A/N: I apologize for the lack of real action in this chapter, but there needed to be some filler between the months after the trial and the point at which the plot picks up. I tried to keep a light hand on some of the angst, but I find it impossible to believe that Sirius would just revert back to a reckless, carefree nature so easily. His story will pick up, of course, but all things come in due time.

Chapter four:

When Harry returned to school, the days seemed to drag but the months slipped by quickly. It was a weird concept of time.

Ms. Novak sent me a thick envelope of papers through owl post shortly after the new year, full of the forms I would need to secure my custody of Harry. Included in the pile of parchment was a letter from Ms. Novak, instructing me to be prepared for the possibility that this might hit the papers, and to be careful of the letters I opened from strangers. I glanced at the rubbish bin next to me, which was regularly stuffed with a mix of unopened fan and hate mail that I used as kindling in my fireplace.

As winter turned to spring, I finally grew tired of my tedious routine and decided I needed a project to distract me. I was sitting on my back porch, overlooking the wildly overgrown property I was now owner to, and made up my mind.

I would dig a garden.

Remus was all for the idea, offering to help me most days. I made sure Remus knew his help was conditional, and he would have to accept half of the garden's yield every season. Remus fought the idea, but when I made it clear I could never eat my weight in tomatoes by myself every summer, he relented.

I forced Remus to accept half of the constant "lifetime supplies" of things I had been receiving these few months, but endless butterbeer and a set of new robes did little to improve Remus's lot. He refused to accept money from me, and he equally banned me from buying him anything. I would often write made-up letters from anonymous persons, thanking Remus for "seeing the truth and fighting for Sirius Black's freedom" and stuffed deposit receipts for the money I secretly dropped in his account into the letters. I managed to convince the tenants of his parents' old house that I was the new property manager, and to come to me exclusively with any repair needs after Remus had dropped over a hundred Galleons—nearly all of his life savings—on fixing the leaky roof. A couple times I would hide a Sickle or two in the couch cushions at his house or in the pockets of old clothes. I would leave Galleons, but I thought that was too obvious.

I bought all the tools needed to dig up the land, having already marked the perimeter with Remus the day before.

"Should I burn it all first?" I asked one cool, sunny morning in March. We were standing on my porch, finishing up a morning tea before conquering the first stages of transforming my property. After the ground had warmed up, wild plants of all kind had sprung into life, tangling up in each other. "I read in Magickal Gardening that it helps fertilize the soil."

"I don't think it's going to burn that easily," said Remus, eyeing all the damp green.

"Sure it will," I said. I pointed my wand at it. "Incendio!"

The flame burst into life in the center of the planned garden, a space of several meters in all directions. We watched it for several minutes; while the fire burned bright, it didn't advance very far. I pointed my wand at it again, guiding the flames toward the thickest part of the wild vines.

We ended up having to let it slowly burn for two days, time which Remus and I passed by drinking on my back porch and coming up with ideas of what to plant. By the second week, the ground had been thoroughly tilled, and we were halfway through forming our raised beds when an owl swooped down and dropped a letter on my head.

"It's from Dumbledore," I said, pulling off my gloves to pick it up. I broke the seal, and began reading. "He wants me to come to Hogwarts," I said after a moment. I turned it over, expecting to see more there, but it was blank.

"Why's that?"

"I dunno," I said, pocketing the letter. "He didn't say."

"Think it's about Harry?" Remus asked.

I shrugged. "He wants me to come by the castle tomorrow."

Remus shrugged in response. "Dunno. It's Dumbledore. It could be anything. Hey, did you ever finish up that cauldron of fertilizer?"

"If by cauldron you mean the pot on my stove, yeah," I replied, replacing my dragonhide gloves. "It's simmering right now, so it should be ready to add as soon as we finish up here."

Remus wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. He looked around. "Think we should build a fence around all this?"

"Oh, I just figured I'd plant a row of Biting Buttercups around the perimeter."

Remus raised a disapproving eyebrow at me. "Really?"

I shrugged in response. "Well, sure. It'd keep everything away from the vegetables."

"Including you, I'll wager."

I laughed at that. "I can handle some flowers nipping my arse. It'll be the first bit of action I've seen in ages."

"And now I feel bad for the flowers, if it's your arse they're nipping."

I clod of dirt at him, hitting Remus squarely in the shoulder, before turning back to the work at hand.


I walked through the mostly empty corridors to the school the next morning. I figured it had to be a Hogsmede weekend, because I only ever saw the younger students lazing around the halls. They watched me as I passed, but I was too distracted to care.

Upon reaching the familiar gargoyle statue, I gave the password Dumbledore had written me and ascended the spiral stairs slowly. Dumbledore's office door was open, and I hesitantly knocked to get the Headmaster's attention.

Dumbledore looked up from his desk and smiled at me. I hadn't been in this office since I was a student, and felt alarmingly like one coming in here.

"Have a seat," Dumbledore offered, nodding to the chair on the other side of his ancient mahogany desk. "I am pleased you found the time to see me on such short notice."

I shrugged. "I don't really do anything these days."

"I was under the impression that you and Remus were building a garden? A lovely idea—I am quite partial to butternut squash, myself. Alas, you are not here to discuss botany," he said, stopping himself. He gave me a level look; while his face was kind, there was worry etched around his eyes. "The matter I wish to discuss with you concerns Harry."

"Is he all right?" I interrupted.

"As well as ever," said Dumbledore. He folded his hands together on the top of the desk. "It recently became known to me that you are seeking full guardianship of Harry."

I waited for him to continue, but Dumbledore just gave me an unreadable look. The portraits in the office watched on in complete silence.

"That's the plan," I said slowly, wondering what Dumbledore would have to say about that.

"Before you continue on, there is something of grave importance I must make known to you. But before I begin, you must understand that Harry cannot know—he is still so young, and I do not wish to inflict such heavy knowledge on him."

I frowned. "Okay," I said slowly.

"I shall get straight to my point," said Dumbledore, and his expression grew slightly darker. I began to feel uneasy, and my frown deepened. "I do not believe that Lord Voldemort has disappeared from this world for good. I have significant evidence that suggests so, and it would be unwise to ignore the signs. It is my belief that Voldemort's spirit lingers on, and should he ever regain his strength, I believe he will continue where he left off and go searching for Harry.

"With that in mind, Harry enjoys certain protections as a result of his mother's sacrifice. An old magic, in the form of blood, that carries on through Lily's elder sister, Petunia. So long as Harry can call his aunt and uncle's house home before the age of seventeen, Voldemort cannot touch him."

That news hit me like a train. "I thought Harry went to live with them because you thought I was the traitor," I finally managed, voice weak.

"That was a factor," Dumbledore allowed seriously. "But had I known of your innocence then, I still would have instructed Hagrid to take young Harry to his aunt's house.

"Sirius," Dumbledore continued soberly. "While you have every legal right to exercise your guardianship over Harry, I ask that you consider the risks very seriously. The day Harry leaves that house forever is the day that his protection disappears."

"You don't think I can protect him?" I asked, feeling heat rising in my voice.

"That is beyond the point," he answered. "Is Harry's safety worth the risk?"

I didn't have a reply to that. I didn't know what to do with this information—I was so sure I would get Harry back. It was the only way I knew how to make amends to James and Lily. It was the only thing I had thought about for ten years. And now Dumbledore was asking me to give him up? Leave Harry with the aunt and uncle that kept him in a cupboard under the stairs?

"I don't expect you to make a decision right away," Dumbledore continued. His blue eyes searched my face, but I have no idea what he saw there. "But I wanted you to know, with complete honesty, the weight your decision entails."

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to believe this was happening. "I don't know what to do," I finally whispered, looking around the office as though one of the old portraits would give me the answer.

"Bear in mind that while you may not provide Harry a permanent home, you can still be a significant part of his life," Dumbledore said, straightening up in his chair. "He can visit you on school breaks, provided he returns to the Dursleys at least once a year."

"D'you know I told him he could live with me if he wanted to?" I said, not really expecting an answer. "He was so excited. How can I just take that back?"

Dumbledore looked at me somberly for a long minute. I suddenly felt sick. The room was starting to spin.

"Harry cannot know this yet, Sirius," he finally said. "One day he will have to know the full weight of his reality, but I do not wish to impress that upon him yet. I was rather hoping to give him a few more years of innocence."

I got a mental image of Harry sleeping in the cupboard in his fat cousin's old clothes while his relatives enjoyed real beds. He had never known innocence.

"I won't say anything," I finally replied dully, giving Dumbledore the affirmation he was waiting for. "But how do I explain it to him? 'Sorry, Harry, changed my mind.'"

"I will not pretend that there is an easy way about this," said Dumbledore. "But I trust you will find an appropriate way to explain to Harry."

I doubted that very much. When I returned home, I immediately set about getting drunk and smoking all my remaining cigarettes.

It wasn't like I couldn't adopt Harry; no one had any legal right to stop me. But if Dumbledore was right and Voldemort was still out there, was it worth the risk? And what if Voldemort never materialized again, and I just left Harry to continue sleeping in a cupboard for the rest of his childhood?

I didn't know what to do.

Several hours later, I was lying on the rug in my sitting room, staring at the ceiling with a half-empty tumbler in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Remus had sent two owls by—one this morning, and the other not long ago—asking about my meeting with Dumbledore, but I hadn't been able to reply yet.

I was banking on getting blind drunk first.

By no means did I expect it to solve my problems, but it was something to do that held the dark satisfaction of a little self-destruction. And as the night wore on, that sounded more and more appealing.

Of course, when I woke up the next morning in the exact same spot, blinded by the bright sun interacting with my hangover, I knew I would have to make a choice. Harry's life would continue to go on even if mine felt like it had reached a complete standstill. In that ugly morning, I knew my promise to Lily and James would always outweigh my selfish desires. Protecting Harry's life, no matter the cost.

Even if I wasn't in it.


It took time, but eventually I grew to grudgingly accept my new reality. Harry completed his first year at Hogwarts while simultaneously giving me a heart attack after the news that he had faced Voldemort's broken spirit inside the school. Between me raging and freaking out, Dumbledore managed to tell me the story of what had happened, confirming his suspicions about Voldemort attempting to return to power. I met with Harry with the intention of giving him a scolding like he had never seen before, but all I could do was hug the life out of him once I saw him.

As agreed upon by everyone involved, Harry spent his first two weeks of summer break with the Dursleys, but not before I had a word with them. Ensuring Harry had a real bedroom and proper meals, to be guaranteed by the threat that I might show up, I was able to relax a little easier those fourteen days.

But just a little.

Harry spent the remainder of the summer between myself and the Weasley family, with whom I had steadily grown closer to as a result of Harry's friendship with Ron. The boys typically spent their days playing Quidditch in the yard or lazing around either house.

Second year came and went for Harry, once again ending in an anxiety attack and a verbal tirade the likes of which Dumbledore had never seen. I had begun to second-guess my decision to let Harry stay with the Dursleys, but I knew it wouldn't make a difference once Harry returned to school. He would always manage to find trouble. So just before the start of his third year, holding his Hogsmede permission slip hostage, I explained to Harry the importance of not running after trouble.

"But I don't," he had said, frowning. "Trouble just usually finds me."

"I know," I allowed tiredly. "And it doesn't help that you're the Boy-Who-Lived—" Harry rolled his eyes at that. "Stupid or not, it's true. And I'm always going to worry about you. So if you could please have just one school year that didn't involve Voldemort or Death Eaters, you'd make your nerve-stricken godfather very happy."

Remus ended up taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor after the previous one was Confunded, which helped alleviate my fears of Harry's safety. If I couldn't be at the school every day, then at least someone I trusted would.

Miraculously, Harry managed to do just what I'd ask. I had received very few warning letters from McGonagall, and absolutely none from Dumbledore. Remus' letters were void of any bizarre goings-on at the school. Once several months passed and I was sure Harry would come out of Hogwarts unscathed, I was able to focus on other things in my life.

Like keeping track of Peter.

One night in Diagon Alley I ran into Mundungus Fletcher, an old acquaintance from before the war. After several rounds, Mundungus confessed he had heard of Peter wandering around Albania, the last place Voldemort had been rumored to be hiding. In exchange for a spot of gold, Mundungus promised to keep me updated with any bits of information he heard regarding Peter.

The Ministry, of course, had no real leads. They finally settled on charging him for murder and compliance with the Death Eaters, but that hardly did anyone any good when Peter had all but disappeared. Occasionally articles would appear in publications like the Daily Prophet or Witch Weekly, claiming to have new insight on Peter's whereabouts, but like always, they were full of nonsense speculation.

Harry's third year ended without fanfare, and after a routine two weeks with the Dursleys, I was able to pick him up and bring him home with me.

"Aren't we past this, Petunia?" I asked from the doorstep. I always wore muggle clothes, but I had entertained the idea of breaking out my wizarding robe just for this occasion, if just to mess with Petunia.

"You're merely here to pick up the boy, nothing else," she replied curtly, blocking the entrance to the house while we waited for Harry to collect his things. "And you could have at least gotten a telephone by now. Do you know what it looks like to have owls swooping around here all day?" she hissed in an undertone, looking around to make sure there were no neighbors in the bushes, listening.

"All right, let's go," said Harry, appearing behind Petunia with his trunk and owl cage in hand.

"Say good-bye," I said, giving Petunia a wicked smile.

"Bye, Aunt Petunia," said Harry dully, not even pausing as he moved past me toward the driveway.

"Mind yourself," was Petunia's farewell. She shot me a nasty look before shutting the door and locking it.

"You shot up like a weed," I noted once Harry had reached the driveway.

"Huh? No, I didn't," said Harry self-consciously. Even his voice was different now. "I'm still shorter than Ron."

"You're like a foot taller," I told him. "I'm going to stop letting you go off to school if you keep growing so much."

Harry smacked my arm.

"So there's a Quidditch game this summer," I told Harry as I loaded his trunk into the usual rental car I got for this exact purpose, as strongly requested by Petunia Dursley.

"You need to travel the normal way," she had said haughtily.

"Since when did you get an Audi?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised, as he placed Hedwig's cage into the back seat.

"I was going to get the Ferrari," I said. "Do you know how fast those things go? But your stuff wouldn't have fit in there without magic, and I don't need to freak out your Aunt before we even get out of her driveway. Anyway, Arthur says he might be able to get tickets. Ireland against Bulgaria. I figured you might be interested."

"Might?" Harry repeated excitedly. "Are you kidding? That's awesome—we have to go!"

"Well, we need tickets first," I said, smirking at the look of sheer excitement on Harry's face as I turned over the engine to the car. "You know, I'm still not used to driving this bloody thing—it's a bit different from the bike."

"Sirius, do you have a license yet?" Harry asked as we backed out of the driveway a little too quickly to pass for Petunia's "normal."

"What do I need a license for?" I asked, shifting gears and laying on the gas pedal. We sped down Privet Drive and I turned sharply onto Magnolia Crescent. "I know how to drive."

"Because there are traffic laws," Harry said, hanging on to his passenger door.

I waved my hand dismissively as I sped into town and toward the highway. "You know, muggle transportation might be slow and tedious sometimes, but they got one thing right with this whole car deal," I said, pressing the gas pedal further and slipping narrowly between two cars. "It's almost as exciting as flying." I looked over at Harry's white face and sighed, relaxing on the gas pedal. "All right, fine."

Harry let out his breath. "Thanks. Didn't want to die today."

I snorted at that. "You wouldn't have died. You know James and I took my motorbike out one night—got it up to a hundred and eighty kilometers before the muggle police saw us. Got out of it just fine."

"Yeah? How?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Well, to be fair we were interrupted by Death Eaters," I said, recalling the incident in the narrow alleyway. "And the officers were too shocked to follow us once we had levitated their car." I shot a sideways glance at Harry. His dubious expression made me laugh. "Relax, Harry, I'm not going to drive the car that fast.

"So, how was school?" I asked, changing the subject. "What was it like having Remus as your professor?"

"Really good, actually," Harry replied, looking out the window as we drove out of Surrey. "Professor Lupin's an excellent teacher—best Defense teacher we've had."

"Well, he'll be happy to hear that," I said. "You know, I always thought he'd make an excellent teacher, but it was just never something he thought about pursuing."

"So what did you do all year?" Harry asked me.

I shrugged. "I planted some Bouncing Bulbs not too long ago—they've finally started sprouting."

"Oh, great. You know we studied those in Herbology this year? Those things gave me a black eye."

I couldn't help but grin at that. "Then you might want to stay clear of the garden this summer," I warned him.

Harry gave me a suspicious look. "Why?"

"Hagrid gave me some Chinese Chomping Cabbage to try out."

"Remember when your garden used to be normal?" Harry asked me conversationally. "Now it's like a death-trap, going back there for some tomatoes. You do still grow tomatoes, yeah?"

I smacked his arm, keeping my eyes on the road. "Of course I do. How else would you grow up big and strong?"

"Oh my god, Sirius—"

"Now tell me, did the Dursleys behave?" I asked a little more seriously, looking over my shoulder to switch lanes.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry give a non-committal shrug.

"Now what does that mean?"

"Oh, just that they're the same as always. They're still terrified you'll show up to the neighborhood and start passing out pamphlets about magic. They put Dudley on this diet—see, he's finally gotten bigger around than he is tall, and he doesn't fit into those stupid uniforms his school has. Dudley got so mad he chucked his PlayStation out the window."

"His what?"

"It's like a muggle computer thing you can play games on," Harry replied. "Bit stupid, really. Now he hasn't even got Mega Mutilation Part 3 to take his mind off things."

I managed to cut the usual three-hour drive down to two, and so it was shortly after lunchtime when we made it to my house. Per Harry's usual routine, his trunk engaged in a sort of slow explosion as all of its contents gradually found themselves scattered about the room throughout the week.

I returned the rental car the next morning, and after a quick pruning in the garden, came inside the house to find Harrry sitting at the table, still in his pj's and eating a bowl of cereal in spite of the fact that it was almost eleven.

"I have to run to London in a minute," I said, putting the garden shears in the kitchen sink. "I'll be back shortly after lunch."

"Where you off to?" Harry asked without looking up from his bowl.

I hesitated. "Errands. Boring stuff. Don't set the house on fire," I added, washing my hands quickly.

"No promises," Harry replied before I grabbed my wand off the kitchen counter and disapparated.

I left the narrow alley I had materialized into and headed north on the empty street, making my way towards the now-familiar building on the north side of London. Locating the familiar unmarked door just around the corner, I tapped it twice where the doorknob should be. The door popped open, and I walked up the narrow stairs that led to the familiar waiting room.

The receptionist greeted me neutrally as I signed in, and I took my usual seat in the corner. I pulled out my morning's crossword and began scribbling in words as I waited for eleven-thirty to hit. Finally, after twenty minutes of checking and re-checking my watch, the office door opened and Newman stood there waiting for me.

"Sirius," he greeted pleasantly. "It's been a while."

"Four months," I replied, taking my preferred seat on the armchair by the window. Newman sat down casually on the long leather sofa nearby. I crossed my ankle over my knee, and began absently twirling my pen in my fingers. I still had my crossword out on my lap.

"Tell me what you've been doing," he invited.

I had finally caved and made an appointment with Newman just after Harry left to start his third year at Hogwarts. Only Remus and Novak knew I was seeing him, but the shameful secret as to why remained strictly with me. No one else needed to know that my nightmares had begun to border on paranoia.

I shrugged. "Not much, like always. I planted some Chinese Chomping Cabbage in the garden. Harry's with me for the summer; I picked him up yesterday."

Newman, a man about twenty years my senior with reddish hair and a weather-worn face, waited for me to continue. We both knew I hadn't technically answered his question. The real question.

Why did I come back?

I watched the boats pass lazily across the Thames for a long minute. Finally, I settled on a familiar topic to break the silence. "The nightmares have gotten worse."

"In what way?" he asked.

I gave a half-shrug. "They're more vivid, I guess," I replied, still looking out the window. "I had to stop taking that Dreamless Sleep Potion because it was knocking me out for days. But that other sleeping draught was making me sleepwalk. I wake up in my garden with my wand in one hand and a knife in the other without any idea how I got there."

"And the content is the same." He phrased it as a statement rather than a question.

I gave a long inward sigh. "Yeah."

"What has your life been like these last few months?"

"I have too much time on my hands," I replied honestly after a moment's silence. "Too much time to think. I have enough gold to live off of fifty times over, but I almost consider finding a job for something to do—if I could find someone to hire me, of course. The garden worked for a while, but I need a new distraction."

"Distraction?"

"Something to take my mind off of things."

Newman gave a heavy sigh. "Remember what we said about distractions?"

"Yeah, they're a vehicle that impedes the acceptance of trauma, which is the only way to heal," I replied, a hint of derision in my voice. We had had this argument many times. "Look, I can't walk into a building without planning half a dozen escape routes in my head. I have a hundred pre-planned scenarios laid out if someone were to break into my house. I can't just shut that off."

"But these what-if scenarios aren't the source of your nightmares," said Newman knowingly. "It's something that's already happened that you can't let go of."

I had a flash of James and Lily lying dead shoot across my mind's eye. "It's been nearly thirteen years, but it feels like nothing's changed," I finally said. I gave Newman an expectant look. "Why is that?"

"You tell me," he said. "What do you feel when you think of Lily and James?"

I half-groaned, half-sighed. I hated talking about them. "I want to disappear," I said after a minute.

"Why?"

I gave a non-committal noise that wasn't really an answer. I shrugged, throwing my hand up aimlessly, then started again. "I hate myself so much sometimes that I feel like I can't take it... It's my fault they're gone."

"So you blame yourself for their deaths," he said calmly. "You've forgiven everyone else who played a role—obviously excepting Pettigrew—but not yourself. Survivor's guilt," he added gently to my waiting look. "Until you forgive yourself, you're always going to have these nightmares."

"So the obvious solution is to forgive myself," I said flatly, my voice tinted with sarcasm. "And how do I do that?"

"Sirius, I'm not an instruction booklet. Some things you have to discover for yourself. My job is to guide you to look at things from a different perspective, but ultimately the healing must come from you."

"I need to be able to sleep at night without having weapons hidden under my bed," I said firmly. "That's why I came back. Just…through the summer, at least."

"Because Harry's visiting? You don't want him to know?"

My expression was answer enough.

"Sirius, for as long as you treat this as a source of shame, it's never going to go away. You're feeding your own demons."

"Can you help me, or not?" I asked, refusing to acknowledge Newman's advice. It was the obvious answer, but it was also an impossible one.

He sighed. "Instead of sleeping solutions, you can try something for anxiety. Something strong enough just to take the edge off." He scribbled something down on a piece of parchment. "Stop by the Apothecary in Diagon Alley and give these a try. I hope you'll come back and let me know how it goes."

I took the parchment and folded it carefully, stowing it away in my pocket. I rubbed a hand across my jaw, looking out the window again. The mid-afternoon sun was high in the sky, casting what looked like diamonds over the surface of the river below. "Yeah. Sure."