okay, Harry," he said. "You'll be okay."

He kept his eyes glued to the sky long after the glow of the tailpipes faded, then looked down at his hands.

There was only one thing left to do. He clenched his fists.

Get revenge.

Harry turned the corner at a full sprint, grunting as his shoulder caught on the side of the stone school building. He stumbled to a stop and pressed his back against the cool façade of the building, panting.

Clutching the stitch in his side, Harry closed his eyes and listened for Dudley and his gang.

He was just so tired and he just wanted to be left alone. It was bad enough Dudley didn't let Harry have friends, the least he could do was leave him alone.

He was so tired. Harry let out a sigh and hunched his shoulders.

A small breeze picked up and tugged playfully at the extra fabric that hung loosely on the small boy. The wind crept up under the shirt and cooled his sweaty skin, and Harry couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

His moment of relief was short lived, however, as he heard the thundering stomps signaling his cousin's arrival. Harry froze, holding his breath, but to his despair, the footsteps were coming closer.

The wind suddenly picked up, breezing through the small alley between the two buildings, and nearly knocked the scrawny teen over. Harry recovered his balance and took stock of his surroundings.

The ally ended with a fence, and the opening would bring him into the gang's sights. He hadn't anywhere to go.

Before he could work himself into a proper panic, the wind died down to a gentle breeze. It brought with it fresh, cool air, and seemed to caress his face and ruffle through his hair as it passed.

He took a deep breath and calmed his thoughts.

He could do this. He was okay.

Eyes still closed, Harry let his instincts guide him, and jumped.

He opened his eyes warily, one at a time, and gasped. He was on the roof.

"Get down here, Potter!" shouted his cousin. "How'd'ya get up there?" called another boy. "Ge'down 'ere!"

Alone finally.

He walked to the center of the school building, sat down, and brought his knees to his chest, sniffing lightly. He wouldn't cry. He sniffed harder and grit his teeth.

A slow, lazy breeze ruffled his hair and snuck under the collar of his sagging shirt, tickling his skin. He sighed.

He'd be okay.

Harry gazed morosely at the scarlet steam engine as his fellow first years rushed around him, their voices loud and merry.

He didn't want to go back.

Home was here. Home was the sprawling green grass, the dark cool water of the lake, and the cold stone of the massive castle. He cast his eyes around the crowd, finding Neville clutching Trevor in his hands as he laughed at something the twins were saying. A little further down, Hermione had a hand on her hip while she lectured at Ron. The boy rolled his eyes as he caught Harry's, and he smiled.

Here he was wanted.

But in a few moments, he'd have to get on the train and return to Privet Drive. He looked down at his trainers, flexing his toes so that he could see one horrid yellow sock poke through a small hole. He'd have to go back to his tiny room and to too-much work with too-little food.

To loneliness and hatred. To being a freak.

Harry clenched his fists and glared at the train, willing away the prickling of tears. He raised his face to the sky, trying to block out the sound of the whistle, and breathed.

The spring sun streamed down and caressed his upturned cheeks, warming his skin and kissing his nose and eyelids. The warmth seeped into his skin and down to his bones, filling him with strength. He took a deep breath and willingly soaked up as much of the dancing warmth as he could, should he be confined to his cupboard again this summer.

He took another breath and released his fists. He was Harry Potter, a wizard, who had parents who loved him so much, they had given their lives for him. He was strong, and had friends who cared for him. Who would walk into danger with him. He wasn't alone.

He was okay.

Harry Potter lay on the dirt in the backyard of Number Four Privet Drive with his eyes closed. Several hours ago, he had refuge from the sun by the neatly trimmed bush he'd tended to earlier in the day. Now, however, his face and body was left unsheltered from the elements.

The sunburn on his face and arms, a product of several weeks laboring in the yard, made his skin somehow feel both tight and stretched too thin. He'd get up to seek shade, but it required more energy than he had in his limbs. That, and the heavy leaden weight encasing his chest made movement impossible. And really, he just couldn't be bothered.

Because he deserved it.

He could remember from the few times the Durselys had taken him to church, how the Priest had warned of hell – the place where bad people went who were damned for their sins. Freak people like him, his Aunt had warned.

This must be it, he thought. Hell. He'd lead his friends into danger needlessly and had caused the death of the only family member he had left. Sirius was gone, and it was entirely his fault. And so here he lay, paying for his sins. He was just so alone.

Harry opened his eyes and told himself it was the blinding brightness of the sun that made them tear up.

Until he felt a drop slide down his cheek.

Embarrassed, he wiped away the evidence of tears, only to pause. Another drop landed on his forehead. He blinked.

And suddenly, the sky opened.

Fat, cool drops fell and landed on his scorching skin. In just moments he was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead and his shirt soaked through. It cooled the wild burning of his body and soothed the cracked skin on his lips.

Harry was shocked for the first few moments until a drop fell into his open mouth and onto his tongue.

And he giggled.

Closing his eyes, Harry opened his mouth wide and smiled as drops fell in to coat his parched tongue. He didn't realize how thirsty he was until that moment, and he beamed as the water soothed his dry throat. He opened his hands and raised them out to his sides, feeling the cool water coat the callused skin of his palms.

Even the flowers seemed to stretch their faces toward the rare summer shower, hungry as he was for a respite from the heat. He felt lighter than he had in months. Maybe even years. He let loose a peal of laugher that seemed to fill him with energy, and sat up.

Harry stood, wincing lightly at the stiffness in his shoulders and back, and tilted his head to feel the rain.

Water dripped down his face, clinging to his chin, and for the first time that summer, Harry Potter felt hope.

I'm okay, he thought suddenly. I'll be okay.

I open at the close.

Breathing fast and hard, Harry stared down at the snitch. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, it seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed all thought. This was the close.

He pressed the snitch to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die."

It broke open, and he lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco's wand, and murmured, "Lumos."

The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the snitch. The Resurrection Stone. Again Harry understood without having to think. It didn't matter about bringing them back, for he was about to join them. He wasn't really fetching them: They were fetching him.

He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.

He knew it had happened, because he heard slight movements around him that suggested frail bodies shifting their footing on the earthy, twig-strewn ground that marked the outer edge of the forest. He opened his eyes.

They were neither ghost nor truly flesh - less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts. They moved toward him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.

Lily's smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew close to him, and her green eyes – so like his – searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.

"You're okay."

His eyes fell closed as he heard her voice, the words resonating through his chest, through his soul, and it was like he could breathe clearly for the first time.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come. I was, it seems...mistaken," he continued.

"You weren't."

Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his father, Sirius, and Remus vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight.

But next to him stood Lily, her eyes blazing with fierce pride even as she faded from his sight.

"You're okay," her voice whispered as her hand came up to stroke his cheek. "You're okay."

And then she was gone. And no one mattered but Voldemort – it was just the two of them. Until the very end.

Harry Potter groaned and lowered his head into his hands as the wailing grew impossibly louder.

"Please," he begged, looking down into the crib and gazing beseechingly at a black haired baby. "Please stop crying."

Ginny rolled over on the couch with a moan, picking up the pillow and covering her eyes with it.

"Harry," she groaned. "We need to sleep. We haven't slept in weeks."

Harry looked over to his wife, noting the wild tangles of red hair fluttering lightly with her breath. He watched the red strands settle back on her lips for a moment before she breathed out and they fluttered upward again. Such bright, red hair.

Harry froze.

Pushing off his elbows, he gazed down at his newborn son. The babe's face was screwed up tightly as he wailed, his little face nearly pink from the efforts of his cries. The boy should look ridiculous, but instead Harry thought he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he began to sing.

"I have never loved someone the way I love you. I have never seen a smile like yours."

Ginny didn't move, but her hair stopped fluttering.

"And if you grow up to be king or clown or pauper," Harry continued, chuckling lightly. He'd named his son James. King or pauper didn't seem to fit the bill. "I will say you are my favorite one in town.

"I have never held a hand so soft and sacred," he sang, reaching down to grip his son's tiny hand. "When I hear your laugh I know heaven's key."

Harry's smile faded. "And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard," he continued, gazing down seriously at his boy. "I will send you all my love upon the breeze."

Ginny sat up and moved to his side, running a hand down his back in a soothing motion. Harry turned to her and kissed her temple.

"And if the breeze won't blow your way, I will be the sun," he continued, closing his eyes and feeling the comforting blaze of warmth kissing his nose and cheeks, smelling the thick steam of the Hogwarts Express.

"And if the sun won't shine your way, I will be the rain." He opened his eyes and stared down at his hands, feeling cooling rain sooth a phantom burn, tasting the refreshing drops on his tongue.

He blinked away tears and continued, "And if the rain won't wash away all your aches and pains." He took a deep breath, his voice cracking. "I will find some other way to tell you you're okay."

He laughed weekly and wiped away the errant tear that crept from his eye. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder in silent support.

Harry squeezed his now sleeping son's hand before withdrawing to smooth down the boy's unruly black hair.

"We're okay," Harry whispered into the quiet. He wrapped an arm around Ginny's waist and rested a hand on the crib. "We're okay."