Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter Two:
The small, normally somewhat sleepy house was filled with people, most of them redheaded. It had been Remus's idea to have the housewarming party, and after a week of it just being Sirius and Harry, it seemed strange for the house to be so crowded. Sirius didn't mind, however- it was nice to see it being lived in. He still had trouble thinking of it as his house, mainly because he'd never had a house of his own before now.
Glancing at the clock, Sirius was surprised to see that it was nearly evening, and he weaved his way around the Weasley twins on his way to the kitchen, a stack of empty plates in each hand.
"There you are," Arthur said, clapping him on the back as he placed the dishes in the sink. "I just spoke with Gilbert Wimple earlier today- he spoke with Bletchley, and if all goes well I should have the tickets by early August."
"Yeah?" Sirius asked, turning to face him. "That's great, thanks! I'm really looking forward to it; I haven't been to a Quidditch game in years."
Technically he'd been present for Harry's game in his third year when the Dementors had swarmed the field, but he'd been a dog at the time and as a result only vaguely aware of how the game was played, so he tended not to count that.
"It's looking to be one for the record books," Arthur said, smiling. Sirius hadn't known he was a fan of Quidditch. "The Bulgarian Seeker is supposed to be excellent, but Ireland has the better Chasers of the two teams."
"Really? I thought Ireland had miserable Chasers. Remember that game when the Lithuanians won 510 to 40 and McDonnell flew into the goalposts twice?"
"Three times, actually. But that was back in the seventies," Arthur said. "They've improved ever since they traded Thompson, remember?"
They both paused, and before Sirius could answer, Arthur's face flushed and he said, "Ah, I suppose you wouldn't remember."
"I'm a bit of a blank when it comes to most things past 1981," Sirius admitted. "I've been trying to catch up, but there's just so much I haven't been around for..."
Arthur shook his head and leaned against the kitchen counter to let Percy pass. "It's a shame, it really is."
Sirius wondered just what Arthur had had to say about him just a year before. Hell, what what he had to say about him even a few months ago? He'd been all but the bogeyman to the rest of the world, second only to Voldemort in pure evil. Now here he was chatting with someone who had thought him a vicious murderer about how it was all such a shame. He'd imagined conversations like this while he was on the run- it kept him sane a good chunk of the time- but actually having them made him feel almost as if he was dreaming.
"Yeah, I guess it is, but all you can do is just keep moving forward, I suppose," Sirius said, wondering how it was so easy to say it and yet so difficult to actually follow his own advice. "Anyway, how has it been at the Ministry, Arthur?"
Arthur shrugged and said, "The same as always. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has relaxed considerably now that they're not hunting you down, but beyond that it hasn't changed much."
"Still filled with power hungry idiots then?" Sirius quickly added, "Not you, of course."
Arthur cracked a smile and, as the noise around them made it difficult to hold a one-on-one conversation, they walked into the empty dining room. It was roughly the same size as the kitchen, and Sirius was certain he'd never spent more than five minutes in it.
"The Ministry has its share of... idiots, yes," Arthur said with a smile. "But it's changed quite a bit since the days of the war. You might want to think of looking for a job there- they're always hiring, and while you most likely won't make a fortune, it's not particularly difficult work."
A job? Sirius hadn't really thought much about working- he hadn't really thought more than a week in the future at a time. But maybe Arthur had a point. After all, he couldn't live off of his savings forever. His parents hadn't left him any money, but James's parents had, and that had kept him going for his first few months of freedom. That money would eventually run out, though, and even small houses cost money to upkeep. But still, the Ministry? Sirius had never been a fan of the Ministry, even before he'd been sent to Azkaban without a trial, and he imagined he would be miserable there. To move upward the slightest bit involved copious brown nosing, and Sirius didn't think he had that in him.
"I suppose I haven't thought much about it," he said after a moment. "But I don't think I'd fit in there."
"Well," Arthur said, taking a seat at the never-before-used dining room table, "What do you like to do?"
"Erm. I like animals," Sirius said after a moment. "And flying, though I doubt any Quidditch team would take me on at my age... I like the outdoors, too."
"You know," Arthur said, smiling at the thought, "I've heard that the Prophet is looking for a local Quidditch correspondent now that they're splitting national and international coverage. I don't have any connections with them, but I don't doubt they'd give you a chance- your name would sell papers, after all."
"I don't have any experience," Sirius started, then paused. "Well... I did write pamphlets every now and then during the war. Nothing serious, just little funny blurbs to keep spirits up. The rest of the Order seemed to like them..."
"It's certainly worth a try," Arthur agreed.
A Quidditch correspondent- Sirius couldn't believe he'd never thought of it. He wasn't a fabulous writer, but he had a firm grasp on the rules of grammar and spelling, and besides that, he loved Quidditch. And it wasn't as though he'd be in an office all day; he'd be going to Quidditch games and interviewing the players and their managers. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like the best job ever.
Still, the Daily Prophet hadn't been especially kind to him- but at the same time, there had been a full front page article devoted to his acquittal and how the justice system had failed him. Not that Rita Skeeter hadn't had her own interpretation, but she was like the mold that turned up in even the nicest of places. He could deal with her. Would his lack of experience be a problem? He could probably scrounge together a few of the old pamphlets, but that might not be enough. The Prophet might hire him, but there was no promise he wouldn't become an unpaid intern for the next ten years.
"Thanks, Arthur. I'll have to look into that." Sirius straightened himself up slightly. With a smile, he added, "And if all else fails, I'll just run for Minister."
Harry paused in front of the sink, looking for a place to deposit his plate. It was full, as was the counter top. Reaching for his wand, he tried to remember the spell Sirius had taught him several days ago. After a moment's thought it came to him, and he said, "Aguamenti!"
A clear jet of water erupted from the tip of his wand, rinsing the worst of the residue off the plate. Someone behind him cleared their throat loudly, and Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley standing directly behind him.
"Oh," he said, trying to think of an excuse as quickly as possible. Failing, he instead said, "Hi."
Before Mrs. Weasley could say anything, Sirius and Mr. Weasley walked in from the dining room. Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, "I do hope you're not allowing Harry to perform magic- it is forbidden over the holidays."
Mr. Weasley passed by without a word, and gave Harry a sympathetic smile on his way to the back garden, where almost everyone else had migrated for dessert.
"Ah, yeah," Sirius said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "The way I look at it, he's getting good practice, and at least it's in a controlled environment- Harry, what spell did you use?"
"Aguamenti," Harry said, flushing slightly at the disapproving look Mrs. Weasley gave him.
"That's a sixth year spell," Sirius said proudly. "See? Like I said, it's good practice-"
"I doubt Professor Dumbledore or the Ministry would think of it the same way." Mrs. Weasley folded her arms. "Those stories of children blowing limbs off aren't to be taken lightly, Sirius-"
"I highly doubt Harry's going to blow his limbs off with a stream of water, Molly."
"Look," Harry cut in. "I'm sorry- I'll stop using magic until I go back to school, all right?"
"Thank you, Harry." Mrs. Weasley smiled at him, and added, "You're very sensible."
Sirius smiled as well- Harry knew that he knew him well enough to know that he was only saying it for Mrs. Weasley's sake. And he would be more careful about only using magic when Sirius was around.
"I'm going to get my broom, all right?" he said, starting for the living room, where the stairs were located. "I promised Ron he could give the Firebolt a try."
He'd made it halfway up the stairs when he heard his name in the middle of Sirius and Mrs. Weasley otherwise hushed conversation. He paused, trying not to let curiosity get the best of him, but found that his legs were moving back downstairs of their own accord. Sitting on the bottom step so he wouldn't be seen, Harry craned his head toward the archway leading to the kitchen and kept as quiet as possible.
"...to remember that he's young and impressionable," Mrs. Weasley was saying quietly. "He's a good boy, and very kindhearted, but you can't let him take advantage of you-"
"Molly, it was my idea to let him use magic," Sirius said. Harry heard a chair scrape against the floor, followed by a faint grunt as Sirius sat in it. "It's like I said, it's a controlled environment. And Harry's a good kid; he isn't going to blow up the house."
"Not intentionally."
"Molly-"
"He needs a role model," Mrs. Weasley said, slightly louder, before lowering her voice once again. "I don't doubt that you care for him greatly, but he's thirteen years old. You need to set rules-"
"He's nearly fourteen," Sirius said, not bothering to lower his voice now. "And he's very mature. Thank you for the advice, but I think I know my godson well enough."
"You've known him for a few months. Arthur and I have known him for almost three years, and-"
"The Dursleys knew him for thirteen years, and look how well-"
"Arthur and I have known him for almost three years," Molly repeated, ignoring Sirius's interruption, "And while he's a wonderful boy, he has managed to get into quite a bit of trouble unsupervised."
"He hasn't been in that much trouble," Sirius said dismissively. "Trust me, I was much worse when I was fourteen."
"And look where you ended up!"
There was a long silence, and then Sirius said, "I suppose it was my fault I was framed, then. I guess I-"
"I'm sorry," Mrs. Weasely cut in. Her voice uncharacteristically soft, she said, "That was unfair of me. I didn't mean to imply anything of the sort. I only... I care a great deal about Harry; Arthur and I consider him another son. I care about you as well, and I only have your best interests at heart..."
"Yeah, well..." Sirius sighed, and Harry could picture him starting to run a hand through his hair, expecting for it to be long and tangled and instead finding his newer, closely cropped cut. "I know you do. But I have everything under control. Trust me."
Mrs. Weasley's voice grew faint as her footsteps traveled in the direction of the back door. "I'm always here to lend an ear or advice if you need it."
"Oh, I don't doubt that," Sirius said, so low that Harry barely heard. He didn't think Mrs. Weasley did, and if she did hear she didn't say anything. In a slightly more sincere tone, Sirius added, "Thank you, Molly."
Harry had just risen to his feet when the back door closed and Sirius pushed his chair back. He'd made it halfway up the stairs when Sirius called after him, "I can hear you, you know."
Harry winced and came back downstairs. Hovering over the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, he said, "Sorry. Are you angry?"
Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "Nah. I'd have done the same thing."
"Thanks for standing up for me," Harry said, knowing Mrs. Weasley meant well but appreciating Sirius's defense of him all the same. "And I'll be careful to only use magic when no one else is around from now on."
"Thanks," Sirius said, and he smiled slightly as he shook his head. "I can't help but laugh at the idea of me setting rules and all that."
"So, there aren't any, then?" Harry asked. They hadn't discussed the matter before, and until now he hadn't thought much about it. "Rules, I mean?"
"Well, no, not really," Sirius said. He waved his wand and the dishes in the sink began to wash themselves. "Just don't stay out all night, don't act like an arsehole, and don't blow up the house. Though I suppose those are general life rules, aren't they?"
Harry grinned. "I can live with that. You're awesome, Sirius."
"I try," Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows and smiling. "Now, didn't you say you were getting your Firebolt?"
"Right! I forgot." Harry started for the stairs once more and, not for the first time, thought about how grateful he was not to be living with the Dursleys any longer.
Sirius strode outside, trying to keep from appearing outwardly agitated. Where did Molly get off telling him how to treat Harry? As far as he was concerned, Harry had done a damn good job at taking care of himself. He'd been raised by the Dursleys of all people, and he was remarkably well adjusted. It wasn't his place to raise him, and as far as Sirius was concerned, he already was raised. Treating Harry like a young child was ridiculous- it would be like setting rules for James.
"Oi, Sirius," Fred said as he passed one of the picnic tables that had been set up. "Have you got a moment?"
"Yeah. What is it?" Sirius asked, taking a deep breath and pushing Molly's meddling out of his head.
Fred and George got to their feet and motioned for Sirius to join them several feet away where they wouldn't be heard.
"So," George said. He glanced and Fred, then went on. "We hear from Harry that you used to be a bit of a... prankster back at Hogwarts."
Sirius smiled- saying that he had been a 'bit' of a prankster was like saying Peeves was only 'slightly' chaotic. "Yeah, you could say that. What about it?"
"My brother and I are working on a private business," Fred said, rubbing his hands together. "The ultimate goal is to own a joke shop, but small steps and all that."
"We were wondering if you would be interested in becoming our first sponsor." Together, the twins glanced in the direction of their mother, who was too busy speaking with Percy to pay them any mind. "Mum wouldn't need to know, of course."
"That depends," Sirius said, intrigued despite his best efforts to remain stoic. "What kinds of products would you be selling? And to whom?"
"Joke products, mostly," George said, and he nodded at Fred to elaborate.
"Yeah, for Hogwarts students. We're finishing up work on the Ton-Tongue Toffee." Fred's eyes lit up as he explained how the sweet worked, and Sirius couldn't help but be a bit impressed. The twins were quite talented from the sound if it- a lot of work seemed to have gone into the inner workings of the project, especially when it came to the extent of trial and error they'd already worked through.
"You might want to add a bit of fluxweed," Sirius suggested once they'd finished their spiel, leaning against a tree and watching Harry kick off into the air- he'd have to get a turn or two with the broom later on, before it got dark. "Just a small amount. It'll counteract the worst effects so there's no risk of lasting damage."
Fred and George nodded in unison. Approvingly, George said, "That would work- thanks, Sirius. And about that sponsorship..."
"I'll have to think about it," Sirius said. After all, he was unemployed and had to conserve his money until he found a job. That, and the last thing he needed was Molly pounding down his door and hexing him into a newt. Then again, it was his sworn duty as a Marauder to encourage and help any budding prankster... "How about you work on ironing out the kinks when it comes to the toffee, then come back to me and we'll talk?"
Fred raised an eyebrow at George, who nodded. "You have a deal."
Sirius shook both the hands that were subsequently offered to him and said, "It's good to know that Hogwarts is still occupied by those devoted to the art of the practical joke. Harry told me you were the ones who gave him the Marauder's Map."
"We did," George said with a nod. "The Marauders helped us many a time when hiding from Filch. And the passageways they managed to discover- geniuses, the lot of them."
"I wouldn't say geniuses." Sirius laughed, enjoying the flattery all the same, and added, "Though it was a lot of hard work, don't get me wrong."
"Hold it," Fred said, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "Hold it. You're not saying..."
"You couldn't be..."
Sirius blinked once, in surprise. "What, a Marauder? I assumed Harry told you- I'm Padfoot." Noting the twins' incredulous expressions, he asked, "He really didn't say anything about it?"
The twins gaped at him open mouthed, then at each other, then at him again before dropping to their knees and pretending to grovel at his feet. George stood up and grabbed his hand, shaking it more vigorously this time. "You, sir, are a hero-"
"An inspiration to us all-"
"A hero," George repeated. "A national hero-"
"An international hero-"
"A universal hero-"
"Will you adopt us?"
Sirius laughed- he liked these two. They'd have certainly fit in with the Marauders, and it was nice to meet someone who wasn't constantly encouraging him to grow up. Even Remus had somehow transformed into the sort of rule abiding adult they'd both hated so much as teenagers. "Your mum and dad might have something to say about that."
"Ah, well," George said. "It was worth a shot, wasn't it? But you have to tell us how you did it- we tried to create our own version of the map and failed miserably."
"We want details," Fred agreed, nodding. "And who were the others? Prongs was always the best at insults-"
"And Moony gave the best advice when it came to secret passages-"
"Well, Prongs was James," Sirius said, and all at once the old memories began to wash over him. Hiding from Filch; planting dungbombs around the perimeter of the Great Hall just before dinner; charming the suits of armor to sing dirty songs- "Harry's father. And Moony was Remus."
"Remus? That Remus? As in Remus Lupin?" Fred gestured at Remus, then shook his head, but he continued to grin all the same. "You have to be joking. He gave us detention six times last year. Are you sure he's Moony?"
"Pretty sure, yeah." Sirius rolled his eyes and smiled. "Remus! Come over here, would you?"
Remus was speaking with Arthur, and he held up a single finger as a signal to wait a moment. As he approached, he seemed to take in the slightly awed expressions of Fred and George and Sirius's own grin. Almost suspiciously, he asked, "All right, what's going on here?"
Sirius clapped him on the back and said, "I was just telling Fred and George here about our days as Marauders-"
"You're our hero," Fred cut in. "We never thought we'd actually meet you-"
"And to think you were right there for nearly a year and we had no idea-"
Remus's lips thinned and he cleared his throat. In an unnatural, stiff sounding voice he said, "Yes, well, that was a very long time ago. Sirius, can I have a word with you?"
Bloody hell, what had he done wrong this time? Remus always seemed to find something to disapprove of, no matter how small, and it was with a small sigh that he said, "Yeah, sure. Fred, George, I'll talk with you later, then?"
"Absolutely," George said, and as they walked back toward the picnic table he called over his shoulder, "A universal hero!"
Sirius turned to Remus, who had folded his arms and was giving him a hard look. "Oh, come on. So I told them that you're Moony. It's not that big a-"
"That was a long time ago, Sirius," Remus said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't regret any of it, but I'd rather you not announce from the rooftops the sorts of trouble I got myself into years and years ago!"
"Lighten up, I'm not shouting it from the rooftops; it's just the twins. They're all right; you know that-"
"They're impressionable," Remus cut in. He began to pace back and forth, glancing up only when Harry shot past on the Firebolt. "They're incredibly bright and they can do so much more than just... just joke around like we did."
"Impressionable," Sirius repeated. The word felt unnatural as he said it, and he wrinkled his nose. "There's that damn word again, impressionable. I can understand it coming from Molly, but not from you. Since when did you get so old?"
"I grew up, Sirius." Remus put a hand on Sirius's shoulder, clearly putting an effort into keeping his voice somewhat soothing, but not fully succeeding. "I know it's been rough on you, spending so much of your life in Azkaban, but you need to understand that we're adults now."
Sirius disagreed- in his mind, he was only as old as he felt, and he didn't feel very old at all. Maybe he was an adult, but he didn't need to transform into the exact opposite as he'd been as a child. "I already understand that we're adults. I own a house, I'm in charge of Harry's well being, and I'm going to look for a job soon. I'm thirty-four. Seems pretty adult to me-"
"You know what I mean!" Remus said a little too loudly. Ginny and Hermione glanced in their direction, momentarily distracted from their game of chess, and he gave them a strained smile before turning back to Sirius. "I'll never regret being a Marauder, and you'll always be my closest friend, but it's not the seventies anymore. I have a new life, and I'm not ready to advertise my old one to my former students."
"Fine," Sirius said, just wanting to shut him up. Remus was stubborn, and he knew he wouldn't convince him of anything once his mind had been made. "We'll agree to disagree."
"Fine," Remus agreed, and they both relaxed the smallest amount. "It's better than arguing with someone whose mind is made up."
"Describing yourself again, Moony?"
Remus didn't say a word and instead walked over to the picnic table without any further comment. Forcing himself not to follow and continue the argument, Sirius watched as Harry landed and dismounted from his broom before handing it off to Ron, who kicked off so hard he yelped when he shot up more quickly than he'd expected. He wondered if Ron would ever grow up and want to put his childhood behind him, and if the twins would do the same. Would he have done the same if he hadn't gone to prison? Sirius hoped not. He liked being himself, and he didn't want to grow up if it meant becoming straight laced like Remus, as much as he cared for his friend.
Following him to the picnic table, he said, "Look, let's not fight. I'm sorry I snapped at you. Are we all right?"
Remus let out a small, barely audible laugh. "Yeah, we're all right, Sirius."
"Good," Sirius said. "Because you're one of the only friends I have left."
Neither of them said anything further on the matter, and Sirius quickly pushed the whole thing from his mind. Life was too short to worry about disagreements and small arguments, especially when so much of it had been lost already.
The sun had finally finished setting after a long, lazy day of doing nothing. Harry had spent half an hour in the morning working on his Charms homework before deciding he was in no mood to do schoolwork. He much preferred playing a few games of Gobstones with Sirius, followed by learning how to cast a rudimentary shield charm.
"I'm going out for a fly, all right?" he said, poking his head into Sirius's room. "I'll be back later."
Sirius lowered his copy of the Daily Prophet. "Sure. Have a good time."
"I will," Harry called over his shoulder as he headed back to his own room to retrieve the Firebolt.
Until now, he hadn't done much exploring, at least not extensively. He and Sirius had traversed the general area around the house, but he was beginning to wonder just what was in the distance. Once he was in the air, Harry continued to fly higher and higher up until he saw the stream he'd heard when he'd first arrived at the house. He flew until he was directly over it, and then began to fly north. The trees grew thicker and denser the further he went, forcing him to slow down after several minutes.
Eventually the stream ended and he reached a pond, and when he landed Harry found that water was clear and pure. Maybe he'd go swimming one day. He'd never learned how, but he doubted Sirius would mind teaching him.
Everything was still; no car alarms or Dudley snoring or arguments down the street. Lying flat on his back, Harry closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of pine needles and dirt. Tomorrow, he decided, he would come back with Sirius. They would have a picnic, and then they would practice more spells. Maybe Sirius would show him the basics of swimming. It wouldn't take that long to reach the pond- about half an hour by foot, he estimated.
Maybe Sirius would tell him more about his parents- he'd already learned that his father had been a prankster and had been in love with his mother ever since they'd first met on the Hogwarts Express. Meanwhile, his mother had repelled his every advance until seventh year, when, as Sirius put it, James pulled his head out of his arse. They sounded like fun people to be around, and Harry wished now more than ever that he'd been able to get to know them. Being able to put personalities to faces suddenly made them seem all the more real.
What had his father been like when he was fourteen? What had his mother been like? Had they ever imagined their lives would end so quickly? Had Sirius ever imagined he'd be accused of betraying them? And Wormtail, had he ever imagined that-
Harry shuddered involuntarily. He couldn't quite get that image out of his head, the one of the Dementor lowering its hood and bending over Pettigrew and-
He hated Pettigrew. It was because of Pettigrew that his parents were dead and he'd had to live with the Dursleys. But his soul... his soul was just gone. The idea that someone's soul could be completely and irreparably destroyed was enough to make Harry's heart race and his skin grow clammy. What would that be like? Just to vanish from existence and never, ever come back?
Opening his eyes, Harry sat up and shook his head firmly. He wouldn't think about that, because there was nothing he could do about it. When his heartbeat didn't immediately slow down, he mounted his broom and began to fly once more. Flying was always a comfort, and after about half an hour of determinedly thinking about something, anything else he found himself breathing evenly once again.
It was getting late. The moon had been out for a few hours at the very least, and Harry guessed that it was approaching midnight. He'd have to head back soon- he didn't want to worry Sirius. Still, he had some time, and he knew Sirius wouldn't mind him being out late. His surroundings were wonderfully peaceful, and Harry soared through the night air, trying to reach that point where everything became a blur. He was well above the treetops, so he had no fears of hitting a tree, and after a moment he found that he was going fast enough for everything to just begin to lose their distinct shapes.
Maybe he'd invite Ron and Hermione over for part of the summer. His birthday was in two weeks, and he doubted Sirius would mind two more mouths to feed. He and Ron and Hermione weren't much trouble, either. They didn't need to be looked after. He'd have to be careful using magic around Hermione, though. Ron wouldn't mind- in fact, he'd probably join him- but Hermione would nag them mercilessly until they all but snapped their wands in two to satisfy her.
Harry dove toward the stream, and did a corkscrew before pulling back up into the air. He'd be in perfect shape for Quidditch this year. Maybe Gryffindor would win the Quidditch Cup again- he'd love to see the face on Snape's face if that happened. Grinning at the mental image that came forth, Harry dove once more. He had to get some practice in if he wanted it to become a reality.
Sirius wasn't especially concerned when Harry didn't come back at midnight. He'd gone out flying late before, and besides, he was always careful to be quiet when going to his room to avoid disturbing anyone. At twelve thirty he began to wonder what was keeping him so long, and by the time it was one in the morning he officially began to worry. Harry was low maintenance- he didn't have to worry about him setting a pack of Nogtails loose in the kitchen, and he wasn't the type to stay out all night either.
The woods around the house were safe, and the wards were strong, but Sirius found himself thinking of all the various ways Harry might have injured himself. Had he fallen off his broom and broken something? Was he lying in pain on the ground right this second? Sirius grabbed his wand and hurried downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. It wasn't like Harry to stay out so late; something must have happened to him.
Wishing he had a broom of his own, Sirius started across the back garden and, hopefully, called out, "Harry? Are you there?"
There was no answer. Sirius had just started into the woods when he had an idea. Turning back toward the house, he hoped with all his might that Hedwig wasn't out flying tonight. He'd never find Harry at a quarter past one in the middle of the woods, and owls were nearly always able to deliver a letter. To his relief, Hedwig was napping in her cage, a half-eaten rat below her perch.
"Hey, Hedwig, I need you to do me a favor," Sirius said, reaching for a piece of parchment and a quill. "Deliver this to Harry, would you?"
The note was short- Are you all right? Send up sparks if you can't get back home. Hedwig let out a half asleep, somewhat annoyed hoot but soared out the window all the same. If Harry didn't come back or send a signal in ten minutes he was going to go searching for him.
Sirius went back downstairs and sat at the back step. If something had happened to Harry, it would be his fault. He had condemned James and Lily to their deaths with his own stupidity, and now Harry? Sirius felt the urge to transform just as he always did when everything became too much to deal with, but this time he knew he couldn't. Instead, he rose to his feet and began to pace, and when Hedwig flew back in the direction of the house, his stomach sank. Harry wasn't following her, and no sparks had been sent.
He'd just begun to stride back toward the woods when he heard a faint whoosh overhead. Harry landed several feet away from the back door, note in hand, looking vaguely bewildered. "Sirius?"
Sirius let out a deep sigh of relief and hurried toward his godson. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Harry said blankly. "I was just getting in some Quidditch practice."
Closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, Sirius leaned against the outer wall of the house. He was all right. He was all right- he wasn't hurt. Now instead of being worried, Sirius felt himself starting to become angry. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Harry gaped at him. "What? What did I do? I was just flying; I told you I was going out flying-"
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"I dunno," Harry said, shrugging. "Midnight, maybe? I was about to head back, anyway."
Sirius could hear his own voice become sarcastic without any effort on his part, and he said, "Maybe I should use a permanent sticking charm to fuse a watch to your wrist. It's almost one thirty."
Harry cringed slightly, then laughed in embarrassment. "Really? I'm sorry, Sirius, I really didn't know-"
"I was worried about you!" he cut in, feeling his anger grow at Harry's laughter, embarrassed or not. "It's common courtesy not to worry someone like that-"
"Calm down, would you?" Harry asked. His voice went slightly high and he said, "It's no big deal. And I thought you said there weren't any rules-"
"There's a difference between not having rules and being an inconsiderate git!" Sirius shouted. Harry reared back automatically and Sirius struggled to keep his voice low when he spoke again. "Look. I... I treat you like a housemate, all right? I'm new at this godfather thing, you know that. I'm not going to set you a curfew or anything like that, but I trust you to use your own judgment on things like these."
"It was an accident," Harry muttered, pushing past him to go inside. As Sirius followed, he said, "And I apologized. Will you lay off already?"
"I'm being nice," Sirius warned him. When Harry tried to go further into the house, he grabbed his arm and added, "Don't test me."
"What are you going to do, then?" he shot back, yanking his arm free and taking a tone Sirius had never heard from him before. "Send me to my room?"
Sirius took a deep breath- for the first time he was tempted to, just to end the argument. But no, he couldn't do that- Harry was his friend; they were equals. He couldn't send him to his room, because then he would be like Molly and Remus. He would be old. It would be like... like sending James to his room- completely ludicrous.
"I never should have bought you that bloody thing in the first place," he finally said, nodding at the Firebolt.
Harry glanced at the broom in his hand, then back at Sirius. "Yeah, well, I think I liked it more when you were trying to kill me."
He couldn't do this anymore. If he kept the conversation up he'd completely lose it, and his head was pounding hard enough already. Rubbing his forehead again, Sirius glared at Harry, who glared right back at him. "Sod off, why don't you?"
Harry muttered something under his breath and stalked upstairs, slamming the door behind him. Sirius made his way to his own room across the hall, and slammed his door as well.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Sirius found that he couldn't sit still. He rose to his feet and began to pace instead. Who did Harry think he was? He'd had every right to be worried when he hadn't come home. It was common courtesy not to stay out all night without mentioning it. All right, maybe he'd yelled a bit, but he'd been justified- it wasn't just because Harry was young. He'd have reacted the same way had it been Remus or anyone else.
Molly and Remus couldn't be right. He and Harry had a decent arrangement, and if they argued now and then, well, all friends argued, didn't they?
An odd sort of unease had settled in Sirius's stomach, and for a moment he wondered if it was such a good idea to act as though Harry was older than his age. But he was a good kid, and the idea of doing parental things like setting bedtimes and grounding him was beyond ridiculous. Harry would just laugh in his face if he tried it. Besides, Sirius was far from an adult himself. It would be like... well, again, like telling off James.
Sirius wished he could be like Mr. Potter- he'd been perfect when he'd let Sirius move in after he ran away from home. He'd never treated him like a child and he'd been a friend instead of an authority figure. Whenever Sirius did something wrong, Mr. Potter didn't shout at him. Instead, he sat with him and they talked it over until the matter was resolved. It was like talking man-to-man, and it was exactly the sort of relationship Sirius wished to emulate with Harry.
Of course, Sirius had always been willing to listen.
Sirius stepped out of his room and paused outside Harry's door. "Can I come in?"
"Go away," Harry said loudly.
"I don't want to fight. Can we just talk?" Sirius leaned against the wall and added, "Man-to-man."
"Go away," Harry repeated.
Sirius opened the door anyway and walked in. "Look, like I said, I'm not looking to fight. All right?"
Harry was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He shot Sirius a glare as he got to his feet. "Then leave me alone, why don't you?"
"I don't want to act like... like a dad to you," Sirius said, taking a step back and pausing in the doorway. "That's not my place, and as far as I'm concerned you're my friend before anything else."
"Then why wouldn't you just accept my apology?" Harry asked. He sat back on his bed and leaned against the wall. "You know I didn't stay out that late on purpose."
"It's because you're my friend." Sirius sat next to him and said, "Wouldn't you have been worried if the roles had been switched?"
"I would have listened to what you had to say," Harry muttered under his breath.
"Yeah, well, we're all human, aren't we?"
Harry didn't say anything straight away, instead busying himself by staring at his lamp. Finally, he said, "I really didn't mean to worry you."
"I know you didn't." Sirius patted Harry somewhat awkwardly on the shoulder and said, "We'll be all right. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I know." Harry relaxed slightly and gave him a small, slightly strained smile. "I'm going to try to get some sleep."
Sirius nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He already knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight, and as he headed into his bedroom he transformed into a dog and hopped onto the bed. It was going to be a long night.
