A/N: Yes, there is an Authors Note at the top and bottom of this one-shot but I just wanted to credit the inspiration for a couple of things in this fic.
First of all, Harry's description is a little different to what I normally do, and the inspiration for this was taken from a few images that I saw on Instagram. The artist might be familiar to a few of you as their art is insanely good and pretty popular too – 'upthehillart' if any of you want to take a look, that's what I was thinking of when writing Harry's description (although it's kind of scattered).
The other source of inspiration was from a Wolfstar fic I read (no, this isn't Wolfstar, just the concept) by the author 'NeonDomino' where Remus was taken and brought up to believe he was someone else and that's where this idea sprouted from, but not to worry, I didn't copy the plot of it. It was just the inspiration. If you want to take a look at that too then it was a collection of one-shot Soulmate!AUs called 'We're Simply Meant To Be' and it is chapter 4 (The Missing Lupin).
Sorry for the long A/N, if any of you have read through this then well-done to you, your reward is the above mentioned sources!

Wincing from the bruise blooming on his ribs, Harry resigned himself to another evening full of concealed barbs and insults. Normally of course the insults wouldn't be concealed, but as they were out in public they had to play 'happy families' and Harry didn't want to know what would happen if he failed to meet the expectations put on him.

Knowing that he would undoubtedly fail anyway didn't make the thought any lighter.

Feeling his thoughts travelling down a dark path, Harry quickly averted his mind to something else. Of course as it had often been doing recently his mind immediately took this as permission to wander back to the hot, attractive guy it had been obsessing over for the past few days.

Dark, black hair tied in a messy bun atop the guy's head, tattoos on tan skin, just visible over a black leather jacket and gorgeous silvery grey eyes.

The man had approached him where Harry had been taking a break from his 'family' at a park far away enough that people wouldn't recognise him, despite knowing the welcome he'd get when he returned.

He hadn't particularly cared that day. His so-called-family had been there 24/7 now that it was the summer holidays and he couldn't wait until he returned to boarding school, luckily he had managed to hide most of his packets of cigarettes in his room back at the house. He had been contemplating leaving them at school, but he figured he'd cope better with them even if he did have to be careful about them seeing him.

The man had seemed to contemplate whether to approach him or not for a while before he did. Harry knew this because he had been watching the attractive stranger from the moment he had entered sight. Despite the sense of uneasiness that came with people watching him, there was something about the young man that had made Harry want him to come closer.

So when he'd asked for a light, Harry had silently given it to him, eyes lowered but still watching as the man had lifted a cigarette to his lips, letting it hang slightly before lighting it.

"Sirius Black"

"Harry."

"Thanks for the light."

"No problem."

"Don't you look a bit young to be smoking?"

"I rather think I'll be the judge of that, and besides, I'm seventeen."

"Well, they do say smoking is a bad habit, any age is too young really."

"Says the man with one between his lips."

Sirius had laughed then and Harry hadn't been able to tear his eyes away until the grey eyed man had looked back at him.

He had known he'd blushed and he had expected some sign of discomfort from the man, but he'd only grinned, showing perfect teeth that had to have been the product of braces.

"Tell me about yourself then."

"That sounds like an order."

"A request, I assure you."

"I'm not convinced I should take requests from strangers."

That had produced another laugh and an amused glance from glimmering silver eyes.

"Now, that's rather harsh, you know my name, I know yours, and here we are, smoking together in a park. I think that counts towards something, doesn't it?"

Despite his best efforts, Harry hadn't been able to control the small smile that had broken through. He honestly didn't have much occasion to smile and preferred sarcasm and gibes over genuine friendliness so the smile had been cautious even to him, but Sirius had only taken it as a sign that he was right.

Harry broke his thoughts away from the attractive man as his 'parents' (as they insisted he call them) turned their attention to him.

Fake affectionate smiles covered twitching lips and beady eyes. They had never been the warm, cuddly type, but they hadn't always been abusive.

When Harry was a baby (before he could even remember) his biological parents had given him up, not even bothering to put him in an orphanage, just leaving him abandoned in a supermarket.

A friend of his 'parents' had found him and given him to them as they had tried for many years to conceive but had never been able to.

At first they'd been fine. Treating him as any child. Perhaps a little too overbearing and strict, but they'd treat him fair enough.

That was until Harry turned five and his 'mother' had suddenly gotten pregnant. For them, it had been a joyous miracle. For Harry it had been the start of twelve years of misery, neglect and abuse.

Because now he was the spare, the unneeded, unwanted child. It hadn't helped that Harry hadn't even bothered to fight for their attention. He hadn't loved them enough to care too much about their attentions. Not until they turned sour anyway. He had often wondered if there was something wrong with him because of that. Perhaps that was why they had found it so easy to push him aside and turn him into a whipping boy. Everything bad was taken out on him. Every broken dish, every bad report, every misfortune became his burden. His mistake. His to be punished for.

Of course, they couldn't injure him enough to send him to hospital or for it to show obviously in any way. They were still determined to be the perfect family, and as much as both sides loathed it, Harry was part of that family. They couldn't exactly reject him and ruin their perfect image now could they?

In an attempt to forget his existence, Harry was shipped off to boarding school the moment he turned eleven. Luckily for him that had been his saving grace. He'd met a few boys there who weren't complete pricks and for the first few years he'd been tolerated, no-one cared enough to bother him and it was better than the place he was forced to call home at any rate.

It wasn't until his third year that suddenly things had developed. The other guys had figured out that Harry was smart. Very smart, but he'd fallen under the radar for long enough that it had taken a slip up on his part for anyone to see it.

So a system had been created. Who could get Harry to help them by sharing his next-to-perfect-as-anyone-was-going-to-get notes? They'd all resorted to bribery eventually, the ones who weren't especially bright academically came first. But they had had to figure out how first.

It wasn't until fourth year when a friend of Harry's had introduced him to cigarettes that they had finally figured out exactly how to bribe him.

Harry would never have to pay for his own cigarettes whilst he was at school, never risking getting caught because everyone was willing to get them for him in exchange for helping them cheat.

A few clever ones figured out other ways, but right now it wasn't that Harry was craving. He needed a smoke. The stress of having their watchful eyes on him made Harry want to break something.

"Harrison." Seriously, why Harrison? It was their ridiculous attempt to make the name Harry sound sophisticated. Apparently when they'd found him, Harry had been old enough to know his name and had refused to respond to anything else. "Do stop day-dreaming dear, you look a bit lost."

In other terms 'you are making us look a fool, stop this instant or I assure you that you will regret it.'

Letting the thought leave his head Harry muttered an apology softly.

"Quite right, now I've looked at the menu and I'm positive I've found something you'll agree to. How does that sound?"

'You have no choice.'

Harry nodded silently, almost numbly wishing – in what seemed like an eternal inner voice that monotonously repeated the same thing over and over – that he did not exist. If only.

There was suddenly a commotion at the doors and everyone in the restaurant turned away from their meals and their discussions to see what it was about.

The manager was there, his voice raised as he talked to a police officer.

"I am an Officer of the Law, Mr Allenton, by not allowing me to talk to your customers you are wilfully obstructing a Police Officer and I can arrest you for that, I hope you understand that."

"I do, officer, I assure you, I merely ask you don't create havoc in my restaurant during service hours, when you tell me yourself there is no pressing emergency. It's rather off-putting for my customers."

"I told you there has been no murder. That is not for you to assume it is not important. I assure you it is, and I will ask you again to please move out of my way."

Mr Allenton seemed to flounder with what to say, but then appeared to make up his mind and moved out of the way.

The police officer was followed by two others and Harry watched as they seemed to make their way through the restaurant to the part where Harry was sat. He wondered if that meant he would get to see what was going on.

What he was not expecting was for the officers to keep on walking until they stopped in front of him, his chair being the closest to the door.

He could feel all eyes on him, the ones from the rest of the people in the restaurant and the ones coming from the six other people sat around the table with him.

"Mr Harrison Mason?"

Harry nodded, nerves waring with confusion inside him. He hadn't done anything.

"What is the meaning of this? Surely Harrison has committed no crime?" Ethel Mason spoke up from behind him. The sweetness of her voice making Harry want to wretch. It only ever meant one thing.

"No crime has been committed by this young man, ma'am. I'm sure once I explain it to you, you will understand exactly what is going on. If I could ask you and your husband to step away from the table." His voice told everyone he wasn't asking.

Still, Ethel and Richard Mason were always too stubborn for their own goods.

"Good officer, I assure you, there has been some sort of misunderstanding. There has been no altercation of any kind to warrant this." Mr Mason's chin was jutted up at the officer standing in front, the man refusing to rise from his chair.

"Mr Mason. If you refuse to cooperate, I am afraid I will be forced to accuse you of the suspicions held against you within earshot of everybody else in this building. It will not affect me. So I suggest you get moving."

Harry had no idea what was going on. Of course, he knew Richard Mason was by no means a compassionate, law-abiding citizen, though the family tried very hard to appear so to anyone who cared to look. But he couldn't think of anything that would draw the attention of the police. Most things could be brushed under the rug using the Mason's large bank account.

"I don't feel at all as though there is any logical reasoning behind this. We have done nothing." Ethel's quivering voice fooled the spectators, but the officers remained unfazed.

"I'll take that as you wanting this to go forward publically. I have no problem with that Mr and Mrs Mason. Just know that once I'm done, everybody listening will know exactly the kind of people you are."

An uneasy look passed between the two adults as the others around the table sat bewildered.

"I have to disagree that you hold any information beyond fabrication against our persons, but my wife and I would rather not create unnecessary drama, and we will agree to go with you." Richard Mason turned to the man beside him. "Anthony, if you could, Ethel and I would appreciate if you would keep a hold of the boys until we can pick them up."

Anthony Grason was nodding, his mouth opened to reply when a voice cut in.

"Actually. I don't think that will be necessary, as this concerns Harry, he will stay and as for your son, well that's really none of my concern."

Harry whipped his head to find the speaker of the voice the moment he called him Harry not Harrison. His legal name was Harrison, the Mason's had made it so, meaning that all officials would know him as Harrison.

Meaning this wasn't an official.

But that was plain to see by looking at him. Although the man looked smart and serious in the suit he wore, it was the features on his face that shook Harry to the core and told him this man wasn't here because it was his job.

Because only a blind man wouldn't see the resemblance between himself and the man standing to his left. Barely tamed dark hair (although the man's was greying, it was still visibly dark), same facial structure, strong jaw and jutted cheekbones, the same as Harry. The man had natural tan-dark skin, lighter than Harry's but not by much.

This man was related to Harry and now it was perfectly clear why he was being included in this. It was about him. The only thing that Harry didn't know was why. Was this man his father? Uncle? Cousin? Harry had been told all his life that his family had abandoned him, but now here was a man, looking so similar to him, calling Harry his concern and getting the police involved. There was obviously a lot that Harry didn't know, especially from the look on the Mason's faces. They saw the resemblance too, and they weren't happy about it.

Which was probably the thing that tempered Harry's inner storm the most. If the Mason's weren't happy about something then surely, that had to be in Harry's favour.

"Neither of them are your concern." Ethel's voice was obviously trying to be strong, but Harry could hear the fault in it.

"I care to differ. Your son is your concern, Harry is mine."

"How dare you." Richard Mason stood.

"How dare I what? Accuse you of the truth?"

"We have done nothing wrong. You need to leave us alone or I will file a restraining order against you."

"As if. This is the first time we've met, and the law is hardly on your side here."

"You left him to rot, we gave him a home, a life, you would have left him for dead."

"Don't try and tell me you believe that. You knew who you were dealing with when my son was given to you. You probably petitioned him yourself. Child circulators don't just hand out children, you have to know the right people. Something I'm sure the police are very eager to hear about."

My son.

Harry's ears were ringing. This man was claiming to be his father, and Harry could see the resemblance, he could even attempt to piece together what had happened.

"Besides, from what I've heard, I very much doubt you've given him any of what you claim to. A home insinuates family, and you are no family of his."

"How dare you, you, this is complete lies. You might look like him, but we have done nothing wrong."

"You can't seem to think up anything useful to say in your own defence can you? You keep asking me how I dare, but you don't actually have anything else to say. I dare because I have been looking for my son for the past sixteen years, after he was stolen from my home, from his cradle, and now I have found him I will make you regret the day you made a deal with Voldemort."

The Mason's look horrified.

"Oh yes, I may not have been able to find where my son was, but I found out who it was that took him, and let me tell you, you are in for a world of trouble. There is no use in pretending now, the police know all about it, and the more you struggle, the more time you'll spend behind bars."

"You can't do this to us." Ethel hissed. She wasn't even pretending anymore. Her watery blue eyes frantic, her manicured nails biting into the table cloth.

"On the contrary ma'am, if you won't come with us now, we will be forced to make you."* The police officer that had remained quiet whilst the man that claimed to be Harry' father spoke, cut in again.

Within a few minutes, the whole party was out of the restaurant, Ethan, the Mason's twelve year old son was escorted in a separate police car to his parents (who had been driven off straight to the police station), were the police wanted to talk to him seeing as their treatment of Harry had been so bad (how they knew that Harry didn't know). Anthony Grason went with him so he wasn't alone. His wife and son were asked to talk to a separate police officer, before they were let go.

The main police officer that had done all the talking had stayed with Harry and the man that was now introduced as Fleamont Potter.

"I know this is a lot to take in, and probably hard to believe. I understand that." Fleamont's hazel eyes were warm and slightly pained. "But I assure you, neither I, nor your mother would ever give you up in any capacity. We've been searching for you for sixteen years. A friend recently told us he thought he had seen you, and so we started looking for you in that area. Officer Ploughton here is a family friend of ours, so he has been working with the officers here to help dig up evidence on the Masons."

Harry didn't know how to respond when Fleamont stopped to gauge his reaction so he just nodded. There were so many questions he didn't know how to word, or whether they were acceptable for him to ask. So he just stayed quiet.

Fleamont carried on talking throughout the ride to the station with Officer Ploughton, but not about Harry or anything to do with that, just general talking that Harry could pretend to listen to but wasn't actually expected to. As though Fleamont were giving him time to think.

Harry appreciated it, but his nerves were still standing on end and his stomach was tight and curled.

Then they got to the station and Harry suddenly realised why Fleamont had given him time to adjust. Because now he was going to be bombarded.

"Sirius?" The first thing out of his mouth since the whole thing had started.

Harry had his eyes cast down at the floor, his polished dress shoes toeing at the linoleum lightly. In front of him stood four people, the police officer that had escorted them here had left them for privacy. Harry kind of wished he hadn't. He felt as though he could do with a stranger right now. Three of the people in front of him were looking at him with such hope and longing and Harry's feelings were so mixed.

He logically could see the sense in what they were saying. Their emotions were justified and the resemblance between them all was uncanny. He looked very similar to Fleamont and James and he had Euphemia's colouring, including her bright green eyes.

But non-logically, he was angry. He knew it wasn't fair to them, but he was angry because here was a loving family claiming to be his and he'd been forced to grow up with the Masons. These people claimed to love him but he didn't even know them. Hadn't even known they had existed as the people they were until a couple of hours ago. It was unfair and so hard for him to accept as true. His mind kept telling him it was a con, some cruel kind of set up and he was just waiting for the grand reveal. Because how could it be true? How could he possibly trust them? Another part of him was suddenly craving the love and the way out from the Masons that these people were offering.

Harry was also dutifully ignoring the silent man in the corner. He hadn't spoken much since Harry had first blurted out his name.

Sirius Black. Not Potter. Sirius was a friend of James. The same age as him too. Eighteen. A year older than Harry. He'd been disowned from his family, and Harry could see when Sirius had told him that it hadn't been a nice affair in any sense of the word. He was reminded of his very first conversation with Sirius, the thing that had been the catalyst in all of this.

"There's not much to tell."

"For some reason, I just don't believe you."

"Why's that then?"

"Well, you're a kid smoking alone in a park."

"Most kids my age smoke. And besides, I told you, I'm seventeen. Not a kid."

"Alone? Last I heard, kids your age tending to get into smoking through social groups. A fun thing to do for the thrill of it. You don't look terribly thrilled."

"What are you? A psychologist?"

"Course not. I'm just curious."

"Well, why do you smoke? For the thrill of it?"

"I smoke for the same reason you do."

Harry had looked at him then. Seeing the insinuation clearly lying underneath the lightly spoken words.

"You don't know me."

"No. That's the whole point of this conversation."

Sirius had swerved the conversation slightly then, but Harry knew he'd left things slip even after that. He'd seen something in the way Sirius spoke and the he acted that spoke of a sense of understanding, not pity, even though Sirius had insinuated several times about Harry's home life, enough to make Harry defensive, but not angry. Maybe because Harry had wanted someone to know.

Either way Sirius had figured out Harry had a hard time of it, but he'd let things slip about himself too. He was probably the first person Harry had met that could relate to him. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he hadn't been able to stop thinking about him.

Now he didn't know whether to be thankful or betrayed, even though Sirius had done nothing to hurt him. But he couldn't help but think, had he only spoken to him because he looked like a Potter? Harry knew it was petty but he had bristled at the thought. For a moment he had thought himself special for getting Sirius's attention. The thought made him even angrier. At himself, and at Sirius. But mostly himself. The thought was so trivial.

Harry forced his thoughts back to what he'd been told. The whole reason the rest of the people in the room were looking at him expectantly.

It had been a hot summer's day and that had transferred over to the night, so Fleamont and Euphemia had thought nothing of it when they'd left the windows open. They were on the first floor and no intruders could climb in without the threat of dropping two floors to the basement level. Not that there was much opportunity for climbing anyway. Nor any reason for someone to climb up.

How wrong they had been.

For the past few weeks Harry had insisted on sleeping in the same room as James instead of his parents. He followed his older brother round like a little duckling and James was happy to have his little brother to play with, so their parents had let them, their room only being across the hall.

Three hours after they'd tucked the boys into sleep however, they had heard high pitched screaming and Harry's wails.

They had both run to the boys room, where they had seen a masked man holding Harry as the small boy screamed his discomfort. James had gone at the man, kicking his legs and screaming and crying at him.

Their hearts had almost stopped when James had been kicked across the room by the masked man, his screams ceasing as all the air was knocked out of him.

It was due to pure luck that he had whacked into Fleamont and not the wall. The man had kicked him hard enough to send him flying, not caring James was small enough to have died.

Euphemia had run at the intruder, her arms out to grab her son back whilst Fleamont was distracted with worrying over the unconscious James, but the kidnapper had been ready for that and once again lashed out with his leg, the unrestrained force smashing right into Euphemia's knee cap and making her fall, letting out an involuntary scream.

It was the scream that finally made Fleamont's mind up, taking the risk of putting James down, jumping up as the masked man had run for the door, obviously not wanting to attempt climbing out of the window with a baby in tow.

Euphemia had grabbed at the man's legs but had only succeeded in having her hands stomped on.

Fleamont had tried to block the door, but the man had just pushed through, though Fleamont had managed to grab at Harry, his hands trying to pull his son away, back to him, but he got a hard knee to the groin, which had loosened his grip on Harry, allowing the man to get away, Fleamont only managing to stay standing and chase after him through willpower alone.

He had run down the stairs as fast as he could but the man had had an accomplice waiting outside because the door was unlocked and open, with a car waiting to go, the man in the car flinging the door open to his fellow kidnapper.

Fleamont had jumped for the man, trying in vain to grab at him, but the man didn't have to worry about hurting Harry and had used his back to push Fleamont into the wall, before sprinting to the car.

Fleamont had carried on running even after the car started moving. Running until he got to a roundabout with no clue which way the car had gone, it being long gone by that point.

Euphemia had called the police and ambulance, who had picked up her and James, before two cars were sent to chase after were they thought Harry had gone, the other staying to drive Fleamont to the station and then the hospital.

It had been there that they had met Officer Ploughton, who – even when they'd moved out of the city into the countryside – had carried on helping them in their attempt to find Harry.

Apparently when Sirius had seen Harry he had immediately thought of the lost Potter child who James had told him about. James still being able to remember the night Harry was taken, remembering the terror and desperation even if he couldn't remember his little brother, he could remember how it felt when he was taken, and because of that he could remember the full extent of how much he loved his baby brother.

Harry didn't know what to say.

He didn't want to put his trust and faith in these people only to be stung and heartbroken when it didn't end the way he was wishing. It never did. This was reality, and things like this almost never ended happily. It was cynical, but he knew better than most that people aren't always what they seem at face value.

The Masons were good enough an example of that. An example Harry had been taught for more than half of his life.

How was he supposed to trust them?

But he knew he couldn't leave them waiting forever. He'd have to say something soon. But what? How?

Almost involuntarily Harry's eyes flickered to Sirius, grey-silver eyes locked firmly on him, changing slightly as Harry looked at him. No longer just looking at Harry, but looking into him.

Averting his gaze and clearing his throat, Harry had stood up properly from where he'd been leaning against the desk, straightening his back from where it had been hunched slightly over.

"I believe you."

Harry crushed the cigarette underneath his foot as he blew away the last of the smoke, his eyes still staring lazily at the sky.

"Smoking is bad for you, you know?"

"Says you."

"I'm older than you."

"By a year, and that makes no different. If anything it just means you're closer to heart related diseases than me."

"I still think you should quit."

"You can worry about my health another time."

"Why can't I worry about it now?"

"Because you're ruining my nicotine related haze."

Sirius snorted.

Harry relented and gave him a small smile. As snarky as he could be, Sirius tended to bring out a different side to him. A more vulnerable side he still wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with showing, but it happened anyway.

Sirius settled beside him against the wall and Harry was very aware that Sirius had chosen to put barely any space between the two of them. Harry knew he could move away, but he didn't want to.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. It's just a lot to take in is all."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why did you trust me so easily? Why me and not James or your parents?" Sirius leant towards him as though entrusting a secret of the most delicate kind. His lips brushed Harry's ear and he had to control a shiver. Now was not the time.

Harry didn't ask how Sirius had known he'd been the reason Harry had chosen to trust the Potters (because that was the real question here), he had learnt that Sirius was far, far more perceptive than anyone seemed to realise.

"You're different to them. Not in a bad way, but as though you're less sheltered. There was something about you that I recognised. Something that we shared." Harry licked his lips as he tried to come up with the words. Remembering how he had sought out Sirius's eyes in that police officer's room, seeing the reassurance there that told him he could trust them. It had been the factor that had finally broke Harry's indecision and doubts and let him give the Potters a chance. "You understand me. That's why I trusted you. Because we were similar. Because I could tell by looking at you that you wouldn't hurt me, wouldn't let me be hurt, because you've been hurt yourself." His voice was barely raised, the words murmured under his breath, but Sirius heard them all clearly.

"Not everyone's like that. Some people get hurt and they take it out on others. They want other people to hurt the way they have."

"You don't."

Harry shifted his face so that his eyes were raised to meet Sirius's, their noses almost touching as his green eyes met grey from behind round glasses.

"No. I don't. But I could have."

"I knew you didn't. And I was right."

Their eyes were still connected and Harry could feel the tension between them where Sirius hovered over him from where he leant against the wall. Their bodies almost touching, but not quite.

"Are you going to kiss me?" He couldn't hold the tension any more.

"Would you like me to?" Sirius whispered, their eyes still connected.

"I would have thought that much were obvious."

"I suppose that's a yes then?"

"It is. Yes."

"That's good."

Then there was no more talking because Sirius bought one hand up across Harry's body to cup his face, tilting it slightly as the other hand pressed against the wall by Harry's head as Sirius shifted his body further across so he was standing over him and leant down to seal their lips together.

A/N: Hey there again guys! So, more general notices now: New one-shot. I realised that I tend to do a lot of fem!Harry fics, so I wanted to do one between Sirius and Harry (because I for some reason really love that pairing, but only in altered time fics) where Harry is male.

I have a multi-fic idea (with magic) where Harry travels back in time. That's going to be a Sirius/Harry fic too if I end up doing it, so if you're interested, just say so in the reviews and maybe I might put a poll up too.

As for the Masons, I did contemplate using the Dursleys, but I just felt that despite how horrid they were, they didn't really fit the characters I was thinking of, especially because a lot of their treatment towards Harry was because of magic, and this was a non!magic fic, so they wouldn't have any motive to act that way. Also Lily is James age in this and it just wouldn't have really worked.

For all of you that are slightly confused, Harry is James younger brother by a year.

*I don't know whether police can really do this or not, but just go with it. It's fanfiction.

Also for anyone who is interested, without the Author's notes this fic is 5293 words long.

Review if you're feeling nice.