A/N: Still horribly stuck on a future chapter and not making any progress + vacation + work upheaval = no writing time for this frustrated author! A thousand apologies, and a promise that this story is not abandoned!
Chapter 28
Harry's eyes were alight with exuberant delight as he eagerly took in the shimmering decorations of Muggle London. The whole city was resplendent with Christmas cheer, and it was positively infectious, especially when it came from Harry. Sirius could have spent all day just watching Harry take in the sights and the sounds and the smells as they wandered from store to store.
When Harry owled yesterday to ask his godfather to help him shop in Muggle London, Sirius had eagerly jumped at the chance. It was James who suggested something Muggle for Lily, since Harry was a bit more accustomed to the Muggle world and might have a clue what to get her. She had lived most of her life now in the Wizarding world, but they all agreed it might mean a lot to her to have something Muggle, especially if it was her son giving it to her on their very first Christmas together in over a decade. Lily was reluctant to let Harry out of the house, but James had quelled most of her fears and reminded her he'd be with Sirius the whole time. Pettigrew was unlikely to come after them in the middle of Muggle London, especially since the Minister had gone to the Muggle law enforcement and media about the ordeal. Pettigrew was a wanted man, and surely he knew better than to appear in the middle of a crowd of Christmas shoppers.
As it turned out, they had done very little shopping and much more sightseeing. This weekend, they were all going to Hogsmeade together to enjoy the Christmas festivities, but Sirius and Harry were both enjoying the Muggle take on things. Harry was particularly enjoying the fact that he had quite the stack of Muggle bills with which he could buy just about anything, within reason, that he wanted for his mum. Lily and James had decided he was quite old enough for his own small account at Gringott's, but small to the Potters was nothing to scoff at, and the galleon-to-pound exchange was quite good these days. Harry probably wouldn't have spent much of his gold on himself, but spending it on his family was something else entirely.
"Are elves related to house-elves?" Harry wondered as they stopped to admire a window display along Knightsbridge.
Sirius barked out a laugh as he gazed at the mechanical creatures hammering away at toys behind the glass. "Can you imagine Kreacher making toys?"
"Maybe for me," Harry grinned, and Sirius playfully pushed him aside.
"A few years ago, he gave me a box of maggots."
"No, he didn't."
"Did so."
"He wouldn't do that."
"I'm sorry, have you met Kreacher? Small, wrinkly thing, mutters a lot, calls me every foul name he can think of?"
"Well, maybe he would," Harry conceded. "Where did he even find maggots to fill a box with?"
"I'm quite certain we don't want to know, mate," Sirius shuddered. "We have a new no gifts policy."
"Can't imagine why."
Sirius ruffled his godson's hair and looked back to the elves. "Father Christmas would hardly need elves if he had wizards working for him. A few charms, and those toys would practically make themselves."
"Wouldn't Father Christmas have to be magic himself? Else he wouldn't see the toys."
"Mmm. That's a good point."
"So there aren't really elves? Except house-elves?"
"I'm afraid not," Sirius shook his head. "Though, come to think of it, that one does look a little like the Charms professor at Hogwarts."
"He does?"
"Er…don't ever say that in front of him, all right?"
Harry looked up at him and smiled innocently.
"I do have Christmas presents for you, you know. They can all be returned."
"You wouldn't."
"No," he conceded with a dramatic sigh. "I wouldn't. Cocoa?"
Harry's eyes lit up and he nodded eagerly, so Sirius led him across the street to a little café where be bought them both steaming hot cups of something rich and delicious and quite sure to spoil Harry's appetite.
"Sirius? Harry?" a voice asked just as they procured seats by the window. Both turned around, and Sirius nearly leapt out of his seat when he recognised Claire Conners. She was looking more beautiful than ever, all bundled up in a coat and scarf with her freckled cheeks rosy from the cold. Sirius suddenly felt quite warm, and he hazarded a quick glance at Harry to find his godson nearly beside himself with delight. This would not end well.
"Claire!" Harry said happily.
"Oh, it's so nice to see the both of you!" she gushed. "You're looking so well, Harry. I was worried, when you stopped…" she stopped abruptly, flushing a little as she realised she'd probably said too much.
"Harry's moved back with his parents," Sirius supplied quickly, not wanting her to think they had stopped seeing her for any personal reason. Although, come to think of it, since she was no longer treating Harry, there wasn't technically anything wrong with him asking her to dinner, was there?
"Have you?" Claire asked brightly. "That's wonderful, Harry!"
"Yeah, it's really great," he agreed, sounding so honestly happy about it that Sirius couldn't help beaming with pride. His godson was adjusting quite well, it seemed, and though it hadn't been without its awkward or uncomfortable moments, he was really beginning to take root at home and open up with all of them.
Suddenly noticing that Claire was still standing, Sirius quickly located an extra chair and pulled it over, gesturing for her to sit. "We're out to do a bit of Christmas shopping for Harry's mum," he explained.
"Except we haven't done any shopping," Harry confessed.
"Afraid we were a bit sidetracked by decorations."
"And cocoa, I see," she grinned in bemusement.
"Guilty," Sirius admitted.
"I need some coffee myself, if I'm going to get into the shopping spirit," she sighed. "I'm shopping for my niece, and she's quite picky."
Sirius suddenly felt a sharp kick from under the table and nearly cried out in shock, barely managing to stifle himself as he shot a glare at his godson, who was none too subtle about his gesturing towards the counter. "Come then," he suggested, still wincing a bit in pain. "We'll get you some coffee."
"Oh, no, you don't-"
"At least let me pretend to be a gentleman," he offered along with his most charming smile until she relented. "Cheeky bugger," Sirius whispered in his godson's ear as he rose and followed Claire.
"He looks so much better, Sirius," she said quietly as they waited briefly in line. Sirius did his best to appear casual as he situated himself where he could properly see his godson at the table, maintaining a line of sight the whole time just in case anything were to go amiss. He slid his hand into the pocket of his coat where he'd hidden his wand, ready for any emergency.
"He does, doesn't he?" he agreed.
"When did he go back to his parents? What brought that along? I know he was warming to his mum, but his dad…"
"I'm afraid his little sister had a bit of a crisis. That was the beginning of it. Harry handled it marvelously and really stepped up to help her," he explained. Obviously he couldn't tell Claire what really brought James back into the fold, but that was simple enough to excuse away. "I think his dad needed to see that, and once he did, he came around. That was the end of that. Harry took to him right away. It's spectacular, to tell the truth."
"You've no idea how happy I am to hear that. I was worried I'd said or done something wrong, or that he was ill again or something."
"I should have explained, but it all happened rather quickly."
"Oh, nothing to worry about," she waved a hand dismissively. "I'm just so relieved to see him doing well. He seems happy, too. Far more open with you."
"He is. Very much so. I think having his little sister around does him a world of good. He has to learn to speak up if he's to get a word in edgewise."
"Sounds about right," she chuckled. "How old is his sister?"
"Eleven. The two of them were fast friends."
"I'm glad. I did worry about how he would interact with her. It could have gone either way, truly."
"I'm not so certain, with Lydia. Don't know that the girl has ever not gotten precisely what she wanted."
"Yes, because Harry certainly seems deprived," she teased.
"Are you accusing me of something?" he asked, feigning indignation.
"I certainly am," she nodded vigorously. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't spoil the boy rotten."
"This is a game you are certain to lose, Ms. Conners," he warned her. "I'll have you know I'm a Marauder. And a Marauder always keeps a straight face."
"And what, pray tell, is a Marauder?" she lifted an eyebrow, giving her already perfect face a mischievous glint that threatened to melt him into nothing. He quickly glanced over to Harry again, making sure he did not allow Claire to lower his defenses. Seeing that Harry was content with his cocoa and people-watching, he returned his eyes to Claire.
"My friends and I, in school," he explained. "We called ourselves the Marauders. Infamous troublemakers, some called us. Pioneers, is more like it. Ingenius, one might even say."
"One might. If one happens to be quite full of himself."
"One is."
Claire laughed a gleeful laugh, her cheeks nearly splitting with her grin. They were called forward, and she ordered a large coffee which he eagerly paid for, not even making too much a fool of himself as he fumbled with the unfamiliar bills.
"Was Harry's father one of these Marauders?" she asked as they waited for her coffee.
"He was," he nodded.
"I suppose I can see that. Harry does seem more playful now. Is he much like his father?"
"More than either of them realise," he nodded. "He's very much like his mum in kindness, but now he's relaxed a bit, I see his dad's sense of humour in him. That, and they're very nearly identical."
Claire grew quiet for a moment, regarding him with a curious gaze that made him feel oddly nervous. As his heart sped up a bit, he recognised the feeling of overwhelming attraction and the beginnings of true infatuation. He had hoped it was just a passing fancy, perhaps, a completely normal response to her beauty, but without the worry of professionalism and a proper distance between them, he was quickly realising how close to perfect she was.
"What?" he asked nervously as she continued to gaze at him.
"Nothing," she shook her head, almost bashful as a hint of colour rose to her cheeks.
"Do tell," he prodded.
"It's just…you really love them. All of them. Harry and his family."
The mood sobered as Sirius checked on his godson once more. "His dad's as good
as a brother to me," he answered solemnly. "More than my real brother, by any estimation."
"Oh," she said quietly. "You have a brother?"
"Not anymore," he shook his head, fighting the familiar wave of pain when he thought of his little brother. It was little more than a nagging ache now, but it always troubled him that he hadn't been able to save Regulus, that when he saved himself, he left his brother to the wolves. A part of him had always hoped Regulus would see the light and join their side after all, and his heart had frozen in his chest every time he fought a masked Death Eater and knew it might be the kid who had once crawled in his bed after bad dreams.
"Because….you don't speak to him?" she asked uncertainly.
"He's dead," he responded quietly. "Nearly thirteen years now. We hadn't spoken for years before, though."
"Oh Sirius," she sighed.
"Don't," he shook his head, and then her coffee had been presented and spared him the awkward conversation to come. She took a long sip, then smiled blissfully up at him.
"Just what I needed."
He didn't have to ask her to join them again. She followed him back to the table and happily took up her seat again, easily engaging Harry in conversation. Sirius just sat back and watched for a few minutes as Claire told Harry about his niece, who just turned four, and Harry told her what he was thinking of buying his mum.
But Sirius perked right up when he heard what came out of Harry's mouth next. "We're going to dinner next," he announced. "You ought to come."
Sirius nearly choked on his drink as he gave his godson a reproving look. It was one thing for Claire to join them when the three of them were already in the same place at the same time. "Harry," he scolded mildly. "I'm not quite sure that's appropriate."
"Why not?" he asked innocently, though Sirius knew he was fully aware after their prior discussion. His dear little godson was really in for it later.
"Harry, I couldn't impose," Claire said quickly.
"It isn't imposing," Sirius rushed to correct. "Only, is it proper? Are you allowed?"
"Are you asking for me to join you?" she raised an eyebrow.
"If it's all right, then yes," he confirmed, refusing to look at Harry and give him the satisfaction. "We'd love your company."
"I suppose technically I'm not Harry's therapist anymore," she shrugged. "I don't see why it should be a problem."
"Wonderful," Sirius smiled. "Shall we be off?"
It was a short walk to the restaurant they had picked for dinner, but as Sirius didn't dare a warming charm with Claire right there, the three were all freezing by the time they hurried inside and found a table. Claire excused herself as soon as they'd ordered tea, and Sirius promptly turned to his godson.
"I see you're making up for lost time on the mischief-making front," he noted wryly.
"You told me you liked her."
"I didn't, actually, but that's beside the point. This could have been very awkward, Harry."
Harry had the good sense to look guilty, and then Sirius felt bad for scolding him. Harry really shouldn't have meddled, but it was with only the best intentions.
"Of course I'm glad to have her here," he assured him. "But if something turns out poorly, I'm blaming you."
"That's fair," Harry agreed, cheering up again.
Claire returned from the powder room and dinners were ordered, and then the three returned to lively conversation. Claire was far more witty than Sirius imagined from their brief interactions in her office, and she kept up quite well as Sirius regaled the both of them with edited versions of his exploits at Hogwarts. She was nearly crying with laughter at some of the better stories, and Harry was in stitches as well.
For the moment, however, Sirius was far more interested in Claire than Harry. She was beautiful when she laughed, her light dusting of freckles appearing more prominently as her cheeks flushed with happiness. She had the perfect laugh, in his opinion, full and unabashed without venturing into loud or obnoxious territory, and her joy seemed to fill every part of her.
She was smart, too. Harry hung on her every word as she patiently explained her schooling. Sirius, like nearly every wizard, had finished his schooling with Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Most wizards and witches did training in apprenticeships, though a few took more advanced, focused courses to earn some sort of specialty. He was amazed to hear that Claire had continued to attend school for years and years, obtaining a university degree and then some sort of further advanced degree in order to become a therapist. Unlike the other girls he had dated – beautiful but vapid – Claire was smart, successful, and entirely independent.
And he could not longer deny that he was completely infatuated with her.
"Have you decided what to buy your mum yet?" she asked Harry as they finished up their suppers and Sirius quickly paid the bill before she could protest.
"No," he sighed. "I'm rubbish at this."
"Harry, all boys are rubbish at buying gifts for girls," she assured him soothingly. "Have you thought about perfume? That's the sort of thing a woman loves to have but doesn't always think to buy for herself."
"Yeah?" he asked hopefully, turning to Sirius.
"Don't look at me, mate," Sirius shrugged uselessly.
"See?" Claire asked, rolling her eyes at him. He stuck out a tongue at her, earning a laugh from both her and Harry.
"Will you help us?" Harry asked.
Well, no sense fighting it now. Claire looked to him in askance, and he just nodded in encouragement. "I can certainly try," she agreed.
It was growing late and the shops would be closing soon, so they hurried to Harrod's and began to peruse the ridiculous selection of women's perfumes. Sirius held back and just watched the way Claire interacted with his godson, admiring the way she put him at ease and truly listened to what he was saying. Of course she was good with children; it was her job after all, but she wasn't being paid for this, and she seemed to be enjoying herself.
Right then, Sirius made his mind up. Harry made his selection and purchased it, and they made their way out of the store. "Claire?" he asked as they stepped back onto the street, the snow blowing now in flurries around them.
"Hmm?" she asked, wrapping her scarf around her neck and turning to him expectantly.
"Would you like to have dinner with me? Tomorrow? Just me," he clarified.
"I would," she nodded earnestly. "I would like that very much."
"I had a wonderful time tonight," Claire murmured the next night as he stood with her just outside the door to her flat. They were both heady from the wine at dinner, and she was looking even more gorgeous with her hair now tumbling gracefully from its pinnings and her blue eyes unabashedly adoring.
Merlin, he had hoped for a rather dull evening, just so he could report back to Harry and then forget Claire Conners forever. He had rather expected otherwise, of course, but he could dream, couldn't he? Entangling himself with her was so endlessly complicated…and yet, at the moment, so terribly inevitable.
"Me too," he assured her, reaching up to stroke the curve of her cheek. All those silly things James used to say about Lily suddenly rushed back to him. That mind-numbing sentimentality never had a place in his life, and he thought it was just his way, just part of being cut from the Black cloth.
Apparently, he just had a thing for the forbidden.
"Would you…like to come in?" she asked uncertainly, swallowing hard and tilting her chin up towards him. She looked so lovely, he was truly tempted. But some ancient remnant of his upbringing returned now, and it felt wrong to do that to a woman he actually liked and respected. He bedded his fair share of witches, but it felt wrong to treat Claire like one of them. She was nothing like them, and it had absolutely nothing to do with magic.
"I would love to, and that is precisely why I won't," he grinned.
"Ugh, no," she groaned. "An honourable one. Just my luck."
"My dear old mother taught me a few things, I suppose."
"You told me an hour ago your mother was a foul old bat." She pouted then, looking both sweet and seductive and so alluring he very nearly caved.
"She was," he agreed. "You've no idea how much it pains me to listen to her now."
"Fine," she sighed dramatically. "I suppose I'll be content with a kiss, then."
"Will you allow me to buy you dinner again soon?"
"Anytime, Sirius," she answered sincerely.
He kissed her then, long and deep, and then tore himself away and walked back down the flight of stairs leading out to the street. He slipped into the next alley he saw and quickly Apparated through the wards in Godric's Hollow.
"Padfoot," James greeted in surprise as soon as Sirius materialised in the sitting room. It was late, and the house was quiet, so Harry and Lydia were probably asleep.
"I think I'm in love," Sirius announced as he flopped unceremoniously on the sofa. "Firewhiskey. Now."
"Is that Sirius?" Lily called from upstairs.
"Yes, Love, and it will probably be a late one," James returned, sounding so gleeful Sirius wanted to smack him. Course, Sirius almost certainly deserved a little teasing after what he put James through all those years ago, but they were kids then, weren't they? Surely the mocking…and the creative spellwork…was all justifiable at seventeen.
"Stealing my husband again, are you?" Lily asked as she breezed into the room. "Insufferable rake," she accused.
"Guilty as charged," she sighed.
"Harry has told us all about what you were up to tonight," she informed him, her
grin nearly as wide as James's. "He seems quite fond of her."
"I think I liked him better when he kept his mouth shut," he groaned.
"That's my son, berk," James accused, punching him lightly on the arm.
"And how is the little Marauder today?"
"Just off to sleep," Lily answered.
Sirius shook off his growing concerns about his feelings for Claire in favour of discussing his godson for a few minutes. It was true, Harry had seem much improved yesterday. It was the happiest he had seen him, and he looked healthier, even a mere fortnight after returning home. But Sirius knew about as well as anyone that Harry could sometimes play the proper part out of concern for those around him. "And he's sleeping all right?" he questioned.
"Nightmares here and there," James responded.
"But not like he was having," Lily assured him.
"Good, that's good," he nodded earnestly.
"He has his moments," James conceded. "Lydia overwhelms him, I think, but you can see how much he wants to join in with her. He'll get there," he said confidently.
"I'm certain he will," Sirius agreed.
"I'll leave you boys to talk, then," Lily offered. "James, you'll look in and make sure he's all right when you come to bed?"
Sirius guessed from the look on James's face that a reminder was unnecessary, but James took it in stride. He nodded and kissed his wife, and then Lily returned upstairs while James summoned the Firewhiskey from the kitchen.
"Love, hmm?" James questioned as he levitated a glass to Sirius.
"Don't," he warned half-heartedly.
"Never thought it would be a Muggle who won you over to our side."
"What's your side?"
"Love. Romance. Family. House with a garden and a kneazle or something," James shrugged.
"You don't have a kneazle."
"An owl, then."
"I already had-"
"Love and romance, Sirius. Love and romance."
Sirius groaned and tossed back his glass, handing it out to James for more. His friend chuckled and obliged, and they both sat quietly as they nursed their drinks. "A Muggle," he sighed finally. "I had to lie all night."
"What did you tell her?"
"That I'm a police officer," he snorted. "Try explaining the Black family to a Muggle. Can't very well tell her they were on the wrong side of the war, can I?"
James hesitated for a moment, gazing at Sirius over the rim of his glass before taking a sip. Sirius rolled his eyes, knowing that move full well. They'd known each other since they were eleven, and that was James's patented I know something but I don't know if I should tell you look.
"Something to say?" he inquired.
"You uh…talked about your family?"
"She asked, Prongs. It's sort of a…thing," he shrugged, promptly slinging back the rest of his drink. He felt it burn down his throat and do odd things to his odd, but that was precisely what he needed right now. James offered more, and he gladly took it. They'd probably finish the bottle tonight, and he'd wake in the morning with a massive headache and Lily's awful hangover remedy.
"A thing?" James repeated.
"She asks questions. Analyses. That sort of thing."
"Padfoot, you've been known to go years without mentioning your family, and you live in the house you grew up in. You really hate to talk about them."
"If you grew up there, you would feel the same."
"I know that. I'm merely pointing out that it's not typical of you to talk about them even to me."
"Well, I bloody well did, so now what?"
James took a careful sip of his drink, obviously weighing his words as Sirius
slumped down on the sofa and contemplated the agony to come. That was all that could come of this. He had made a terrible choice, but it was a terrible choice he was going to keep making because she was beautiful and smart and she made his heart quicken and she made him want to tell her everything he'd never told anyone before.
They sat in silence for a long while, as they often did when there was a real, heavy topic between them. He and James were excellent at banter and rapid-fire wit, but their serious conversations often consisted of these silences, the moments of pause between words as they both puzzled things out. "Who knows what might have happened if I hadn't married Lily," James finally mused.
"We'd have lived in utter depravity in a filthy flat in London."
"Well, that," James conceded. "But say I'd met someone else. A bit more attractive than you, more feminine…"
"Hair wouldn't be as good as mine."
"Nothing is."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. But as I was saying…say I did get married, have a few kids. Maybe Voldemort never would have come after me…after them. Lily was wanted on her own. She was Muggleborn, but smart and talented. She was a threat to everything they believed, and I was a Blood Traitor. We were the perfect combination to become his target. Maybe if I'd married a nice Pureblood girl, I'd have lived in peaceful oblivion."
"That sounds bloody awful," Sirius frowned.
"Exactly."
"I'm not sure I follow," he admitted.
"Marrying Lily…it probably complicated everything, Sirius, and maybe I'd have been safer with someone else, but I can't even begin to imagine a life without her. None of it would mean anything. If you think there's even a chance that's how you feel about her, forget the rest, Padfoot. It's worth it."
"That's…rather profound for eleven at night and a couple of drinks."
James made a show of pretending to weep dramatically. "It's just…my best mate…all grown up and falling in love…" he abruptly stopped the fake tears and laughed aloud as a jet of water from Sirius's wand hit him straight in the face.
"Wanker," Sirius accused, though he was laughing a bit himself and feeling much better than ten minutes ago.
"Mm, no need, actually," James grinned cheekily, and Sirius groaned and tossed a pillow at him.
"More than I need to know, mate. Far more, actually."
"Seeing as you're here after your date, I suppose you, on the other hand…"
"Black Family Etiquette made a lovely appearance. I kissed her, that's all," he admitted.
"Merlin, you do like her."
"Yes, and precisely what do you suggest about the fact that I don't know nearly enough about this Muggle business to pull it off much longer?"
"Relax, Padfoot, you're hardly the first wizard to date someone non-magical," his friend pointed out helpfully. "It happens all the time. But you ought to tell her sooner, rather than later. You'll slip up, you know, and the last thing you want is for her to stop trusting you."
"Suppose I could just bring her round the house and introduce her to Mother."
"Charming though your dear old mum is…"
"Or Kreacher, perhaps. He could bake biscuits and show her the family house-elf head collection."
"Is she a fan of historic artifacts?"
"No, I know, I'll show her the scars it leaves when your father does a Slicing Hex on your back."
James grew suddenly sober and set his drink aside. "Sirius," he frowned.
"I'm being dramatic."
"I don't care."
"It was-"
"I don't care how long ago it was. I saw it right after. Not something I've forgotten with time, you know. I can't stand what happened to Harry, and I can't stand what they did to you. Don't talk about it like that," he commanded sharply.
Sirius felt instantly guilty for momentarily forgetting what a sore subject abuse might be to James. "I'm sorry, Prongs," he sighed.
James nodded in acknowledgment and picked up his drink again. "Harry spoke really highly of Claire. He's told us what she did for him. She sounds like the sort who might understand if you gave her a chance, magic or not."
He was right, of course. Claire was completely brilliant with Harry, and she would not judge him for the horror that was his family. But it was a type of evil she hadn't known before, and he had to worry, didn't he? It wasn't just magic he would have to tell her about, but all the horrible ways it could be used, all the horrible ways his own family had used it. He had hinted to the discord with his family, explaining over dinner that he'd been estranged from his brother for years before his death, that he'd left home when he was sixteen and moved in with James. Claire had been warm and compassionate as ever, but it was still difficult to contemplate explaining the war and his family's parts in it.
"You don't have to tell her everything all at once, you know," James reminded him, as though reading his mind. "Tell her about magic. Then you could bring her round to meet everyone. I think Harry would like that."
"So would Claire," he agreed.
"More Firewhiskey?"
Sirius handed him his glass by way of an answer. They finished their drinks in companionable silence, staring into the crackling fire.
"My son is home, and Sirius is dating a Muggle," James announced suddenly.
It started as a chuckle, grew into a laugh, and soon became hysterics. The Firewhiskey had gone to both of their heads, and it all just seemed so funny.
They finished the bottle, Sirius's cares slipping away along with his consciousness. He woke in the middle of the night, the empty bottle next to them, James sound asleep a few feet away. He started to sit up, then realised someone had tucked a blanket over each of them. He glanced around, and noticed Harry tiptoeing back up the stairs. "Cheers, mate," Sirius whispered. "Cheers."
