A/N:

"Well, cheers..."

And with a flourish, Sirius Black raised the goblet to his mouth. His head slowly tilted back as he downed the sludgy, pea-green potion in one long draught When he was done, he licked his lips clean and grinned at the two men watching him.

"Who wants to bet on the exact moment that this stuff will make me violently ill?"

"Do you promise not to cheat by exaggerating or hiding your symptoms?" queried Albus Dumbledore with some interest.

Remus Lupin shook his head and sighed. It was easy for Dumbledore to joke. He hadn't been present all those years ago. But Remus remembered the nerve-wracking night in fifth year when his friends drank the potion necessary to start them on their way to becoming Animagi. He had paced anxiously back and forth, watching them succumb one after another to varying degrees of illness as the potion's insidious effects crept through their bodies, making bone and muscle and organs receptive to the radical change of bodily transformation. He had nearly bolted to the Hospital wing to summon Madame Pomfrey a dozen times that night. But, each time, Sirius or James or Peter prevented him, each insisting he was okay, that the mind-cracking headaches would pass, the knife-edged joint pains would cease, the dizziness, the muscle spasms, the fever, all would end.

He wondered how badly Sirius would react to this new potion. He'd suffered for five long days and nights the first time around, much longer than either Peter or James. He had been the only one of the three who'd vomited repeatedly after the first two days of illness. Dragging himself to classes, pale and shaking and obviously very ill, Sirius had refused every effort by his professors to be sent to the Hospital Wing for fear that Madame Pomfrey would dose him with a concoction that might interfere with the Potion.

Remus had done all he could to help nurse Sirius through his ordeal. But, Sirius had been a difficult patient, unwilling to admit to how much pain he was in, and ashamed of the weakness that would suddenly wash over him, leaving him almost completely incapable of taking care of himself.

Remus, too, had felt awkward. The young werewolf had tried not to add to what he felt was Sirius' totally misplaced shame. After all, if you're too dizzy to walk to the bathroom under your own power, and your stomach insists on violently heaving out whatever is inside it, and an appropriate receptacle is not found quickly, a mess will be made. Remus was quite competent with cleaning charms, but that had not lessened Sirius' mortification.

Further complicating the situation was the necessity of touching Sirius. Helping him remove his clothes, bundling him into bed, wiping his brow with a cool compress to try to ease the fever. Remus had nursed all three of his friends to some degree, but close proximity to James and Peter had not made his pulse dance.

Sirius was another matter entirely. Remus' hands had had a will of their own, irresistibly drawn to the firm flesh and midnight hair of his very ill friend. And, though he tried to deny it to himself, the clear-thinking part of his brain calmly informed him whenever he let his hands linger on the sick teen's body for more time than was strictly necessary. He had felt vaguely ashamed and deliciously thrilled at the same time.

Fifteen-year-old Remus Lupin had only just begun to sort through his emotions about Sirius Black.

Now Remus pushed past the dimly erotic tone of his memory to recall how helpless he had felt, not knowing what to do as Sirius had suddenly writhed in agony from the potion, every muscle in his body contorting with the effort of not crying out. Remus remembered brushing a fall of black hair from Sirius' face. Its pleasurable silkiness had seemed a cruel contrast to the pain wracking Sirius' body.

That hair had felt like heaven. Remus smiled at the memory.

"What are you so happy about? That I'm the one who'll be puking his guts out over the next few days and not you?" Sirius' bantering voice brought Remus back to the present. The werewolf's smile widened as he lightly coiled his fingers through the ebony mane. "No, of course not. But, I'll be here to take care of you."

To their surprise, the effects of the Polyanimagus Potion were not nearly as violent as the Animagus Potion. The end result was that Sirius felt like the victim of a mildly annoying flu. However, his achy, tired, congested feverishness did not make him a docile and grateful patient. Instead, he settled firmly into restless irritability.

It was not one of his more endearing traits. After several days of listening to Sirius' petulant complaints whining through the air like an unseen plague of mosquitoes, Remus decided to seize the occasion of a visit by Harry to go see Dumbledore.

He gave Harry some parting words of advice. "Don't take his grumbling to heart, Harry. Sirius has never been a good patient and he's in an obstreperously foul mood today."

Harry decided to fight surliness with unbridled bonhomie as he entered the bedroom.

"Feeling any better?" He asked in a loud, cheerful tone from the foot of the bed.

A muffled snarl emanated from beneath the comforter. "'Obstreperously foul'?" Sirius slapped back the bedclothes and glared up at Harry. "Why can't he simply say I'm stroppy? Oh, no! It's so much better to use six syllables rather than just two. He's such an insufferable swot!"

"I'll take that as a 'no.' Harry continued in his ear-cracking tone. "I'm going to make tea. Can I get you a cup?"

Why did healthy people always assume that illness automatically made one deaf? Upper lip curled, Sirius drew breath to snap off his godson's head. With a visible effort, he held onto his temper. Barely. "Sure. Thanks." A fit of sneezing sent him diving for his supply of tissues.

By the time Harry returned, Sirius had struggled into a sitting position. He rested against the headboard, a bathrobe draped around his shoulders. Unshaven, his nose red from constant blowing, his hair a tangled nest, Sirius looked disreputable rather than sick, like a vagrant whose sustenance relied on too much alcohol and not enough food. But, his lips twitched into a rueful smile as he took the mug from Harry.

"Thank you. Sorry I'm so disagreeable."

Harry sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, propped against a bedpost. "It's okay. I think there should be a law that says we're entitled to be irritable when we've got flu."

Sirius felt a sudden stab of shame at his continued truculence in the face of Harry's understanding, not to mention Remus' tender care. "I'm driving poor Remus mad," he sighed. "He was ecstatic at the thought of escaping from me once you got here."

"Well, maybe you should do something nice for him when you're better."

Harry saw a flash of some emotion sweep over his godfather's face. "My opportunities to do something nice for him are a bit limited at the moment."

"Chocolate is always good," Harry affirmed. He grinned conspiratorially. "What if you gave him a couple of bars of Honeydukes' best? And threw in one or two of their newest flavor? They have a mocha fudge bar that can make your teeth sing!"

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, isn't there?"

Harry nodded. "And I volunteer to be your chocolate procurer."

Sirius smiled. "Accepted. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

Sirius slouched into his pillows, but his pale eyes stared unwaveringly at the teen. Harry was so like James in some ways and so completely different in others. Sirius silently thanked the powers beyond the veil for granting him his life, for giving him one more precious chance to get to know Harry better, to share part of his life with the son of his best friend. He swore he wouldn't squander the opportunity. With perfect clarity, Sirius suddenly recalled a conversation he'd had with James and Lily, a conversation that had been lost in the murky, nightmare chill of Azkaban. He closed his eyes and once more heard his friends' voices in his mind.

When he opened them he found Harry watching him closely. "Are you alright? You sort of wandered off there for a second."

"I just remembered a conversation I had with your parents."

Sirius debated for a split second on whether to tell Harry or not. But, the look on the boy's face was encouragement enough. In his mind's eye Sirius suddenly saw James' earnest, open expression emerging from the depths of his fractured memories and felt a sharp pang of loss. He waited for it to pass and then began.

"When they told me they wanted me to be the godfather of their child I tried to talk them out of it." He cut off Harry's startled response with a wave of his hand. "Not because of you. Because of me. I told them they were mad if they thought I could be responsible for a child, especially during a war. 'Pick someone with a better chance for survival,'" I told them. "If you can't do that, at the very least pick someone from a normal family.' "

"And what did my parents say?"

With a faint bark of a laugh, Sirius said, "Oh, they sat back in their chairs and completely ignored me. They had themselves a right jolly time comparing notes on why I was the ideal candidate."

He shook his tousled hair off his face and enumerated what he remembered of their game of verbal catch. "Sirius will shelter and protect our child. Assuming he doesn't burn down the house while cooking dinner. He'll foster curiosity and imagination. Thus causing our child to break or blow up all sorts of things in the aforementioned charred house. But, he's good with healing charms, so he'll be able to fix any damage that might result. Although we're not sure how he'll react to dirty diapers."

He paused. "They went on and on until I got really aggravated."

"Aggravated? You!?" Harry interjected with insincere shock.

"Oh, be quiet." Sirius had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed. "I knew your parents were teasing but they were so casual that I felt they were tempting fate. So I started shouting at them. I leaped grandly onto my soapbox and proceeded to lecture them. They needed someone to provide a home for a child, not just a house. A person who'd be generous with affection and time, not just with money or possessions. God knows what other tripe I blathered at them. I'm sure I was quite insufferably patronizing."

Harry stared into space until a wistful smile crept slowly over his features. His eyes snapped back to his godfather. "Well, maybe you were a little obnoxious about it, but your ideas make perfect sense to me."

"James said something like that, in a rather smug tone. Your mum just sat there beaming at me as if I'd passed a very difficult test. I half expected her to pat me on the head and tell me what a good boy I was." He chuckled. That he was increasingly able to recover the warmth of such memories still surprised Sirius. Thus, it came as a shock to see Harry frown. Sirius had thought Harry would appreciate this story. His growing dismay must have been visible, because Harry suddenly gave him a strained smile.

"I thought about us a lot after what happened at the Department of Mysteries." Harry chewed briefly on his lower lip.

"My parents chose the right man. You're one of a handful of people in the world who would drop everything and do whatever it took to help me, even risking your own life. Not because I'm the Boy Who Lived, but because I'm me. Just Harry. But, you're the only one who understands what it's like to be surrounded by people who mistrust you and misjudge you."

"You can say that about Remus, too."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head determinedly, "it's different for him. He came from a real family, didn't he? He grew up with parents who cared about him, didn't he? We didn't have that. We were alone inside our families. We had to rely mostly on ourselves. Do you know what I mean?"

Sirius hesitated for a long moment before replying, "Yeah, Harry. I do."

Not for the first time he was struck by Harry's peculiar blend of maturity and vulnerability. His guts twisted with regret for the long, wasted years they had each suffered because of the wrong choices he had made. And then Harry surprised him again.

"Sirius, do you think it's worse to grow up without your parents, or to grow up with parents who don't care about you?"

The fever must still be affecting him, Sirius thought. How had they jumped so suddenly from discussing chocolate to examining the emotional poverty of their families? He really was an execrable godfather. Just as he was about to utter some falsely cheerful response, Sirius paused. Harry deserved honesty from him, even if that meant admitting he had no idea how to answer the question. Thankfully, his congested nose required attention, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts.

"I don't know, Harry. For years I thought how great it would be if the Potters or the Lupins were my parents. I finally realized that wasn't what I really wanted. I wanted my own mum and dad. I just couldn't afford the price they demanded from me."

Sirius gave a wan smile. "But, I had other people who cared about me very much, even if they weren't blood relatives. My closest friends, James' parents. Even some of the professors here went far out of their way to help me, although I didn't always realize it at the time." His gaunt face darkened with the bitter remorse that always lingered under the surface. "Your parents loved you so very much, Harry. And I'm so sorry that you never got the chance to know them, to feel their affection. No child should have to grow up without being loved."

Harry's fingers picked at the bedspread. Then his head lifted and he eyed his godfather cautiously. "But, that's how it was for you, too, wasn't it?"

"I wasn't unhappy when I was really young. It was only when l got a bit older and met other people's parents I realized how distant and cold my parents could be. And, of course, the older I got and the more I questioned them, the less they liked me."

Sirius was sketching the barest of outlines, Harry realized. But he knew in his heart that, although Sirius may have had all the creature comforts he desired, his childhood had been as barren of love as Harry's own. Tentatively, Harry probed a bit further.

"It hurt, didn't it?"

Sirius shifted against the headboard in a shrugged acknowledgement. "It hurt like hell. But I coped by turning it into anger."

Harry nodded. His own fury sometimes flared almost out of control, even when directed at his friends. It was a betrayal, something that made his friendships seem less true that that shared by his father and Sirius.

"You may have been angry, but at least you never took it out on my dad."

"Oh, but I did," responded Sirius, his voice dripping with self-derision. "I finally reached a point where I couldn't deal with it. I couldn't pretend anymore that it didn't bother me, that it was all a big joke. I felt like everything was sliding out of control. I knew I was going to crash and burn, and I wanted to drag everyone else down in flames with me. What I set in motion when I told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow could have..." Sirius silently shook his head. "I'm very lucky that the love my friends had for me withstood my own stupidity."

Harry understood that feeling all too well. "I haven't meant to put Ron and Hermione in danger, but I've done it. And, even so, they still back me up. They're always there when I need them, even if sometimes they make me even angrier by trying to talk me out of things."

"They've witnessed with their own eyes what it's like to have Voldemort mucking about in your life. They risk your anger because they care about you. Your friends are your family. Hang on to them, Harry. Just be sure to apologize sincerely and profusely when you've been a total bastard, and try not to let it happen again. I'm experienced at that, so let me know if you need any help."

Harry smiled. He felt a rush of affection for Sirius, appreciating that his godfather was willing to display his own mistakes for Harry's sake. Then Harry's thoughts went back to the earlier part of their talk. "So, when did you decide that being my godfather was okay?"

"I hate to admit it, but I managed to put the thought out of my mind for weeks at a time. Until, finally one muggy, overcast morning James very carefully placed this little, new-born bundle in my arms." Sirius' expression softened and his icy eyes gleamed like diamonds at the memory. "You were so small and helpless, with a crown of messy hair and skin soft as rose petals. You closed one tiny hand around the tip of my finger. And that was all it took. I fell hard for you, kid, and that's never changed."

No one had ever said anything quite like that to Harry. It temporarily severed the connection between his brain and his vocal chords. He struggled to regain the power of speech, but the best he could manage was a strangled, "Thanks."

Judging by the smile on Sirius' face, it was enough.

Another voice startled them. "You were deeply fascinating to him, Harry," Remus commented as he entered the bedroom.

"Really?"

"Really. Sirius concocted an endless list of absurd reasons to pop in on your parents at all hours of the day. We saw right through them, of course, because we knew what he really wanted was to see you. He carried you about like you'd become another appendage."

Harry glanced knowingly at his godfather. "Yeah, but I bet you handed me back to my mum when I cried or got fussy."

"I most certainly did not!" Sirius declared with affront. "I was quite capable of curing your fussiness. Besides, you rarely cried or carried on, except when you were tired or hungry. Or when you needed changing."

Mischief bloomed across Sirius' pale face. Harry saw the glance of unholy glee he shared with Remus. With dawning horror, it hit him. "Oh, no! You changed my diapers?!"

Sirius burst into laughter.

"You can't tell anyone!"

"Oh, Harry, you should see yourself!" Sirius collapsed into a prolonged bout of coughing.

"Promise you won't tell anyone!" Frantically, Harry turned to his former professor. "Remus! Make him promise!"

"Sirius, I believe we've found a chink in Harry's armor," Remus said, trying unsuccessfully to smother his own chuckles.

"You wouldn't...I can't believe...You both..." Harry sputtered in shock, which set Sirius off on another gale of laughter and coughing. Finally, Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay. We won't use that against you, since you obviously find it so embarrassing." Sirius glanced fondly back and forth between his companions. "You know, that's the most fun I've had in days."

Later that evening, a freshly bathed Sirius wandered into the sitting room, vigorously blowing his nose. Remus sat at one end of the sofa reading The Daily Prophet. The paper was tossed unceremoniously aside as Remus opened his arms invitingly.

Sirius wasted no time in joining his lover. He gratefully curled into the treasured body and rested his head on a strong shoulder. Arms closed securely around him, and warm, soft lips placed a gentle kiss against his temple.

"You're so good to me, Re."

"Even when you're disagreeable?"

"Especially when I'm disagreeable."

Remus gave a small huff of laughter, his breath warm across Sirius' cheek. "Harry helped your mood, too."

"True. Although I think I'm selfish with him."

"How so?"

"It seems like we always end up talking about me. I've got to figure out how to get Harry to open up about what's going on with him."

"Well, I'm sure he likes being regaled with tales of your deeds when you ran wild through Hogwarts."

"No, it's not like that. He asks me questions. Uncomfortable questions."

"About what?" Remus was surprised by this admission. He had always assumed that Sirius entertained Harry with stories about his and James' exploits.

"About feeling alone. About families. About growing up with relatives who don't care about you." Sirius twisted within the circle of Remus' arms to stare into the soft hazel eyes. "I wish I could make him happier, you know? He's just a kid. He deserves to be a kid."

"His life can't be like any other teenager's, Sirius. You know that." Remus insistently tugged Sirius closer, wrapping his arms tightly around the lean body. "And, trust me, my love. Your return from beyond has made Harry very happy."

"I know." The tension slowly eased from Sirius' body, chased away by Remus' gentling hands. "I guess what bothers me is that I have no idea about how to be a father to him. I get nervous when he asks those questions because often I don't have any answers."

"Maybe Harry sees similarities between his own life and yours. Who better to understand? Ron, who comes from a large and loving family? Hermione? Dumbledore? Harry knows that, not only do you love him, but your own experiences give you insight into his feelings. "

"I worry that I'm going to screw this up. I'm so afraid of making mistakes."

"Oh, Sirius," Remus chuckled. "Every parent makes mistakes. You always thought that the Potters and my parents were perfect."

"They were, compared to my parents!"

"They made mistakes, too. We had our problems and fights."

Sirius grumbled wordlessly.

"You'll make mistakes. You and Harry will argue and fight, and say awful, hateful things to each other. And, at the end of the day, you'll patch it up because of the love you share."

Sirius mulled this over. Remus was probably right, as usual. He'd have been a better choice as Harry's godfather, Sirius thought, as he had countless times before.

Tender lips pressing against his cheek interrupted his musings. They trailed slow kisses along his jaw. Fingers gently tilted Sirius' head to bring his mouth into the perfect position to intercept the wandering lips and stop them for a long, firm kiss.

"I'm a germ breeding ground, Remus," Sirius admonished weakly. "You'll get sick if you keep kissing me."

"No, I won't. The Potion made you ill. I'm immune."

Sirius was too tired to argue with him. "You're good to me, Moony," he mumbled, fighting against the warm drowsiness that stole over him.

"You're repeating yourself. It must be time to tuck you in bed, my sleepy, congested crumpet."

With a loud groan Sirius rolled onto his feet. He headed for the bedroom, picking up various bits of tissue on his way.

"And it's comforting to know that I can always find you by following your trail of used nose wipes," Remus commented wryly.

Sirius answered with as much dignity as his handful of sodden tissues would allow. "I will use whatever tools I have on hand to prevent you from losing me."

Remus' smiled at that, with only a tinge of sadness.

Sirius slid under the covers with a contented sigh and watched his lover prepare for bed. There was something about the spare, precise movements of this routine that Sirius always found soothing. Remus was completely unselfconscious while stripping off and putting away his clothing under Sirius' watchful eyes. Remus had never understood his lover's fascination, but he liked how that warm, affectionate, gaze lingered on him.

Once he got into bed, Sirius burrowed close, encouraging Remus to once more gather him into a comfortable embrace.

"Re?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever thought about having children?"

"No, not really."

"Why not?"

Tensing slightly, Remus wondered why Sirius always chose odd moments to bring up topics that Remus preferred to ignore. "I guess I've never felt it would be possible. And, once I realized I was gay, it seemed even more unlikely."

"Being gay doesn't preclude one from having children."

Remus made an effort to keep his voice light. "Yes, but the Ministry regulates any potential breeding by werewolves."

Sirius' arms tightened about him. "The sodding Ministry is run by hidebound incompetents and malicious, power-hungry buffoons."

Remus' edginess vanished in the face of Sirius' growl. He sometimes thought that his treatment by the Ministry bothered Sirius more than it did himself. With a sigh, his eyes closed and he relaxed, his fingers gently winnowing through Sirius' hair.

But Sirius wasn't ready to drop the subject. "I think you'd be a good father, Remus. And, yes, I know I have an idealized vision in my head about what a father should be. And, yes, I know no one is a perfect father. So, no, I'm not putting you on some sort of paternal pedestal."

His sudden vehemence surprised Remus. "Does this have something to do with your discussions with Harry?"

"Sort of. His questions make me think about family and bloodlines and whatever."

"Your tone suggests you'd rather not think about them."

Sirius sighed. "My feelings about family have always been complicated. Or screwed up. It's just that I'm the last Black and...oh, I don't know. I'm too tired to talk about it now."

In other words, he had been thinking about it but hadn't yet sorted out his feelings. The last Black, Remus mused. Intriguing as this unexpected dynastic concern was, Remus knew better than to push for answers now. If it were truly important to him, Sirius would eventually raise the subject again. Instead, Remus curled a hand around the back of Sirius' neck, brushing lightly across the delicate skin. "Well, I'm ready to listen whenever you're ready to tell me."

His lips found Sirius' mouth, his kisses soft and sweet. When their lips parted Sirius said, "I love you quite madly, Remus Lupin. And don't think I don't appreciate you. I do, even if I am just a surly sack of snot these days."

"You think you have problems, Paddy?" Remus nuzzled into his neck affectionately. "I have to sleep with a surly sack of snot."

TBC