Fly for Freedom
A/N: I do not own any character or theme, nor will I make a profit from this. All praise to the fabulous JK Rowling.
I do apologise if this fic is riddled with SPaG; with the Quidditch season back on track, betas are understandably a little inundated with other more amazing fics. This is slightly AU (in that they would never have time or permission to do this) and set in Harry's fifth year just after Mr Weasley was attacked in the Ministry. I do apologise too if 1) I used smiling way too often… I mean, they keep smiling! Sorry, my brain wouldn't come up with anything else though, and 2) you find it boring (and the title stupid). I didn't realise writing a Sirius and Harry fic would be so hard, but I did try my best because:
This fic is dedicated to the wonderfully talented OnyxFeather, as a prize for not only being an encouraging and wonderful (and patient) friend, but for winning the Diagon Alley II forum's Secret Santa guessing competition. Congratulations!
Now, before I bore you all further, on with the fic! As usual, all reviews are welcome xo
"Block it Ron, block it!"
"Shuddup Ginny, I've got it."
Harry leaned back on his broom, trying to stifle his laughter as Ginny flew towards Ron and promptly wacked him across the head for letting Fred's Quaffle pass him. George soon joined her, snatching up the fallen red ball and throwing it at a now scowling Ron.
The wind picked up, tousling Harry's already messy black hair. He didn't mind however, instead relishing in the freedom of being out in the open playing a sport he loved almost as much as he loved being at Hogwarts OR SOMETHING, FIX. It had been weeks now since he had been able to mount a broom, no thanks to the ugly toad Umbridge and her need to punish him for simply breathing. Now that Mr Weasley was on his way to a full recovery, the feeling of flying once more was even sweeter.
"Grab the ball Harry!" Fred shouted, whooshing past Harry and shaking him out of his reverie.
Gripping the handle of the Cleansweep Eleven tightly, his knuckles turning white under the pressure, Harry turned his broom around and chased after Fred and George. George was holding the Quaffle, taking time to turn his head every now and then to poke his tongue out at his twin. Harry was thankful that the twins weren't on the same team for this game, because if they were, Fred would not have had the chance to grab the Quaffle out of George's hands.
Slowing to an almost halt so that he could turn around, Fred threw the ball to Harry. He watched as it soared toward him; a heavy mass of crimson. Harry stopped his own broom, releasing his hands and stretching them out towards the oncoming Quaffle. Unfortunately, he underestimated the balance capabilities of the borrowed broom he was on, and the Quaffle brushed past his outstretched finger-tips and landed in Ginny's hands.
Ginny promptly took off, heading towards the make-shift goal hoops the twins had constructed. Harry could see Hermione hovering in front of them, her broom still a little shaky despite the hours they had spent playing.
"No, no, no, no, no…" Hermione could be heard whimpering, her voice taking on an unnaturally-panicked tone.
Harry urged his broom forwards to rescue her, Fred on his tail. However, a raucous barking from below caught his attention. Even as he glanced down, he knew what he would see; sure enough, a large, black dog was sitting on the green grass, his tail wagging violently.
Sighing, Harry nodded to Fred as he passed, before re-directing his broom into a dive. The dog stood up as he landed, the tail wagging even faster.
"Siri– uh, Padfoot, what are you doing here?" Harry whispered, glancing around to ensure that no one else was around. Despite himself, however, a smile played on his lips.
The dog cocked his head to the side, almost as though pretending he didn't understand. Then, trotting over to a nearby clump of bushes, he disappeared momentarily. When he reappeared, he was in his regular, still scruffy, human form.
"I thought you'd be happy to see me out and about," Sirius finally replied. He wore a familiar smug smile on his face as he strode back towards Harry, hands casually in his jacket pockets.
"I do, you know I do. You just can't keep taking these risks though. What if someone saw you?"
Harry looked around again, making sure that no passing Muggle happened to notice that a dog had changed into a man. Given that several teens were flying around on broomsticks, however, he had to rely on the fact that Hermione had chosen a place Muggles–and other wizarding folk for that matter–wouldn't cross their paths.
Sirius shrugged and looked around himself, ignoring Harry's concern. Rather than watching for possible onlookers, it became clear that he was simply searching for a comfortable place to sit, for he soon kicked away a loose stone and plopped down unceremoniously on the grass. His grey eyes looked towards the sky longingly, watching the rest of the gang laughing and shouting.
Knowing it pointless to argue with him to leave (and secretly knowing he never would), Harry followed suit, tossing the broom to the side and sitting next to his god-father. It felt much warmer on the ground, the sun breaking through the clouds and forming golden patches where they sat.
After a few minutes of silence, Sirius chuckled. Nodding his head towards the goalposts, he said, "It seems like Hermione still hasn't gotten hang of it. I don't suppose you have a camera on you, do you?"
Sure enough, shielding his eyes with his hand and following Sirius' gaze, Harry spotted Hermione desperately clutching her broom with her eyes squeezed shut. George was tossing the Quaffle in one hand, probably deliberating whether or not he should take advantage and score another goal.
"Ah well, I don't suppose she can be good at everything. I'm starting to think maybe I should've spent more time in the books myself; Merlin, I might've even been a Healer or something if I studied."
Harry glanced at Sirius, somewhat surprised; he had always assumed Sirius had wanted to become an Auror. Whilst his tone was jovial as usual, he began to detect some bitterness lying beneath his words. "Really?"
Sirius looked at him, the smile disappearing, as he began plucking blades of grass out of the ground. His eyes were crinkled slightly, the grey in them turning stormy. The look made Harry's heart sink and his stomach churn guiltily at the thought that just moments before he had been enjoying his own freedom without a thought as to Sirius' happiness. Even away from the clutches of the Ministry, it was no secret that Sirius deeply despised Mad- Eye's orders to remain cooped up inside Twelve Grimmauld Place, his only companion often a hippogriff with an attitude.
Before Harry could form any words of comfort, or try to dispel any memories of his life in Azkaban from Sirius' mind, his godfather cracked another smile. Shaking his head and allowing the blades of grass to be pick up in the wind and drift from his hands, he chuckled once more. "Not, not really. I always thought I'd leave the serious stuff to Moony, the studious old git he is," he joked. "Nah, I think I'd prefer being a professional Quidditch player or something. Maybe I'll join the Falmouth Falcons, and wack some sense into the lot of them."
Sirius turned his head back up to the sky, basking in the sunlight. Harry watched him carefully; amazed that he could be so carefree. He watched as the smile remained on Sirius' thin lips, twitching every now and again as Ginny's continual berating of Ron could be heard. An idea began to form in his mind, and he stood up quickly.
"Well, why don't we start now then? It's never too late to get back on a broom," Harry offered, holding his hand out to help Sirius up.
Turning to Harry, Sirius gave a short bark of laughter. "Yeah right, mate." Then, noticing Harry's hand and determined expression on his face, frowned. "Absolutely not."
"Wha- why not?" Harry asked, taken aback by Sirius' sudden change in tone.
Brushing away Harry's hand, Sirius turned his attention back to the grass. With harsh, jarring movements, he began to rip out the grass in clumps, exposing patchy brown and yellow roots.
Harry looked around helplessly, unable to fathom what he had said wrong. He wished Hermione would sense his despair, give up on her failed attempt as a Keeper and fly down to him–even if she was likely to scold Sirius for joining them outside. After all, she was one of the only people out here with any sort of tact or insight into the human mind, excluding Ginny of course. Unfortunately, she was not a mind reader, and continued her frantic yelps at Fred and George to take the ball to the other end of the field.
Instead, Harry had no choice but to sit back down with Sirius, closing his eyes and wracking his mind for a reason to Sirius' mood swing. Why wasn't his godfather jumping at the chance to show off on the broom? Did Sirius resent him for being so ably to get on a broom when he could not? Was Harry rubbing it in his face, that he still had the option to fly around with his friends?
Swallowing, Harry began to apologise. "Sirius, I- I didn't mean to be so- uh- insensitive. I know it must stink to not be able to do what you want; to go outside whenever you feel like it."
"Ha, you reckon?" Sirius spat, tearing the blades into small, jagged strips.
If Sirius had slapped him across the face, it wouldn't have hurt any less. Sirius must have sensed his unhappiness, for his eyes softened as he turned to him, dropping the grass. With a sad smile, he shrugged in apology.
"Look Harry, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I think you should go off and have fun with your friends. I'm fine sitting here, just breathing in the fresh air." As if to prove his point, Sirius dusted off his hands and smiled half-heartedly. Then, seeing that Harry still looked worried, he nudged him with a smirk. "Besides, who else is going to laugh at your antics up there?"
Harry felt himself echo Sirius' smile, yet it did not match his heart. Sirius couldn't fool him, and though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he knew there was more to Sirius' reluctance to fly. Seeing Sirius look wistfully back up at the sky, he hesitated as he began to stand up.
"Sirius?"
"I'm sure mate," Sirius said as he waved his hand dismissively, "You go off and have fun. Get a few goals past Ron, will you? He's looking much too smug right now."
Harry focused on Sirius', who watched as Ron saved a flimsy goal and whooped in glee. His godfather's eyes were now shining once more, pupils darting back and forth in anticipation of what would happen next. His feet tapped against the ground, hands twitching every now and again. If he was so interested in the game, why didn't he participate?
Suddenly, it was like his brain had caught a snitch or something, for another thought struck him. FIXXX. Clearing his throat and working up the courage to speak, Harry tried again to gain Sirius' attention, this time hoping to confirm his suspicions.
"Sirius?"
"Mmm?"
"Is there another reason you don't want to fly?" he asked, somewhat warily.
Sirius glanced at Harry, lifting his shoulders in another shrug. "Just don't feel like it."
"Is it… is it because… you can't?"
Sirius stared upwards, unblinking, as though he had not heard what Harry had said. Shuffling from foot to foot , Sirius not answering, Harry wondered if he should repeat his question. Lowering himself back onto the ground, he opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm probably just being silly, I know, but Sirius, can you– do you– do you know how to fly? On a broomstick, I mean."
Heaving a sigh, Sirius eventually turned back to Harry. With a lazy grin, he tilted his head. "So, what gave me away then?"
Harry looked away, not wanting Sirius to mistake his sadness for pity or disappointment. Flying brought out the best in Harry, usually, and he could not imagine not having the skills to ride one; only recently did he realise he had taken his talent for granted.
"Don't look so glum mate, I knew someone would find out eventually–well, maybe not. I mean, who would've thought right, confident Sirius Black, afraid of nothing." Sirius gave a bitter bark of laughter, shaking his head ruefully. "I wish I could blame it on years stuck in that hell-hole Azkaban, but the truth is, I never have been able to. Your father was the Quidditch player–I was the good-looking one," Sirius continued, nudging Harry once more and winking.
"Did something happen?" Harry finally managed to get out, looking into Sirius' face for a sign that he would snap again.
Sirius paused for a moment, his eyes closed. Then, as he reopened them, he sighed. "Not particularly. My oh-so-loving mother thought it would be a great idea for her precious son to have flying practice as early as possible. Years I spent at the Black Manor, flying around on my cousin's private pitch, trying to impress the endless line of instructors deemed not good enough when I couldn't stay up in the air for longer than twenty minutes. Then came time for me to being Hogwarts and I was sorted into Gryffindor, and next thing you know, my darling little brother was being trained up for Seeker."
Harry was beginning to think that Sirius and his brother's relationship was more damaged then he realised, having only caught a brief glimpse of Sirius' resentment towards him when Sirius showed him the Black family tree. He knew that Sirius didn't particularly care for his mother, and now, having stayed in Grimmauld Place, could tell why. He now could understand why Sirius never had the desire to improve his flying skills; if Dudley had been the one to take up Quidditch, Harry would have certainly avoided watching the sport. Still, it was a shame to let his wack-job family destroy any chance of happiness Sirius had left.
"I can teach you to fly," he offered, placing a hand on Sirius' shoulder. When Sirius didn't immediately shake it off, he continued, "We can try right now, if you'd like."
"Don't be daft, Harry, it'll be like teaching a Thestral to waltz in heels," Sirius said in a tone that said he had heard that already. Sure enough, the next words from his mouth confirmed as much. "You're just like James, you know? He was always hoping I'd join him on the team. Must've taken one too many bludgers to the head to think that," he teased, his mood shifting yet again.
Inside, Harry's heart lifted, happy to hear he resembled his father with more than just chaotic hair. Standing up, he gripped Sirius' hand and hoisted his godfather up alongside him.
"Well, I'm probably just as stubborn, too." Reaching down to pick up his discarded broom, he grinned at Sirius. "I suppose though, you might be too old for this."
His jab had the desired effect, for Sirius, who had subconsciously been rubbing his hip as he stood, looked at him aghast. "I beg your pardon, young whipper-snapper. I'm very much capable of flying circles around you. Old my ass," he scoffed, grimacing at the very thought of aging.
Harry held the broom out to him, pleased they were getting somewhere. Sirius accepted the broom, his head held high.
"You do know how to mount it, right?" Harry jested, earning a mock scowl from Sirius.
"Of course I do, I'm not some Slytherin who needs his mummy to show him how," Sirius scoffed, carefully hoisting one leg over the broom's length.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Harry's timing was off once again, for a shrill shriek permeated the air at that moment. Both males looking up, they saw Hermione gripping onto one of the goal posts, her broom having tumbled to the ground. Just as suddenly, one of the twins flew to her rescue, taking her in their arms and flying her to safety, Ron already waiting anxiously at the foot of the goal.
Ensuring that all was good, Harry turned to Sirius. He was looking slightly more pale than usual, despite his face showing no emotion. Lifting a hand to his shaggy brown locks, he met Harry's gaze.
"Erm, maybe I will give it a miss for today."
Harry bit his tongue, wanting to curse Hermione for her timing but knowing in his heart that it wasn't fair to do so. Sirius wouldn't get many more chances to be on a broom, at least not in these holidays–it was a miracle that any of them had been allowed to come out for a game.
As though he sensed Harry's irritation, Sirius hastily plastered a knowing smile on his face. Offering his hand to Harry, he said, "I do promise though, one day, maybe even in the next lot of holidays, you will get me up there on a broom. Until then, I'll stick to riding Witherwings, alright?"
Grinning , Harry took Sirius' hand and shook it. "Deal."