Disclaimer: This story contains characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. and AOL/Time Warner, Inc., and may incorporate characters, locations and things created and/or owned by other third parties including but not Random House, Penguin Putnam, Inc., Ballantine Books, and a lot of other people. This story also contains lines inspired by episode Six of the First Season of the WB series Gilmore Girls. They are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino and I make no claim to them. No permission has been given and since no money is being made here, no infringement is intended.
Chapter 3: Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back
A black and golden spiraling disk sailed through the air, arcing majestically over the picket fence before colliding spectacularly with a bearded dwarf in a blue and yellow waistcoat. It ricocheted off of the dwarf, across the lawn, and into a shut window before it finally landed mere millimeters from a pair of faded white house slippers.
"Sirius Black!" shouted a piercing voice.
Sirius winched as a he dropped to the ground.
"Good job, Sirius," muttered Harry, doing the same. "Miss Julie is going to murder you."
"You were supposed to catch it."
"I can't jump that high. I'm not a frog."
"I was hoping."
"Sirius and Harry Black," called Miss Julie again. "I know you're there so don't bother hiding."
Sighing, they peered over the fence to see her clutching the Frisbee in one hand and waving it a bit like a fan.
"You're both going to have to come closer than that," she said, shaking her head at them.
Sirius stood, silently regretting the fact that he was indeed the adult. "Hey Julie," he said charmingly. "Aren't you looking wonderful this evening, is that a new shawl?"
Miss Julie merely stared at him through her bejeweled oblong glasses. "Might I ask how am I supposed to coach the newest Chopin from his or her current obscurity to superstardom if I not only have to battle with the wailing of whatever heinous emo music that Melanie's son is blasting out of his second story window but also your destructive antics?"
"Well, erm," said Sirius, stepping away from the fence. "All great artists have overcome great adversity to . . . er . . . to give . . . um . . ."
"Give their work meaning," volunteered Harry.
"Exactly!"
"Don't help him, Harry," said Miss Julie firmly. "Your godfather's gotten himself into this mess and he has to get himself out of it."
"I don't suppose an I'm sorry will do the trick?" offered Sirius.
Miss Julie shook her head.
"And I promise not to let it happen again?"
"That will do," said Miss Julie, handing Harry the Frisbee. "And if it does . . ."
Sirius and Harry shook their heads fervently but Miss Julie smiled.
"Try to make sure that it at least hits one of my students in the head and knocks some sense of tune into their tin ears."
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The firelight reflected dramatically of off the crystal glasses and silverware. The clawed cherry wood table brought images of torture chambers to Sirius's mind. As he picked at whatever concoction Orion had prepared for them tonight, he resisted the temptation hum the theme from Psycho no matter how appropriate it was.
"Are you finished?" Orion asked sharply from the head of the table.
Sirius started, dropping his fork with a clatter.
"Oh bullocks," he grumbled, diving for it.
Orion rolled his eyes in frustration.
"Harry, please don't become like your godfather," he sighed, summoning a house-elf forward.
Harry smiled slightly. He caught Sirius's eye and mouthed, "Too late."
"Oh, that reminds me," Orion said as a house-elf finished clearing their dinner plates. "My lawyer, Damien Drake, is coming this Tuesday and I would like you both to select things for me to leave you."
"Leave us when?" Harry asked innocently.
"Think for a sec," Sirius said.
"Oh . . ."
"Just sort out what you would like and stick a . . . what do you call these things?" Orion said, handing Harry a book of yellow sticky notes.
"Post-its?" Harry supplied.
Sirius did not want to fathom how his father had come by post-it notes.
"Orion, don't you think that's just the slightest bit," he paused, trying to find the exact word to describe his father's latest bizarre notion, "morbid."
"You can pick out things as well," Orion added, handing Sirius his own book of post-its.
"Oh, that makes it less creepy."
"Did you hear that, Kreacher? Apparently I'm creepy," said Orion to the decrepit old house-elf as it placed the dessert dishes in front of them. It nodded silently before scurrying back into the kitchen.
"What's this?" Sirius said, staring at the crystal bowl in front of him.
"What does it look like?" countered Orion, wondering what had gotten into his son tonight.
"It looks like chocolate ice cream," replied Harry, tasting it cautiously.
"But you don't like chocolate ice cream, Orion," Sirius pointed out.
"No, but you two do. Or am I mistaken?"
"No," said Sirius carefully as he tasted the dessert.
"I never thought of anyone eating ice cream out of a crystal bowl before," said Harry in between bites.
"You like the bowl?" Orion asked, letting his own dessert melt away. Harry nodded slightly. "Stick a post-it on it."
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"All right, this is officially the strangest evening I have ever spent in this house," said Sirius in resignation as he stuck a green post-it to an end-table that was embellished with carvings of snakes coiling about phoenixes.
"What is that?" asked Harry, pointing to a bizarre silver instrument that was a cross between pinchers and a wrench.
"Just another addition to the Orion Black psycho museum," said Sirius, nudging it aside with his wand.
"How are things in here?" asked Orion, striding into the room.
"Spectacular," replied Sirius, "just getting ready for the big day, you know."
"How I indulge your little sense of humor, Sirius," Orion muttered, leaning on the table.
"Careful there, Orion, we have a post-it on that. We'd like to keep it nice."
"Any special requests for dinner next week?" Orion asked, turning to Harry and ignoring his son. "It is your birthday after all, Harry."
"Oh . . . erm," Harry said, glancing meaningfully toward Sirius.
"Right," Sirius said, biting the tip of his tongue.
"I was thinking we could have a small party," continued Orion.
"Er, actually, Orion, mind if we have a chat?" Sirius asked, taking hold of his father's arm, "In private, preferably."
"Sirius, why are you dragging me like I am a sack of potatoes?"
"Because dragging you like you were a sack of peanuts is too easy to make fun of," Sirius replied as they entered the dining room. "Now as you know next Friday is Harry's eighth birthday so I was wondering—hoping really—if you might be willing to push our weekly dinner back to Saturday."
Orion pursed his lips as Sirius continued to substantiate his argument.
"—and Harry does deserve to spend his birthday with his friends at home so . . . Orion are you listening to me?"
"Pardon?"
Sirius gave him a look.
"No, Sirius," Orion said coolly, "I do not think it would be possible for me to push back our dinners especially considering that Harry's birthday does fall on the one evening in which the pair of you spends in my company."
"Orion, I'm serious, this is my kid's birthday."
"I know your name well enough, son, but I am refusing your request."
"Why?"
"Because Friday nights are my nights, they are what we agreed upon when I gave you the money for Harry's medical bills.
"Wait a second, Orion," Sirius said, holding up a hand to silence him, "I appreciate all the assistance but I did not expect this arrangement to be a constant source of blackmail."
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"So," Sirius began, climbing into the Jeep, "how would you feel about two parties this year?"
"You couldn't get him to cave?" Harry asked.
"No luck, pup, he has his Vulcan Death Grip on that one," sighed Sirius as the car roared to life. "Don't worry; we'll do it up right at home on Saturday."
"I know," Harry said smiling slightly. "But what does Orion have planned, exactly?"
"Well, he did say 'small party' so it shouldn't be too extreme," said Sirius as Harry relaxed a little. He smirked slightly before elaborating on Orion's interpretation of 'small.' "The government will close. Flags will fly at half mast. The Queen will be arriving with corgis in tow. Now the Pope has other plans, but he's trying to get out of them. But Elvis and Jim Morrison are coming and they're crisps."
"You ask a simple question," sighed the boy. "Maybe he'll surprise us. He did serve ice cream tonight."
Sirius could not help but acknowledge Harry's point before adding, "But just wait until next week when he'll serve us sand dibs and marzipan."
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Wind whipping through his hair, the intoxicating scent of summer filling his nostrils, leaves brushing the bottoms of his bare feet . . . yes, thirty feet above the earth was where he belonged. Harry circled lazily as the dusk began to settle. A sharp whistle came from below, his signal to land for the night.
"He's getting quite good at that isn't he?" Andromeda Tonks asked, coming up behind Sirius as he watched Harry very gradually descend. She had invited them over that afternoon to chat about party plans, knowing full well that Sirius would put everything off until the last second.
Sirius nodded. "He'd be up there all night if he could."
"Broom's a bit long though. Fine if you're over six feet but for Harry?"
"Well, its owner doesn't trust him on anyone else's."
"He is definitely your godson though," she teased.
"Excuse me?"
"Your mother nearly nailed your feet to the floorboards to keep you from flying when you were his age, Sirius."
Sirius gave her a boyish smile. "I had forgotten that."
"Wish I had your memory sometimes," Andromeda shook her head as if to banish the demons of her childhood. "Speaking of memories, what's going on Friday instead of the party?"
"Harry and I will be putting in for our weekly sentence at Grimmauld."
Andromeda blinked. "He isn't . . ."
"Oh, he is, couz, and this time he's doing it with glee," replied Sirius.
"Orion Black, you could set your watch by him."
"Not always," said Harry jogging up to them, broom tossed over his shoulder. "Hey Andy," he added.
"Oh, really?" Andromeda asked, her curiosity sparked, "What happened? He wore jeans and played ACDC?"
"No, he was in dress robes and played classical," Sirius said, twisting Harry around and roughing him up a little.
"But he served chocolate ice cream," Harry said, pushing back on Sirius.
"Get out of town!"
"We know," they chorused before Sirius added, "It was probably some expensive form of ice cream but still is was ice cream which in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, in case you've forgotten, is only an acceptable food after you've had a vestigial organ removed."
"You know what that means, right?"
"I'm guessing it's not that he's hedging to stick a horse's head in my bed."
"Good try, but no," said Andromeda, amused. "I think he might actually be reaching out."
Harry and Sirius traded glances, eyebrows raised. "You think?" Harry ventured but Sirius shook his head in an all-knowing manner.
"I wouldn't get my hopes up," he said.
"But he actually listened to something either of you said," Andromeda explained as they walked back inside. "He tuned out that loud roaring in his head that blocks out anything sensible and put thought into doing it."
Once again, they traded looks before Sirius opted to respond, "We'll give him a chance, Andy, but I'm not expecting a miracle of any proportion. After all, this is my father we're talking about. The guy who thought locking his kids in a pseudo-dungeon was a suitable punishment."
"Fair point," she admitted, glancing at her watch. "Merlin, it's late. You'd better be off."
"Tossing us out so early?"
"Some of us have to sleep so yes, Blackie," Andromeda laughed, hugging her younger cousin good-bye. "Keep an eye on him for me, Harry."
"Always do," Harry promised, hugging her as well.
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Upon their return home, Harry was sent to wash up and Sirius was greeted by the ring of the telephone.
"Hello?"
"Sirius, what is your work schedule this week?"
"Orion?"
"Yes, of course it's me. Who else would be calling to ask you that?" barked his father.
"Actually, I was hoping for Claudia Schiffer."
There was a pause during which Sirius was almost sure his father was mentally strangling him.
"When you're finished," Orion said sternly, "I was wondering if you would mind coming with me to pick out a present for Harry."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. This was becoming curiouser and curiouser. "I'm sure whatever you pick out he'll like."
"Yes, but I want to give him something special, something he'll like, something . . . like you would give him." There was a definite desperate note in Orion's voice.
"You're serious about this?"
"According to you, I'm always serious," said Orion with his typical upper crust undertones. "It's just I hardly see the boy, and when I do it's all about Quidditch and Lon—"
"Ron," Sirius corrected.
"Whatever, and for once I was hoping that you'd let me into your secret club for once and help me get him something for his birthday."
Sirius glanced into the kitchen to make sure Harry wasn't coming before replying, "Okay, I'm free any day after five."
"Then I'll meet you in Diagon Alley tomorrow at half-past."
"Okay."
"And dress appro—"
"Father, please don't finish that sentence."
There was another pause before Orion settled on, "I'll see you tomorrow."
"There you go." Just as Sirius hung up Harry came into the hall, still toweling his hair.
"Who was that?" he asked.
"Give you three guesses," Sirius said, taking over the toweling.
"Orion, Orion, and Orion?"
"Good guesses." Sirius finished, balling up the towel.
"What did he want?"
"Pup, you wouldn't believe it if I told you."
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"I can't believe you're actually going to let Sirius's father throw you a party," said Harry's best friend, Ron Weasley. They and Ron's twin brothers had spent the day de-gnoming the Weasleys' garden, a virtually impossible task that Harry actually looked forward to when he came to visit. It gave them a legitimate reason to get dirty.
"He just said a 'small party,' how bad can that be?" Harry replied with a shrug.
Fred laughed hollowly. "Leo, you have got to know better than that by now."
"What do you mean?"
George, Fred's twin, pushed back away from the fresh plot, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Purebloods like Orion Black live to show off their kids like they're trophies. By accepting his invitation to a "small party," you actually said, "Sure Orion, I don't mind you throwing me an expensive party and treating me like a prized show dog by parading me in front of your friends for an entire evening."
"Are they joking?" Harry asked Ron, wide eyed.
"I don't think so," Ron said, looking from Fred to George for any sign of sarcasm. There was none. "I think you're stuck, mate."
"What I can't believe is that Sirius is actually allowing him to do this," Fred said. "I mean, Leo, your father doesn't take any crud from anyone, right?"
Harry nodded.
"So why is he letting this happen?" George finished.
"Because of ice cream," said Harry, feeling his start stomach to sink.
"Ice cream?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, last Friday at dinner Orion served us ice cream for dessert even though he hates ice cream. Since then, they've been . . . not fighting. So maybe Sirius figures that maybe Orion is trying to get to know us, and I dunno, make up for stuff that happened a long time ago or something."
The three Weasleys glanced at each other before Ron said meaningfully, "You know, Leo, you could always buy ice cream."
"I know," sighed Harry, "but it's only one night, right?"
None of the redheads responded.
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After three hours of shopping with his father, Sirius feared that if he quirked his eyebrow one more time that it would stick that way leaving him with a permanently skeptical look. On the upside, some of Orion's suggestions were downright hilarious.
"What about a Sevenston quill?" Orion tried, indicating a long quill with a silver feather.
"To put on his desk at the law firm?" Sirius blurted.
"No," Orion hissed, frustration creeping into his voice. "The boy needs to write with something."
"Not with a hundred Galleon quill, he doesn't," Sirius said shortly.
Orion moved toward another display case. "What about cufflinks? Silver and emeralds?"
"Harry's turning eight, Orion, not forty-eight," sighed Sirius, running a hand through his hair. So much for his plan to sit back and let Orion do all the pointing and purchasing. "Hey, what about these?" he offered, holding up a pair of what looked like red Omnioculars. "Oh, cool, they're actually ViewFinders. They simulate being in whatever place you're viewing."
"Now what practical use do those serve?" Orion stared at the gadget disdainfully.
"Well, erm," Sirius fumbled, "you can finally experience Maui."
It was Orion's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Honestly, Sirius, we're shopping for Harry here."
Sirius frowned, "No, I've been shopping for Harry. You've been shopping for my imaginary godson J. D. Rockefeller."
Orion shook his head in exasperation. "Fine, let's just go then. I knew this was a bad idea to begin with."
"No, Orion," sighed Sirius, taking hold of his father's arm and pulling the man back, "wait. Now, come on, you know how to do this."
"I do?" There was a genuine surprise in Orion's voice.
"Yes, you do," Sirius insisted. "Just think . . . ice cream."
"Ice cream?" Surprise morphed into complete confusion.
"Yes, Father, ice cream," Sirius said seriously. "You asked for my help, right? You're . . . now don't freak but you're . . . well, reaching out. You asked for my help so here it is: think ice cream."
"How Zen of you," Orion muttered.
"Now, look around and pick up something he might like."
Grudgingly, Orion scanned the posh shop for suitable present for an eight-year old. A small silver globe with dozens of pinpricks in it caught his eye. "What about this?" he said, picking it up.
Sirius examined it. The description stated that it reflected the solar system onto any ceiling and shifted in accordance with the Earth's position around the sun. "Oh, wow, that's really good."
"Is it?" The elder Black turned over the globe. "It glows though."
"Even better."
"Are you sure it doesn't look like something I purchased at a Muggle shop? It's only two galleons and nine sickles."
"Three pounds more than at a Muggle shop."
"If you're sure," said Orion, still hesitant.
"Believe me, he'll love it."
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Harry had just finished setting the table when the door opened.
"Hey pup!" Sirius greeted, followed by, "Did you get the mail?"
"Yeah, it's on the end table," Harry shouted back.
Sirius entered the kitchen a second later, flipping through the letters. "Oh, look we're in the first round semi-final drawing for an all purpose recreational vehicle; some coupons; water bill; and the mortgage. Hey, Har', you don't mind taking care of it this month right?"
"Nah," Harry laughed. "Pizza's on its way."
"Such a good provider," Sirius said, tossing the bills in the "IN" bin. "How were the Weasleys?"
"Good, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Percy, Ginny, and Ron all say "hi." We de-gnomed the garden."
Sirius chuckled. "Why is it that whenever you go over someone else's house, you're willing to do their chores but I can't pay you to weed our garden?"
"De-gnoming is fun though," Harry pointed out, "and weeding is just boring."
"Fair enough," his godfather conceded.
"What are those?" Harry asked pointing to the two garment bags Sirius had slung over his shoulder.
Sirius smiled slyly, laying the bags over a chair. "You'd better sit down for this, pup, because in these bags are things that will make you appreciate a simple tie so much more. These are our dress-robes for Friday night." He unzipped one, showing Harry a layer of stiff hunter green material with lace at the cuffs.
Harry regarded it skeptically. "So, this is a costume party?"
"I wish," Sirius said, sitting in another chair. "So I went shopping today with Orion—" Harry winched appropriately—"and for the first three hours it was all, "Hello Orion, who are you buying that for? Have you met Harry?" and then finally I talked and he listened and he ended up getting you something that I think you're really going to like."
"Wow," Harry whispered, the sinking feeling in his stomach falling a few inches lower. "I've never seen you so happy after spend so much time with Orion."
"Well, it's the first time we didn't end up fighting," Sirius admitted. "It wasn't exactly fun, but I didn't get that shooting pain in my forehead like usual."
"Wow," the boy repeated, at a loss for words.
"You know, we could sort of embrace this whole thing. Like Andy said if Orion's reaching out we might as well give him a fair shot."
Harry forced a smile. After all the things the Weasleys warned him about, he couldn't help but feel like this was the calm before the storm, but then again he didn't want to ruin what seemed to be Sirius's best shot at having a semi-normal relationship with his father. And if Sirius was happy, he was happy, right?
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Harry's bedside clock had just stuck midnight when his door opened and a tall figure slipped inside. The boy remained fast asleep as the pajama-clad intruder crossed the room and reached out, brushing his fringe aside. Harry twitched as a single finger stroked his scar before the hand continued to move down his face, rubbing an upturned cheek. His eyelids fluttered as he slowly awoke.
"Happy Birthday, pup," whispered Sirius.
Harry smiled sleepily, scooting over so Sirius could lie down beside him. "Hey," he said, curling against Sirius's side as his godfather wrapped an arm securely about his shoulders.
"I can't believe how fast you're growing up."
"Really?" Harry whispered. "It seems slow."
"Uh uh, trust me it's fast," said Sirius. "So, what do you think of your life so far?"
Harry smiled again. "I think it's pretty good."
"Any complaints?"
"Erm, I'd like that whole stare down thing to go away."
"Okay," Sirius laughed. "I'll work on that."
Growing more alert by the second, Harry boosted himself up on an elbow. "Do I look older?"
"Completely," Sirius teased, "you'll be mistaken for Dumbledore's double any day now."
"Good deal," Harry agreed.
"So, want to know what I think?"
Harry nodded, settling back down.
"I think you're an awesome kid and the best friend a guy could have."
"Right back at ya," Harry managed around a yawn.
Sirius pulled the blankets up over them before taking a deep breath and saying, "And it's hard to believe that this very minute, many moons ago that your mum was in the same position—"
"Oh no," Harry moaned, burying his head into Sirius's side, "here we go."
"—while Moony was outside calmly sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits and I was steadily wearing away the waiting room's tile floor. But we could both hear Lily shouting and swearing like a sailor—"
"On leave," Harry added.
"That's right, and while some have called it the most meaningful experience of their lives, she compared it more to doing the splits on a bed of hot coals."
Harry giggled despite himself. "I wonder if the Windsors ever do this."
"That would be bloody frightening," Sirius said with a laugh. "Now back to the story, I was getting to the ice chips bit, right?"
"I love you, Siri," Harry mumbled, giving into sleep.
"Love you too, pup, always," whispered Sirius. "So, about those ice chips . . ."
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Harry slipped into the Ministry Café later that morning, glancing to and fro. Only patrons were two warlocks from the eleventh floor hunched over a single steaming cauldron. Behind the counter through, Sue was battling with a toaster.
"Hey Sue!" he called, climbing up on a bar stool.
"Hey Leo," she said, digging her wand deeper into one of the metal slits. "Your father needs coffee?"
"Only with his oxygen."
"There's some on the table by the window."
Harry frowned. "But . . ."
"Trust me; now go over to the table."
Harry turned, glancing over his shoulder. Not only was there a steaming thermos of coffee on the table but also a small coffee cake and two balloons with "Happy Birthday Leo!" written on them.
"Thanks Sue!" he chirped, slipping off of the stool.
"Anytime, munchkin," Sue smiled.
Harry took the thermos, balancing it in the crook of his arm, and gathered up the balloons and cake before grinning to Sue and heading very carefully to the elevator.
"Leo? Leo Black?" growled one of the warlocks as Harry passed.
"Yes?" he called back.
"Stop. Turn." The warlock looked through a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles at the boy. "Orion told me you were small. Clearly, he was making an understatement."
"He did? He was?" replied the boy, feeling his glasses slip down his nose.
"Yes, I suppose I will see if you gain any height by this evening."
Frowning again, Harry just nodded and continued on towards the elevator. While he waited, he could not help but glance back at the warlocks. Were the Weasley twins right about Orion? "Just think about ice cream," he muttered as the grate opened.
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At precisely five after six that evening, Sirius and Harry were escorted into the oversized candelabra formally known as Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. There were tapers and silver decorations everywhere. House-elves were dashing about, fulfilling Orion's every whim as the man stood in the middle of the drawing room already wearing his best dress robes, black with silver accents that depicted the Black crest on his right breast pocket.
"You're late," said Orion, not looking at them but at the elf that was arranging two candlesticks on the mantle. "They should be exactly six inches apart!" he barked. "Be sure you're measuring!"
The poor house-elf was quivering in fear.
"The house looks great, Orion," Sirius said loudly, trying get his father's attention.
"It does?" Orion sounded skeptical.
"Yes," agreed Harry.
"Really sensational," Sirius insisted.
Orion's eyes trailed on them. "What are you wearing?"
"The robes you bought us," said Sirius truthfully. They were wearing the green robes Orion had purchased but the Auror had done a few alterations so they looked less like they had come out of the eighteenth century.
"I thought there were more to them," Orion muttered.
"Did I mention how great the place looks," Sirius grinned. "Especially the candles, six inches apart eh?"
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A little less than an hour later, the house has positively packed with wizards and witches of venerable breeding and great renown. All were dressed immaculately and Harry highly suspected that if one was to lump together all jewelry that the witches were wearing it would be worth more than the entire property value of Dale.
Orion seemed to be in his element, engaging in conversation with each person. Though he always seemed to be surrounded by people, he moved from guest to guest, group to group with the greatest of ease.
Harry wished he had been gifted with that same ability as he seemed to always be stumbling into someone or was mistaken for a house-elf. He had gotten separated from Sirius somehow and was now trying to find him, blast his godfather's tendency to wander. For what felt like the hundredth time, he apologized for having trod on a person's foot and explained how he was Leo, Sirius's son.
"So that's the boy," whispered the wizard to another. "I see why Orion hid him for so long. He's as warped as his father."
Harry stopped dead. He intended to give the wizard a piece of his mind when his ears picked up another conversation between two witches.
"So that is Sirius's son?" said one with a particularly upturned nose. "Obviously the boy took after whatever whore he impregnated. Pity, Sirius was always so handsome."
"Yes, but did you really expect anything else?" said her friend. "He was also always so queer. Walburga always lamented how he was obsessed with the Muggle world. Poor dear, could you just imagine?"
"I heard he lives in a Muggle town," hissed a hunchbacked old crone who had shuffled up beside the witches. She had a glittering tiara in her mess of unkempt white curls. "Quite the disgrace, he is. During the war, he ran with Dumbledore and his band misfits that preached integration."
Harry pressed on, hoping to see someone he knew. After all, there was bound to be a Ministry official here somewhere.
Just as he turned, a great mass stepped in front of him. Harry craned his neck back to look into the beetle black eyes of a hulking man with wiry hair that had been tied back.
"So you're the Black heir?" he growled through yellowing teeth.
"I'm Leo," Harry said. "Who are you?"
"My friends call me Macnair," said the man. "I hear tell that your da' is big pals with a flea bag, is that true?"
"I don't think it's any of your business," said Harry brashly.
Macnair chuckled. "It is, Mudblood. I know Sirius from way back, and I know the kinds of people he used to be seen with. You're no big surprise, what you are. Black blood mixed with sewage is enough to make even me sick." Macnair pulled back his sleeve to reveal rotting flesh and a massive chunk of flesh missing from his arm. "And not many things do."
Harry swallowed hard.
"Tell your da's friend to be careful or he might find himself fixed . . . permanently," jeered Macnair.
Harry backed way, disappearing into the crowd as Macnair threw his head back and laughed. But as he tried to navigate his way through the throng, whispers could be heard all around him.
"That's Sirius's son, the filthy blood traitor!"
"He turned his back on his own family to run off with Potter and his slut."
"They say Black's some big war hero but I never believed it."
"He clearly won a war, and that brat is his medal."
"Dear god, if Orion had any sense he would have disposed of them."
"Walburga blasted him off of the tree. Not enough if you ask me."
"He ran away at sixteen, don't you know? According to Narcissa, he lived in London. He was a breath away from starvation until some relative stepped in."
"Pity about that. We'd be better off without him."
"That's Sirius's son? That pathetic little toerag?! Probably as soft in the head as his old man, Muggle-loving fool if there ever was one."
"The Blacks used to be such a fine family and now look what Orion has left? A traitorous son and his Mudblood son."
"Regulus told me about his brother once. He said he was nothing but a soft hearted fool who spent all his time with a Mudblood and a Potter."
"Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting!"
"If you ask me, Regulus should have lived."
"Stop," Harry hissed, tripping over someone's cloak and falling forward, effectively if not embarrassingly freeing himself from the mass.
Shoving himself to his feet, relief spread through Harry as he finally spotted Sirius only a few feet away. He was trying very hard to edge away from a silver-haired witch. As he approached, he could make out bits of their conversation.
"I really do want to grow," said the witch, snapping her fingers. A house-elf appeared at her side with a fresh martini. "I'm trying to better myself by being more sensitive."
"A noble goal," said Sirius, his gaze falling to the trembling house-elf.
"So, what is the infamous Sirius Black up to these days? Are you still an Auror?"
"Yes but there's nothing really to tell," said Sirius honestly.
"You're not married?" asked the witch, a tad too hopeful.
Sirius barked out a laugh. "No, it's just Leo and I."
"Leo? Your house-elf?"
"My kid," he corrected. "Speaking of whom, excuse me." He walked away from her as fast as was seemly. "Thank you," he whispered, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders.
"Anytime," the boy smiled. "Poor house-elf though."
"Yeah, well, not all of them are as unpleasant as Kreacher."
"Is that Sirius Black?" came a booming voice behind them.
Sirius froze. The color drained from his face and his hand dug into Harry's shoulder.
Harry twisted his head in time to see a very short, very rotund man with a large walrus-like mustache waddling towards them. He was wearing lurid lilac robes and matching pillbox hat with a tassel that swung wildly about.
"Oho!" said the man, his pudgy face breaking into a wide grin. "It is you!"
"Hello Professor," said Sirius, forcing a smile. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"
"Awhile?" crowed the Professor, holding out a slightly sugar-dusted hand to Sirius. "It's been years, m'boy! Ten if memory serves me right."
"It always has," said Sirius in a somewhat pained voice. He shook the man's hand but before he could free himself the Professor clutched it with his other.
"I've heard you've made quite a name for yourself in the Auror Department: a First-Class Agent at twenty-five, the youngest Trainer ever certified, Alastor Moody's protégé," said the Professor, his gooseberry eyes gleaming with every word. "None of it surprised me, of course. You were always a brilliant student and, if I do say so myself, a truly remarkable duelist. Certainly one of the best I've ever seen and I have seen many."
"Thank you," said Sirius in the same voice as before.
"I've always regretted not having you in my house, you know. Talent such as yours . . ."
"Well, your excellent Potions lessons were always an asset."
The Professor nodded self-indulgently. As he did so, he noticed Harry who had tried to duck behind Sirius.
"And who do we have here?" he asked, his eyes growing even brighter.
"Oh," said Sirius slowly, nodding for Harry to come forward. "This is my son, Leo."
"Your son?" the Professor half-bounced in place.
"Yes," Sirius turned to Harry. "Leo, this is my former Potions professor, Horace Slughorn."
"Nice to meet you," said Harry shyly. He had learned long ago that men like Slughorn were not as interested in children if they appeared too quiet.
Slughorn's eyes roved up and down Harry's slight body. "My," said Slughorn, "he does have that same spark, doesn't he?"
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, he does," declared Slughorn. "The same spark as you, Sirius, that flare of intelligence and confidence. I believe this boy will do great things. How could he not though? Being your son."
Sirius felt the tips of his ears redden.
"Well, er," he fumbled, feeling Harry shift anxiously beside him. "We'll just have to wait and see, eh Leo?"
Harry nodded. "I guess."
"And modest as well," chirped Slughorn, waving a pudgy hand for a drink to come. "I'm assuming his mother was a witch of some renown as well? I couldn't possibly see you with a common Muggle-born, Sirius. Not enough drama as you children say."
The temper that had been simmering all evening within Harry threatened to boil over. Though every word that came out of this man's mouth did not seem to be outright vicious, they still felt that way.
"Ah, there you two are!" came Orion's strong voice as he cut through the crowd. "If you would excuse Leo, Horace," he said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder once he reached the three of them and guiding the boy away.
"Not at all, not at all," said Slughorn, his eyes fixed on Sirius. "Your son and I were just chatting about his career advancement opportunities. He still has wonderful potential despite the obvious obstacles."
It took an extraordinary amount of willpower for Sirius not to roll his eyes.
"Fantastic," said Orion blandly over his shoulder.
"Thank you," whispered Harry as soon as they were a good distance from Slughorn. "He was being so—"
"Complimentary," supplied Orion with a superior shake of his head. "Horace Slughorn is a fine man, Leo. Very well connected and influential . . . in his own particular way. If he's taken a notice in you, I suggest you be grateful and do not brush his opinions aside as your father has done on numerous occasions."
Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought of sucking up to that overgrown walrus.
"But," he tried.
Orion held up a hand to silence him.
"Seeing as it is going on nine, Leo," he began in the same overly cultured voice he had been using all evening, "I think it would be best if you gave a little speech to your guests."
"S-speech?" stuttered Harry, his throat running dry. "To t-these people?"
"No to the house elves," sighed Orion. "Of course to these people, Leo. Honestly, sometimes I wonder where your head is."
"But I can't do that!"
"Of course you can. All it is a quick thank you and some words of appreciation for everyone coming this long way."
Harry shook his head. "I can't."
"And why not?" demanded Orion.
"I never wanted them to come. All they've done all night is gossip about Sirius and say how he's a disgrace and how I'm a mongrel or a filthy half-breed! They're all awful."
"How dare you," growled Orion. "These people are among the most—"
"Self-absorbed, judgmental old cows I've ever met," snapped Harry as the air around him began to crackle with magic. Wine glasses began to float away from their drinkers.
"Leo!" Orion shouted as the entire room grew still and focused upon them.
"No!" said Harry, his temper finally winning out. "Why did you even invite them? To show me off like I'm some sort of trophy?! An heir that could still be . . . I dunno . . . groomed to perfection? No thanks! I understand why Sirius ran away. I would have too."
With that, Harry spun on a heel and bolted away amid the shattering of glassware.
No one made a sound for a good thirty seconds. All eyes were on Orion whose face had grown dark. Sirius bravely went forward.
"Orion, I'm sor—"
"Silence!" snarled his father.
Sirius obeyed, backing away half a step.
"I suppose you are pretty proud of yourself," sneered Orion. "That boy is as rude and ungrateful as you are, Sirius, and neither of you will ever change."
Orion walked away from him, leaving his son to look for Harry.
8888
Sirius's search led him to the very top floor of the house and a door that had been left ajar.
"Harry?" he called, knocking.
"In here," came his godson's muffled reply.
Sirius let himself in, his eyes falling on the old familiar sight of his childhood room. The now dust-coated Gryffindor banners and photographs were still stuck to closely together that there was barely an inch of actual wall space visible. He remembered just how desperately he wanted to prove that he was not like his parents or his sycophantic brother. There were Muggle books and knickknacks scattered about the place including motorcycle manuals and ballpoint pens. These were nothing though, he thought wryly, compared to the rest of his 'collection.'
At the moment, Harry was sitting on Sirius's bed leaning back against the headboard with his knees drawn to his chest. His jaw was set, his expression a mixture of confusion, anger, and total frustration. Sirius was deeply reminded of an eight year old version of himself.
"Wow," he began, "time has stood still in this room . . . thanks to Permanent Sticking Charms."
"I now know what it's like to have grown up this place," said Harry.
"Oh no you don't," said Sirius, sitting down across from him. "You won't know until you're huddled in a corner and rocking back and forth like a heroin addict."
"Like a what?"
"Never mind," said Sirius. "So what happened down there, short stack? Aside from a nice display of magic, it was pretty Freaky Friday, don't you think?"
"A little," Harry confessed. "I didn't mean to yell. I just got so mad. Everyone had been saying how awful we were and how you're a failure just because you ran away and . . ."
"How you're nothing but a mistake that should have been erased?" Sirius offered; his voice soft and kind.
Harry nodded.
"I've heard that before."
"About me?"
"No," said Sirius bitterly. "About me."
"What?!"
His godfather nodded. "But they're wrong."
The boy made to nod again but stopped halfway through. "Siri," he whispered, "how do we know that? They all seem to think—"
Sirius shook his head, easing himself back so he and Harry were sitting beside each other.
"You spoke a great deal of truth about those people downstairs during your rant," he said. "They are judgmental and they are pompous idiots who have spent their whole lives trying to fulfill their relatives' expectations and maintain their family's legacy. I doubt that many of them could even imagine having to be themselves without the presence of their surnames to guide them."
"But they all think that I'm some sort of . . . obstacle. Some thing that's in your way."
Sirius smiled down at him. "First off, you are not now or have ever been any of those things I'm sure my father's delightful friends came up with. You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me."
"Really?"
"Yes," grinned Sirius briefly before sobering. "And I'm certain that they've only say things like that because they can't possibly comprehend what we are."
Harry still looked confused.
"You mentioned something about how Orion was treating you like a trophy, correct?"
"Yeah."
"You were right," said Sirius. "Children, in pureblood families, are often seen as commodities. Things created to ensure the survival of the family name and little else until they achieve some acclaim while at school or in life that can be boasted about amid brandy and cigars. Living by these parameters, I think people like Orion find it surprisingly difficult to understand how we get along so well, pup. Even in our world, we're considered to be pretty close."
"It's feels so normal though," said Harry stubbornly. "I wouldn't want it to be different. I don't get how parents can treat their kids like Orion treated you."
"Me neither," Sirius agreed half-heartedly, giving Harry the distinct impression that his godfather had dealt with more parents and their approaches than he had.
However, all this information combined with that evening's events swirled in Harry's head like a tornado. Orion was undoubtedly furious with him, all the people downstairs most likely had their beliefs confirmed about him, and if he was probably in far more trouble than he had ever feared to be. Orion was certainly not the "forgive and forget" type. So far eight was proving to be a very complicated year.
Heaving a sigh, Harry leaned his head against his godfather's chest. Somewhere deep inside a wave of warmth washed over him as Sirius put an arm around his shoulders, and he was safe. As long as he had Sirius, he knew things would be okay.
Sirius looked down at Harry who was leaning his head against his chest. His eyes were closed, taking in the peace that currently surrounded them. Sirius put an arm around his godson, letting the boy relax. It still marveled Sirius how much his mere presence reassured Harry.
At least someone can be calm in this place, he thought wryly. He glanced around the room again as long buried memories began to spurt forth in his mind like poisonous daisies after a long winter. In the far corner, he could remember crouching there, hands clapped over his ears while his parents raged downstairs. They fought like vipers on most days, usually about him, his "abnormal tendencies," and whose fault they were. His eyes traveled to his bookcase that now had only about ten volumes left on it. He did not doubt that his mother had personally destroyed all his Muggle books and whatever other gadgets had been left around the room.
Directly across from him there was a crack in the wall that was half-hidden by a Gryffindor banner. Sirius closed his eyes and his father's voice filled his head.
"What is the matter with you?" shouted Orion, seizing his eleven year son by the shoulders and lifting him off of the floor until they were on eye level. "Who is that girl?"
Sirius stared, his eyes wide.
"Answer me!"
"A friend from school . . . I was just saying hello," said Sirius, his voice cracking.
"They're filth!" snarled his father, shaking him so hard he swore he felt his brain bouncing loose. "How stupid are you, Sirius? How many times do I have to tell you that Muggles are dangerous? They're low, foul creatures. They're dangerous, parasitic leviathans! You must never speak to them again!"
"But Father, if you just—"
"No," said Orion. "Let's see if this makes a dent in that thick head of yours."
The next thing Sirius felt was a paralyzing bolt of pain and then darkness.
"Siri?"
Harry's whisper pulled his godfather back to the present.
"Yes, pup?"
"Don't you think we should be getting back downstairs?"
Sirius shook his head.
"Give Orion some time," he said. "He'll find us."
As the words left his mouth, footsteps could be heard outside the door. A second later, it was banged open and Orion stormed inside.
"There you two are," he said, contemptuously. "You're both making a very poor impression, and I suggest you return to the drawing room before you thoroughly embarrass yourselves."
Sirius and Harry slowly rose from their positions and went downstairs.
8888
By the time the grandfather clock had struck half past eleven the last guest had been bayed farewell and Kreacher had begun the arduous task of tidying up.
"Sirius," Orion called, his voice still saturated with disdain, "do not forget these." He handed his son a small money bag.
Sirius took it from him and lurched forward.
"What the heck?"
"It's magically enlarged. Each guest brought a little something."
"Nice," said Sirius appreciatively.
"It was only polite," said Orion haughtily.
"Well, yes . . ."
"Er, Siri?" asked Harry, stepping forward. "Could I speak to Orion alone for a minute?"
"Sure," Sirius said. "I'll go put this bag in a safe place. Wonder if my wallet's large enough," he muttered, turning a corner.
Harry laughed softly before looking to Orion who was not amused.
"You wished to speak with me?"
"Yes," began Harry carefully, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for acting like I did earlier. I was just a little overwhelmed, I guess. But I know you must have put a lot of thought and planning into tonight, and I really do appreciate it."
Orion's expression remained stony.
"And if it makes up for anything, I was wondering if you would like to come to our house tomorrow night," offered Harry. "Sirius has this whole thing planned and . . . well, it won't be as grand as this but it will be fun . . . all of our friends will be there and if would be great if you could come," he finished hopefully.
The man stared down at him, considering the offer. Eventually, Orion replied, "I do not think that will be possible, Harry."
"Oh," the boy said. "Okay."
"I shall see you next Friday then. Good evening."
Orion turned his back to Harry and went on to observe Kreacher's progress.
"Thank you," said Harry, downcast. He walked out of the room, past Sirius who was standing at the threshold.
"Go out to the car," he whispered. "I'll be there in a sec."
Once Harry had gone, Sirius went about taking matters into his own hands.
"Orion," he said firmly. "What was that about?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. Harry was trying to apologize and you just blew him off."
Orion huffed. "I did not just blow him off as you say. I accepted his words and told him that I was busy tomorrow evening."
"Doing what?"
"That is none of your business, Sirius."
"If it's affecting my kid then I make it my business."
Orion let out a snort of aggravation. "What do you want me to say? That I was not absolutely humiliated tonight? That a few words will make up for what that boy has done to my reputation? Your reputation?"
"He's eight, Orion," sighed Sirius. "He's a child. Children make mistakes. They lose their tempers. At least he asked you personally for your forgiveness. That could not have been easy for him."
"Fine, if you want me to say that all is forgiven then it is. Good evening."
"No," said Sirius stepping in front of Orion and drawing himself up to full height. He was a couple inches taller than his father. "We are not finished here. Just saying all is forgiven won't work. Harry won't believe you unless you prove it. Actions speak louder than words, Orion."
Orion glowered at his son. "Clearly, but as I have told you numerous times not all of us are as noble as you. Not all of us bend over backwards to make amends with people who have wronged us. Half the things you do, you do only to please others. I've noticed that you've bestowed that trait upon the boy and it makes me wonder what else he has picked up from you. Besides that temper of his, of course."
"You've never understood why I act the way I do, and you obviously don't see why I'm glad Harry does the same," Sirius snapped.
"You're not such a mystery to me, Sirius! You're pathetically predictable."
"Then I suppose you know what I'm going to say now," fumed Sirius, crossing his arms over his chest.
"That you give up?" mused Orion. "That you regretted coming here?"
"Right as always, Father," seethed Sirius.
Orion's gaze became steely. "If I had a Knut for every time you gave up—"
"Then you could have paid to dispose of us." With that Sirius turned and stormed out of the house.
8888
The next morning, a pajama clad Sirius stumbled into the kitchen and immediately seized the offered cup of coffee.
"Hang over?" guessed Remus who had arrived about fifteen minutes ago only to find the house dead silent. He was dressed in a pair of non-distressed jeans and a gray t-shirt which was considered elegant attire for Sirius's idea of a party. He had already set out large colorful bowls and balloons to be blown up.
"Orion," Sirius corrected, sitting down and massaging his temples with his free hand.
"My mistake," Remus said kindly. "I've got some eggs going if that's help."
"Therapy will help," Sirius grumbled, "but eggs are a decent start."
Remus turned his back to Sirius as the door across the room opened and a still sleepy Harry came into the room. Hair sticking up in every direction and eyes puffy, it seemed as though Harry had not had a very peaceful night either.
The boy immediately went over to his godfather and leaned his forehead against Sirius's shoulder.
"You were making noise," muttered the boy. "It's too early to be up."
"Getting old are we, Harry?" Remus teased.
Harry mumbled something that made Sirius chuckle before his godfather replied, "Keep in mind that he did get his first taste of a proper Wizarding soirée last evening."
"So you're the one with the hang over?"
Harry groaned, flopping into a chair.
"I'd say so," agreed Sirius, leaning his chair back on its two rear legs.
"Give me five minutes," muttered Harry, resting his arms on the table and burying his head in them, "and I'll be ready to help."
"Help?" Sirius laughed. "It's your party, kid. You're supposed to sit back and mock the rest of us, have I taught you nothing?"
"Yes," said Harry and Remus in unison.
"With friends like you two, I don't need enemies," smirked Sirius, letting his chair fall level.
8888
By that evening 204 Barret Court had been transformed. Streamers and balloons decorated the living room and the corridors. Music blasted out of a pair of speakers. Children raced through the house as their parents and other adults chatted about, making unsuccessful attempts to help Sirius who actually had things quite under control.
"Oy, Sirius," called Charlie who had long accepted Sirius's need to do all his own hosting duties. "Drinks could use some freshening."
"Scotch and soda?" asked Sirius as he flipped a rocks glass over his shoulder from behind and caught it with the opposite hand.
"Aye, Master Bartender," Charlie chuckled as Sirius preformed the same trick with the Scotch bottle.
"Don't be a show-off," admonished Andromeda. She looked quite the Muggle in her jeans and white polo shirt.
"Hey, this is my one true calling," grinned Sirius, handing Charlie his drink. "Oh, and if you even begin to hum "I Did it My Way," you're being cut off."
"I still maintain that I did not break into song at the Christmas party," said Charlie stubbornly.
"You didn't," said Sirius, handing Andromeda a glass of white wine. "You broke into a whole song and dance routine."
"I did not!"
Sirius quirked an eyebrow.
"Why do you always have to be right?" muttered Charlie.
"Because he's an insufferable know-it-all," said a teenage girl with electric green hair and a wide smile. "Imagine having him tutor you for your O. W. L.s. I never want to hear about Goblin rebellions again."
"Poor Nymphadora," said Charlie.
"It's Tonks," corrected Nymphadora.
"You'll thank me when you get your marks back," replied Sirius, sliding Tonks a pink drink in a frosted glass despite Andromeda's warning look. "It's virgin, trust me."
Tonks sighed appropriately but caught Sirius winking at her. She began to sip the drink with greater interest.
"Padfoot!" shouted Remus from across the room as his path was cut off by three children bolting past him. "Ack! What do their parents feed them? Pure sugar?" he asked, finally reaching them.
Sirius shook his head. "Haven't a clue."
"Do you want me to take care of dessert and you can . . .," Remus trailed off meaningfully.
"Yeah, Andy do you mind getting Ted over here to mind the drinks and Charlie?" asked Sirius.
"Sure," said his cousin as Sirius went off in search of his godson.
"Harry?" Sirius called, finally finding him with a group of neighboring boys in a corner of the living room, plotting something that involved whipped cream canister. "Can you come with me for a second?"
The boy nodded, promising his friends that he'd be right back before following his godfather upstairs to Sirius's room.
"I have something for you," Sirius said slowly, "but I didn't think many of our guests would understand what it really is so I decided to save it."
"What is it?" Harry asked as Sirius turned on the lights. A long thin colorfully wrapped package was on the unmade bed.
"Go on," Sirius gave him a little nudge. Harry approached it slowly, not sure what it would be. He pulled off the wrapping with more care than one would expect of an eight-year old. Sirius watched as realization crept onto Harry's face. The boy pulled up the lid of the box and his mouth dropped as a gleaming new broom hovered inches above the cardboard.
Harry touched the highly polished wood, half-expecting it to vanish, but it felt warm and real beneath his fingertips.
"Like it?" Sirius asked despite knowing the answer.
Harry spun around and jumped into his arms. "Ohmygod, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou," he cried in a single breath. "How did you . . . ? It's . . . it's so expensive!"
"Yeah, that's what I told the guy," Sirius joked, hugging his pup. "I'm glad you like it."
"Thank you!" Harry shouted again into his godfather's ear.
"You are very welcome," Sirius said, grinning. "But I think that our guests may be missing us."
"Okay," Harry agreed. "Can I just look at it one more time though?"
"Go on." Sirius let him down and the boy immediately went back to the bed to examine the broom from tail to tip.
8888
By the time the two of them returned downstairs, Sirius and Harry walked into a completely dark room save for the flickering birthday candles. The room immediately burst out into song. Harry and Sirius picked their way over to the coffee table where the cake had been placed. Harry laughed, getting a good look at the cake; somehow Andromeda had managed to draw his own face on the cake using icing.
"Make a wish," goaded the crowd as the singing trailed off.
Harry thought for a moment before closing his eyes and blowing out the candles. When he opened his eyes again the lights had come back on, and Sirius was calling for attention.
"Attention, attention, please! Now, this is a very solemn moment so . . . two priests, a rabbi, and a duck—"
A groan rose from around the room.
"Siri," Harry grinned as godfather ruffled his hair.
"Okay, okay," Sirius sighed, picking up his cup. "A toast to the one thing in my life that is always good, always sweet, and without whom I would have no reason to get up in the morning, my pal, Harry."
There was a chorus of "Aww-s" as Sirius dropped to one knee beside Harry.
"And now," he continued, "I invite you all to help me eat his face."
"And you may have the first cut," said Andromeda, handing Harry a serving knife.
"There is something very weird about hacking into my own head," said Harry, slicing into the cake.
"As long as you bleed chocolate I can't complain," grinned Sirius, slipping a paper plate under the slices. "Here, I got that."
As they started to pass out slices, the doorbell rang and Tonks went off to answer it. Sirius overhead her tell the person that she would see.
"Sirius, there's someone here who is asking if you're in," shouted Tonks from the corridor with a roll of her eyes.
"Whoever that is, Nymph, tell them to get their arses in here," Sirius shouted back but as the words left his lips none other than pinstripe-suit clad Orion Black moved forward into the light. "Or arse I guess."
Harry rushed passed his stunned godfather to greet Orion.
"Orion!" he shouted, astonished.
"Hello Harry," said Orion, smiling. "For half a minute I thought I had the wrong house. Everything was dark."
"No, no, it's the right house," Harry said enthusiastically. "Wait a sec, I'll introduce you to everybody." He led Orion into the living room. "Everyone!" he hollered. "This is Sirius's dad, Orion."
There was a chorus of jubilant "Hi-s!" and "Hello-s" as a buxom woman came up to Orion.
"Hello," she said warmly, extending a hand, "I'm Julianne Montgomery but everyone calls me Miss Julie. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Black. Sirius has positively regaled us with stories of you."
"I'm sure he has," said Orion cordially, kissing her hand.
Miss Julie gave a twitter. "We all just love your son and grandson," she gushed. "I can see where they get their dashing looks. It must be all that good air in London."
"The pleasure is all mine," replied Orion.
"Come with me, Orion," said Harry. "I'll show you around and Sir'll get you a drink."
Sirius nodded, slipping out of the room.
"Now all we need is Voldemort to waltz in and things will be perfect," he said as he entered the kitchen. Remus and Andromeda looked up from the refreshment bowls they were re-filling, aghast. "My father just came, and I've already cursed in front of him twice, and Miss Julie is trying to chat him up as we speak."
Remus grinned, "And how's Harry taking it?"
"He's thrilled," Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Well, then, why are you worried?" asked Andromeda, handing Sirius a filled bowl.
"I guess I shouldn't be, but he's never been here before."
"Never?" she asked, astonished.
Sirius shook his head. "Until two weeks ago, we barely saw each other. Once or twice he came to the Ministry when Harry was a baby, but after that we always went to Grimmauld Place."
"Oh no," she said.
"Oh yes," said Sirius, picking up one of the filled bowls. "And I totally forgot to ask him what he wanted to drink."
"You best get back out there then," said Remus with a slightly devious look in his eyes, "before you end up with a new stepmother."
"Right," sighed Sirius, picking up the bowls. "I'll be back."
After he exited, Andromeda turned to Remus, "Orion Black is in Dale. The police should be advised."
"Honestly, Harry seems to like the man well enough, so he can't be all that bad," said Remus as he filled another bowl. To Andromeda's questioning look, he said lightly, "No good comes from passing judgment on someone one hasn't met." He made to follow Sirius with his bowl.
"Wait," Andromeda said, stopping Remus. "Give them twenty seconds and he'll find the alcohol. Personally, I've seen enough of Orion Black to last a lifetime." She winked, taking the bowl from him and leaving the kitchen.
Less than a moment later, Remus heard: "Come on, Orion, you're going to need a drink and I have glasses that say "Hostel and Co." on them," said Sirius as he entered the kitchen, leading his father.
Remus Lupin did not consider himself to be the type of person to judge on first impressions, but the sheer waves of "class," for lack of a better term, coming from Sirius' father were rather hard to miss. He had seen the man before at a distance, of course, but only now had a name - and Sirius' long years of muttered comments - to go with the face. "Good to see you survived the attack," he offered dryly.
"Honestly, did someone let a circus troupe out in this town," sighed Orion, not actually looking at Remus.
"No, that's how we all are when there's cake," Sirius smirked. "Scotch or martini?"
Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Once upon a time, I thought only children suffered from suger highs. And you're out of the good vodka, so I would stick to Scotch." He wondered idly if he would actually have to remind Sirius that he and Orion had never been introduced.
Orion turned and looked at Remus, sizing him up briefly. His cold eyes seemed to linger on his fraying jeans cuffs and tousled hair.
"Oh, nearly forgot, Orion this is Remus Lupin, resident best friend and sommelier."
Remus smiled with the confidence of a man perfectly used to enduring far colder looks than Orion's. "A pleasure to meet you," he said automatically, extending his hand.
Orion merely nodded. "I spoke with you a few weeks ago," he said, his voice was incredibly posh."I owe you thanks for letting me know where Sirius and Harry were."
"Oh, don't mention it." Remus let his hand drop back to his side.
Orion's gaze shifted to the kitchen itself.
As his father took in his surroundings, Sirius nudged Remus, whispering, "He's inspecting my house. Help me."
Nodding, Remus quickly removed the bottle of Scotch and glasses from his friend's hands and poured one straight, while saying to Orion, "Would you like ice?"
"No thank you," Orion said, picking at one of the appetizers. "Hmm, interesting flavor. Who made these?"
"Actually, Remus did," said Sirius, handing Orion the poured glass.
Wonderful, thought Remus. He was coming across as a regular housemaid. Ah, the things he suffered for friendship. Pouring the second glass, he handed it again to Sirius and fished a third out of the cabinet for himself.
"It's amazing what kind of hidden talents are discovered at parties," he said conversationally. "I recall my grandmother was absolutely unbeatable at Go Fish once she'd had more than two shots."
"I'm going to need more than that to get through this evening," muttered Orion as he picked up a bottle opener that played "God Save the Queen."
Sirius and Remus simultaneously knocked back their glasses.
"Are you three playing a drinking game?" asked Harry, coming into the kitchen. "Cause if you aren't, could you help me? Passing at cake is a little difficult with short arms."
Remus caught Sirius' eye and not for the first time thanked their well-learned silent communication. Do you need a break or should I leave you two alone?
Sirius nodded. Come with me.
"You need help?" said Sirius to Harry. "A big strong eight year old like you?"
"It takes awhile to kick in," said Harry. "Come on, be a good host, Siri."
"Sounds like a difficult crisis, Sirius," Remus joked. "I hope our combined strength can handle such a cake. Excuse us, please, Orion," he added, moving to join Harry in leaving the kitchen.
"I'll join you," he said, pouring another glass and following them.
Orion secured a spot in an armchair as Sirius and Harry finished handing out slices of cake and re-filling drinks.
"Sirius," said one the neighbors Orion had yet to be introduced to. "Remember the time Harry decided that my old tree stump was a fairy ring?"
Harry instantly turned scarlet while Sirius laughed.
"Who is that?" whispered Orion to Remus.
"Kathleen Herman," Remus dropped his voice almost painfully low to murmur, "Muggle," and then added in a normal whisper, "She lives next door; her husband's in the service overseas, poor dear, so she lives practically alone with her terriers."
"Ah," said Orion shorted, sitting back.
"It matched the picture in the book," tried Harry, flopping down on the sofa.
"You did sit in front of that thing for hours waiting for something to happen," Sirius pointed out.
"It did. Duff and Gidget decided they wanted to play," said Harry, "and I had to chase them all around the garden to get my book back."
There was a round of laughter.
"Please, I'm still crushed that he never took any interest in the piano, Sirius," said Miss Julie.
"Not me," said Sirius. "Mr. Perfect Work Ethic would have been pounding the keys twenty-four seven if he did."
Remus laughed. "Sirius, you only lack respect for a good work ethic because you never found the need to develop one." He grinned, "Mostly because you copied all my notes."
"Hey I resent that!" Sirius replied. "Only in Arith--Advanced Calculus did I copy, and I really should haven never taken that class as it was."
Orion watched Sirius and his friends banter, frowning to himself. Admittedly, this party could not hold the slightest flame to the grandeur of the previous night but it seemed to be more "fun." Out of the corner of his eye, two boys rushed into the room, calling for Harry to follow them. The boy bolted after his friends, leaving the adults to talk amongst themselves.
"Do they do that often?" Orion asked to no one in particular while Remus and Sirius broke into a well-meaning banter.
"Oh? And what about Astronomy? Or Biology?" Remus didn't mention that the latter had involved notes not taken in any class, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to banter.
"I had the flu that week and you know it," countered Sirius. "Not to mention the only way you got through Chemistry is because I took pity and tutored you."
Remus grinned. "I'm sure it was a terrible ordeal," he sighed dramatically.
"Well, your beaker did blow up in my face about twelve times."
"And as a result you came up with several different brilliant pranks, I recall."
"Yes, and then we both ended up in detention," said Sirius as out of the corner of his eye he noticed Orion sneaking upstairs. "What the?" he whispered.
Remus followed Sirius' line of sight. "Oh dear. Shall I?" He set his cake down and crept quietly after the older Black. Once he reached the landing he turned to and fro, trying to locate the elder Black.
"Are you following me?" asked Orion seeming to materialize out of thin air.
Remus turned smoothly to face him. "I was concerned you were bored with the festivities."
"No, I was simply curious about where my son lives," said Orion stiffly. "In case you are unaware I have never been to this . . .," he seemed to struggle with the word, "house before."
Remus' smile froze just slightly. "I would think it's rather impressive how Sirius has managed with a house and job while raising Harry on his own."
"It's small," said Orion coolly. "And rather mismatched."
"It's comfortable," Remus countered. "And it's his home, and Harry's, too."
"Exactly how long have you known my son?" asked Orion sharply, crossing his arms over his chest.
Remus blinked. "We went to school together," he replied honestly, not sure why Orion would be interested.
Orion nodded, taking a step forward. "And did he manage all of this? The Sirius I knew could barely remember to feed an owl let alone a child."
Remus' eyes narrowed slightly. "I remember that boy as well, and with great fondness. But Sirius has had many opportunities to mature since then, as you would know if you'd cared to notice."
"He kept me out of his life as much as possible for the past decade," sneered Orion. "I did not even know Sirius was caring for the boy until I happened upon them at the Ministry once. Let me just say that seeing my twenty-one year old son with an infant in his arms was not exactly a warm moment for me."
"Perhaps he kept you out of his life because you give him no reason to believe that you would do anything more than sneer at his failures," Remus replied softly. "Now you both have a chance to start again. Fulfilling his expectations might not be particularly helpful."
"Oh yes, still he's always done a splendid job of fulfilling mine. Now, you seem like a reasonable man, Lupin, but you know as well as I do that my son is not what one would call responsible or sensible. I'm sure he only got to where he is now on luck and charm."
"And I assure you, sir, that Sirius is one of the most responsible people I have the pleasure to know. I would trust him with my life, and more importantly, I trust him with Harry's." He paused, and then continued with as much honesty and confidence as he could summon in his tone, "I have personally watched your son change from a wayward student to an extraordinary and strong man. If I didn't have complete faith in Sirius' abilities - as a father, if nothing else - then I would never have allowed him to assume that responsibility."
Orion was silent for a moment, contemplating Remus. "You seem to have more faith in my son than he does himself," said Orion carefully, "in certain aspects of his life at least. You all seem to have forgotten whose Harry's real father and family is. Do you honestly think he can care for this boy when the truth finally is revealed?"
"James -" Remus paused, but only for a moment. Time could never heal that wound. "I know that Harry's parents would be proud. Harry is already an extremely bright and mature boy. I don't know what special future is in store for him, but Sirius has proven amazingly capable at handling surprising situations. And he is not alone - he has friends among the wizarding community, and allies. All I know is that he'll throw everything he has on the line for that boy, which is more than can be said of most parents."
Orion nodded. "If that is how you see things then I most likely have no chance of dissuading you. However, it is your choice when the time comes and we will all see who you stand with. Dumbledore once told me his own confidence in Sirius was unsteady at best. You owe Dumbledore a lot, I trust, being what you are. So we shall see."
With that Orion backed away into the room behind him, Sirius's.
Remus stared after him, wondering if he should follow, wondering how in hell Orion had known his secret, or Dumbledore's opinion of anything. "Well, I suppose I've made enough brilliant inlays for one evening," he mumbled miserably.
"Remus?" said Sirius, coming up behind him. "Have you been up here all this time?"
Remus' shoulders sagged. "Unfortunately," he murmured, turning around, eyes downcast. "I should be grateful at least that he already knew what I am, and thus likely had no respect for me that I may have just lost."
"Ah," said Sirius understandingly, "well, join the club. Where is he now?"
"In your room." Remus moved out of the way.
"Rats," said Sirius, snapping his fingers. "I knew I should have vacuumed in there. Okay, I'll deal with Orion; you make sure the food fight doesn't start without me. Mud wrestling is okay though."
Remus nodded. "Good luck, mate," he said before heading back downstairs.
8888
By Orion's standards it was small and messy. Though, he supposed, with the rest of the house being cleaned Sirius had not expected anyone to wander into his room. Clothes had been tossed over the squashy armchair in the corner and the bedclothes and cover were fairly rumbled. Beneath the window was a small dresser with an assortment of things strewn across it. Magazines, rolls of parchment, cups filled with Muggle writing devices, and the like.
Shaking his head, Orion turned his gaze back toward the bed and noticed something sticking out from amongst the folds of covers. Curious, he moved forward and extracted what turned out to be a worn brown leather bound book. The binding was cracked from use. He opened it and his son's handwriting greeted him. In carefully scripted letters, a single line had been written across the first page:
"Life is just what happens to you while you're making other plans." – Lennon
He turned the page to find the smiling faces of his son, a younger Lupin, a watery-eyed boy, Potter, and a red headed girl with Harry's eyes staring up at him. They stood together in a huddle, in mid-laughter, stationary. He examined the picture closely for a moment before realizing it was taken at their Hogwarts graduation. Orion felt his spirit drop a little despite himself, and quickly flipped the pages a bit before any more emotion could be mustered. The one he stopped at did not help matters much.
In the lower right hand corner, developed on black and white film, was an image that was much like the one at the Ministry that had made his heart nearly stop seven years ago. The lens had been positioned over his shoulder but the subjects were paying it no attention whatsoever. In the foreground was a younger Sirius. His hair was wilder but there were deep circles under his dark eyes. Clearly he had not slept well in weeks or eaten properly for—since Sirius was not wearing a shirt—one could see that his collar bone and shoulder joints were clearly visible. Yet, there was no denying that with the slight smile on his face, Sirius seemed at peace as he looked down at the small blanket-wrapped form that was resting its head against his chest. The thatch of jet black hair was unmistakable.
As Orion peered closer, the photographic child raised its head from its spot and met his eyes. It yawned, burying its head back into its godfather's chest. Sirius's photographic self turned and noticed Orion. His eyes narrowed as he drew Harry closer to him. The infant shifted his head and drew Sirius's attention back to him, causing a smile to return and the photograph to become stationary again. It was only then did Orion notice that curled around the photograph, in an exceptionally neat hand, were the words: "When day is done and night is near."
Orion tore his eyes away from the image, and turned the page. More photographs met his eyes along with words that had been scribbled in the margins in both Harry and Sirius's handwriting: song lyrics, movie quotes, funny expressions, and even bits of conversation. He became so absorbed in the stationary pictures and the commentary that he did not notice his son come into the bedroom.
"You're looking through our photo album," Sirius stated as he leaned against the door frame.
Orion looked up and whirled around to face him. "It was on top of your bed," he replied as if that was the equivalent to an invitation.
"I suppose," said Sirius, attempting to make the bed. "So what do you think?"
"What do I think of what?"
"Of the photographs, Father," Sirius sighed. "And don't say you haven't got one because I know you and you have an opinion about everything."
"I do not—"
"You once grumbled about photosynthesis and how the grass was still too spring green for July."
A slight color rose in Orion's face as he turned his attention back to the book.
"It's rather sentimental," he admitted.
"Probably, but it is a photo album. It's meant to be."
"Be that as it may, couldn't you have attempted some shred of dignity by not graffiti-ing it?"
"Then that wouldn't be me, would it?"
Orion sighed in mild frustration, glancing around the room again.
"Sirius."
"Orion?"
"How did you accomplish all this?" His father gestured to the room.
Sirius shrugged. "Well, it's a combination of Pottery Barn and—"
"Sirius, don't be cheeky," said Orion shortly. "I meant this," he gestured again, "this house, this life."
Sirius was caught off guard by Orion. He had never expected his father to inquire that far into his life. However, he resisted the urge to be sarcastic and reply, "By giving lots of old crones their last moments of pleasure." Instead, he settled for the more truthful, "I'm not really sure myself. Little by little, I guess."
"And with a child? You were only twenty-one when his parents . . ."
"I know," said Sirius meaningfully. ""It was no picnic, but once I got used to the ever popular "Daddy Black" jokes, things got easier. We managed like we always seem to, though I still haven't caught up on all my sleep."
Orion turned his back to him, walking the length of the room and glancing out of the window. "You're lucky, you realize."
"I do," Sirius consented. "Very lucky."
"And I suppose that you get tired of hearing this," he said solemnly, turning back to Sirius, "but you two are exceptionally close."
Sirius grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
"When was this one taken?" Orion asked suddenly, handing the book to Sirius. In the photograph, he and Harry were stretched out on the lawn, watching the sun set.
"Oh, Harry must have been about five. Yeah, it was right after we moved here and Harry had never seen a sunset that wasn't filled with skyscrapers or aerials. I never thought a person's eyes could grow so big. It was pretty cute."
Sirius looked up, still smiling, only to see his father looking back out the window.
"Orion?"
The elder Black did not respond but continued to stare blankly onward. So this was the world that Sirius had forsaken his family and his name to be a part of? A world of strange, eccentric folk and sacrifice? Lupin had said that Sirius had become remarkably responsible, and the photographs were testament to that transformation.
"You're right," he said finally, moving towards the door.
"I was?" Sirius asked, confused.
"I do not understand you at all."
8888
With a clatter, the last stack of dirty plates was dumped into the soapy water as Sirius decided, "Next year we're just turning on the garden sprinkler and letting everyone get good and filthy. That's it."
"And then the mess won't matter as much?" asked Remus wryly, putting away the left over-s.
"And I won't have to actually clean house," said Sirius as he rolled up his sleeves and began cleaning the dishes.
"I doubt Harry'll be impressed with your lack of effort."
"Okay," said Harry, dragging a bulging trash bag into the kitchen. "Is there anyway we can work around the whole cleaning up afterwards part next year?"
"See?" said Sirius triumphantly.
"Why do I even bother? It's like betting against the United," muttered Remus. He went over and picked up the trash bag, heaving it over his shoulder. "Aren't you tired, Harry?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm alright. Besides, you need the help, don't you?"
"Actually," said Sirius through a yawn, "I think I'm just going to finish the washing and then turn in. Everything else can wait until morning."
"Really?"
"I think so," his godfather replied. "Go get ready for bed. Moony and I've got this handled."
"If you're sure," said Harry but even as he spoke he was edging towards his room.
The adults nodded and let him go, but no sooner had Sirius turned back to his task at hand did Harry call for him.
"What's up?" he asked, coming inside the room.
"Look!" Harry gasped into awe as on his desk was a glowing orb that revolved on site and threw shadow figures and glittering constellations onto the walls. "What is it?"
"There's a note beneath it," said Remus who had also come into the room.
Harry removed the slip of paper carefully at not to upset the orb. He read the long loopy writing quickly:
Harry—
By the ripe old age of eight, any true Black should know his astronomy. I believe this shall help you in that endeavor.
Happy Birthday.
-- Orion
"Isn't it brilliant?" asked Harry, handing the note to Sirius.
Sirius chuckled to himself after reading it. "Yes, I'd say so."
You may not understand us, Orion, he thought, but you're still trying and that is something.