Author's Note: Surprise! I'm writing Tuesdays with Padfoot: Fifth Year. Writing one-shots was not my cup of tea. I just have too much to say. I'm not exactly sure what I will do with the Less Than 19 Years Later series. For now it's still up, but as time goes on, it will probably get dismantled in order to work into this story. I will definitely not be able to update once a week anymore. Life is just too crazy right now, and I'd rather take my time and write something I'm happy with than publish quickly and not be pleased with the product. Once every two weeks is my goal, but once a month is probably more realistic. To be completely honest, I'm not 100% sure where this story is headed, but hopefully you'll enjoy the journey.

For these first few chapters, I will warn you there's a lot of angst ahead. Keep in mind that Harry and Sirius have JUST defeated Voldemort, lost Mad-Eye, and Sirius saw Harry die in front of him. They have a lot to deal with in the aftermath. I'm a total brain and trauma nerd, so I plan to explore their reactions to that for a little while. If that's not your cup of tea, feel free to try the next tea shop, but I hope you will buckle up and enjoy the ride.

One last heads up, there will be parts of the epilogue from Fourth Year repeated with slight modifications in this chapter.

As always, enjoy! :)

June 30, 1995

The only word to describe the first few weeks of the summer holiday following Harry's fourth year would be rough. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy being at their home again or didn't enjoy his time alone with just Sirius. He did very much, but things were rough.

Even though the term had not completely ended, Sirius told Dumbledore that he and Harry were going home, and Harry had no arguments. He was devastated by the loss of Mad Eye, in a state of shock over everything with Voldemort just being over, and grappling with the fact that he had died, yet didn't. He didn't need the curious stares, awkward questions, and whispered rumors of his classmates right now. He just needed to be alone with his father.

Sirius, for his part, was struggling as well. It wasn't the first time in his life he had struggled. Even after escaping Azkaban, gaining his freedom, and officially getting Harry back into his life, which was all he had wanted for twelve years, he had dark moments. Nightmares plagued him, grief hung around like a dark cloud, and the guilt absolutely consumed him. Though time had not completely healed the wounds, it had helped, along with a healthy dose of close relationships and therapy.

But during that time of healing, Sirius had been mostly able to hide it from his son. Harry went to Hogwarts, so Sirius was able to focus on his grief privately, and his son rarely saw when he completely broke down.

This time was so very different.

Harry was having nightmares just about every night, which would have been bad enough without the fact that Sirius was having them too. With both of them not sleeping well, it was practically impossible for the father to hide this from his son. Sirius wanted so badly to comfort his son, protect him, and care for him, but he didn't really know how to best do that, and he was hurting so badly himself.

So, things were rough.

The one comfort that Healer Williams and others could consistently offer them was that it was all finally over. The evil wizard that had plagued their existence was dead, never to return, and his followers were being held accountable. But this was little comfort to two wizards whose own lives had seemed like a series of unfortunate events, and if it hadn't been for their close friends rallying around them, they would have likely fallen into quite a pit of despair.

Molly Weasley had made sure they had plenty of food. It was actually quite humorous for Harry, because Sirius really was a quite capable cook, and if he wasn't, they had two house elves to assist them if needed. But Harry knew this was Mrs. Weasley's way of helping and loving them. She loved to cook for her people, so she did, and often.

Remus was there so often it was like he lived there again. He usually stopped by at least once a day, which usually resulted in a prank war of sorts between him and Sirius, which entertained Harry and made him look forward to his godfather's arrival. He also planned to faithfully keep up his routine of spending Thursdays with Harry. For now, they were just going to Remus's cottage, but he knew that with time, Harry would eventually feel like venturing out again.

When Remus couldn't be there for one reason or another, Amelia was always ready to step in and check on the father and son. She kept them updated on how the trials were going and other happenings in the wizarding world, and even though she didn't offer the feast that Molly did or the laughs that Remus brought, they truly enjoyed her company and were thankful for her calming presence.

So they were moving forward, just slowly.

Sirius's eyes blinked open as a beam of sunlight made it to his pillow. He checked the clock, realized it was nearly noon, and groaned. It was only when he sat up that he realized he was in Harry's bed, the product of another long night of nightmares. He was in Harry's room, but Harry himself was nowhere to be found. He stretched his back, rubbed his eyes, took a second to massage the headache already forming from lack of sleep, and trudged downstairs.

It didn't take long for the smell of bacon to fill the air and make his stomach rumble. He opened the kitchen door to find his son standing over a pan.

"Good morning," he managed to half-say, half-grunt.

"Morning," Harry responded, flipping the bacon.

"What are you doing?"

Harry paused, raised an eyebrow, and gave his father an incredulous look, as if to say what does it look like I'm doing?

Sirius held up his hands. "My mistake. Stupid question. I should say, `Why are you cooking'?"

Harry still felt like the answer to that was rather obvious. "I was hungry, and I didn't want to wake you."

Sirius frowned. "You're always welcome to wake me, Harry. You know that. I would have cooked for you."

Harry sighed and before he could stop himself, replied quietly, "I don't need you to cook for me, Dad."

And that was another problem.

Sirius wanted to take care of his son. He wanted to cook his favorite meals, listen to how he was feeling, tuck him in at night, and mostly just be there for the boy.

But said boy was having none of it.

The harder Sirius tried to be there for him, the more Harry pushed him away.

There were certainly fundamental differences in how the two of them grieved. Harry wanted to sit with his emotions, mope around, brood as James had done. Sirius wanted to have fun. He wanted to keep himself excited and occupied, mostly to avoid thinking about all the traumatic events they had suffered through.

But mostly, Harry was just dealing with the trauma the only way he had ever known: alone.

"You could have asked Dobby to make you something," Sirius told him.

"Remus said not to do that."

"What?" Sirius asked, his face creased in confusion.

"One day last summer I slept late. I think I got up around 11. Anyway, you weren't here, but Remus was. When I got up, I asked Dobby to make me some breakfast, but Remus stopped him and told me if I didn't get up when breakfast was served, I needed to make my own breakfast."

Sirius nearly rolled his eyes. Even though Remus was a lot more lenient with Harry than he was, he could definitely see his best friend saying something like that. Remus was a fun godfather, but he was old fashioned and valued manners, rules, and respect. Sirius even understood the policy, and it made sense, but that was last summer, when survival wasn't their only daily goal. "Well, I see his point, but until these nightmares subside, you may ask Dobby to make you something whenever you're hungry, ok?"

Harry nodded. "Ok, but I can also just cook something for myself," he said as he began scooping eggs onto an empty plate.

Sirius let out a small sigh and decided this wasn't an argument worth having. If Harry wanted to take care of himself, let him. The boy was fourteen after all and had been cooking for years, so he was not very likely to burn the house down. "Fair enough, I suppose. You got any extra for me?"

Harry spooned some eggs on another plate for Sirius, then added two strips of bacon to each. He carried both plates to the small table in their kitchen, and both wizards began eating quietly. As Harry shoveled in his food, Sirius watched him closely. There were well defined bags under his son's eyes, and Harry looked as if he could fall asleep again at any moment. He didn't really want to address anything difficult today of all days, but sometimes a father had to do what he had to do.

"I've been thinking," he began tentatively, "It's probably a good idea for you to take a potion tonight."

For the briefest of moments, Harry froze, but he recovered quickly, not making eye contact with Sirius. "Didn't Healer Williams say they can be addictive?"

"Yes," Sirius agreed, "But she didn't say we couldn't use them, just to be careful, and Harry, neither of us can go on like this."

Harry stiffened again, this time because of the guilt hearing those words caused in him.

Sirius certainly didn't mean to make his son feel guilty. He just had no idea what the boy could possibly have to feel guilty about. Voldemort, the Rat, Barty Crouch Jr., and that blasted Umbridge woman had caused all of their recent issues. Harry had done nothing but be the unwilling victim. And now they were left to pick up the pieces.

But Harry, who was, of course, not willing to vocalize any of this to his father, felt overwhelmingly guilty. In typical Harry fashion, he was more concerned about his father's despair than his own. Dying didn't come with quite the emotional burden of watching it happen, and Harry could see his father was struggling. Not only were there nightmares, but Sirius was sometimes short tempered and had lost a bit of the sparkle that was usually in his grey eyes. More than anything else that had happened to them, Harry hated to be the cause of that the most.

Of course, Healer Williams and Sirius and Remus and just about everyone else he knew had told him over and over that it wasn't his fault, and to an extent he could accept that. He was finally understanding that Voldemort was the ultimate orchestrator of the evil he had faced, and just because he targeted Harry didn't make Harry at fault. He knew that, but there was one piece of that night he couldn't quite let go of, one thing he could have done differently that haunted him every time he was alone with his thoughts.

His fingers traveled absently to his chest, where the portkey necklace Sirius used to require him to wear usually fell. But instead of telling his father how he was feeling, he chose a different tactic. "I hate potions."

Sirius nearly rolled his eyes at the childish tactic, but he couldn't deny that the little bit of childlike desperation in his growing son's voice made his heart melt. "I know, kid, and so do I. But I'll let you wash it down with some chocolate cake, and then maybe we'll both get a good night's sleep."

"Are you going to take one too?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and daring his father to talk his way out of it, which, of course, Sirius tried.

"No, it's not safe for us both to be that out of it at the same time," he explained simply, but he was now the one trying not to meet the other's eyes.

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Harry retorted irritably before his brain could catch up enough to think better of it.

That caused Sirius to look him in the eyes. "That's quite enough of that, young man."

Harry was a bit shocked at the brevity of that reprimand. Maybe Sirius was right when he said that Harry was going to be getting away with a lot for a while. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, but right now it was a bit unnerving. "Sorry," he answered quietly. "I just think it's important that we both sleep well."

"I'll sleep well if you sleep well," Sirius told him firmly, and even he was surprised at how easily that enormous lie had just rolled off his tongue. He decided he better keep the conversation moving before he could be called out on it. "We better start getting ready soon. I asked Dobby to clean and iron our dress robes. They should be hanging in your wardrobe."

Sirius had a way of making sure a subject was closed even when no one else thought it was, so Harry knew it would be pointless to continue arguing, and he didn't have the energy for it anyway. "You know, if Mad-Eye were here, he'd hate that we were wearing those bloody things to honor him."

Sirius hummed his agreement. "You're not wrong. Truthfully, if Alastor was here he wouldn't want us having a funeral at all. He'd rather we went to the pub and had a drink for him instead." He took the last bite of eggs from his plate and stood up. Harry handed his empty plate to him, and Sirius walked them both to the sink.

Harry stood and looked over sheepishly at his father. "Did my parents have a funeral?"

Sirius let out a small, sad sigh and he placed the plates in the sink and waved his wand, causing them and the pots and pans Harry had used to cook to begin washing themselves. "I think Remus mentioned a small service. Everything was small back then. It wasn't safe for a lot of us to be gathered together."

Harry nodded his understanding. Sirius had talked to him about how the death eaters became especially active in the few weeks following Voldemort's original downfall, which was what led to tragedies such as what had happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom.

It was also why the father had made it clear they likely weren't going out anywhere particularly exciting anytime soon, but Harry was pretty insistent he wanted to attend the funeral, and Sirius felt safer knowing so many Order members would be there.

Sirius walked over and patted his son's shoulder. "You going to be ok today?"

Without hesitation, Harry nodded. He was determined to get through the day. "Yeah, I'll be ok. I've just never been to a funeral before."

That caused a frown to form on Sirius's face because it reminded him that that meant his son had likely never been to a graveyard before, and a familiar pang of guilt hit him. Before he could stop himself, he said, "What would you think of going to visit your parents' grave soon?"

A look crossed Harry's face, and Sirius immediately recognized it not as the look his son usually got when he didn't like an idea, but the one he got when he felt guilty.

"What's that look for?"

Harry's cheeks grew red. He took a deep breath, then bravely looked his father in the eyes. "I've already been."

Sirius was flabbergasted. "You mean the Dursleys took you? I must admit I'm shocked; I just assumed they never had."

Harry shook his head. "Not with the Dursleys. With Remus."

Sirius was silent, his features unreadable, for several seconds.

"Please don't be mad," Harry pleaded. "I wanted to go, and I didn't think you did. So I asked him to take me."

At this point Sirius was more confused than angry, and he definitely wasn't angry at his son. His best friend was another story entirely. "When?"

"A couple of times," Harry admitted. "I asked him to take me one Thursday last summer, and we've been back a couple of times since."

Sirius could tell his son was getting worked up, and he didn't want that. "I'm not angry, Harry. Just a little…surprised. Why didn't you ask me to take you?"

Harry hadn't actually done anything wrong, but his face looked like he had broken his father's heart and it was killing him. "I just knew you didn't like to go there. I knew if I asked you, you would, and I didn't want you to feel pressured to go. I'm sorry."

Sirius held up his hands to stop his son. "You don't have to apologize, Harry. I understand. I'm just a bit surprised."

"You promise you're not angry?"

"I promise I'm not angry," Sirius answered, but he added at you in his head. "Why don't we go get ready?"

And again, the conversation was over.

….

Sirius was already dressed, looking quite regal and handsome in his dress robes despite the fact that he hadn't slept well in days and felt like he'd been hit by a truck. He was sitting on their couch waiting, wand in hand, when Remus stepped through the floo.

Remus was just about to greet him warmly when a stinging hex hit his wrist. "Damn it, Sirius! What was that for?"

Sirius lifted his wand again, but Remus drew his more quickly.

"Do it, and this is going to turn into a duel, and I will show no mercy," the werewolf snarled.

Sirius was tempted to start the fight, but he knew Remus's reflexes were well trained through dueling with skilled seventh year students regularly, and even though he could probably best his best friend eventually, they didn't have many possessions that would survive the battle. He lowered his wand and stood up. "What the hell were you thinking taking Harry to James and Lily's grave without me?!"

Remus immediately lowered his wand as he closed his eyes in a wince. He felt like the lowest of life forms. He knew it wasn't a good idea when he took Harry for the first time, but the boy had been so convincing, and he knew Sirius wouldn't want to go. Looking at Sirius now though, he realized just how truly hurt his friend was. "I am so very sorry, Sirius."

"I didn't ask if you were sorry, I asked what the hell you were thinking," Sirius snapped.

Remus sighed. "He asked me to take him. I encouraged him to ask you to go with us, but he refused. He said he knew you didn't like to visit their graves, and he didn't want to put you through that. What was I supposed to do? Not take him?"

"No, you were supposed to tell me!" Sirius was practically yelling, but he took a deep breath. The last thing he needed was Harry coming out and asking what was going on.

Remus held up both hands. "You're right, and I'm sorry."

Sirius crossed his arms. His breathing was ragged and he was giving all of his energy to fighting back tears.

Remus took a chance and walked over, placing a tentative hand on Sirius's shoulder. "He knew you didn't like it there, Sirius, and he didn't want to hurt you," he said softly.

Sirius's breathing sped up, and he lost the battle with one of his tears. "They're not there," he said through gritted teeth.

"I know," Remus said softly, "But he never had a chance to say goodbye, and I felt like he deserved that. He didn't want to tell you. He knew you'd take him, even though you didn't want to, and he couldn't do that to you."

"It's not his job to take care of me," Sirius countered, wiping another stray tear.

"I agree," Remus nodded. "But it's ok sometimes for you to take care of each other."

Sirius glared at him for a few seconds, but eventually his shoulders fell and conceded the point. "I do appreciate you taking him, but if you ever hide anything like that from me again, Remus Lupin, I swear I will hex you into a thousand different pieces. I mean it, Moony."

"I get it, Sirius. But for the record, you know Harry wasn't wrong. You would have gone with us, and you would have been miserable," Remus countered.

"So," Sirius shrugged. "I would have done it for Harry."

"Yes, but my point is that you don't have to do everything for Harry by yourself. You can ask for help."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Harry's bedroom door opening. The teenager called out, "Ready?" before he appeared at the top of the stairs. "Oh, hi Moony."

Remus smiled at his godson. "Hello, Harry. And yes, I believe we are ready." He raised an eyebrow questioningly at Sirius.

Sirius cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, yes we're ready." He walked over to his son, straightened his tie, and smoothed down his dress robes before bending enough to look Harry directly in the eyes. "Are you ready for this?"

Harry gave a half shrug. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess." He tried to shake off his father's scrutinizing eyes by turning towards Remus. "Where's Tonks?"

"Working the security of the funeral," Remus explained. "We'll see her there."

….

The funeral had been small, but nice. Dumbledore spoke briefly, then Amelia and various other aurors all told stories of missions with Mad-Eye Moody, some of them deep and meaningful and others humorous and light, and it really had been a celebration of his life more so than a time of deep mourning. Ron's entire family had been there, along with Hermione's mum and dad and Neville's grandmother, but Harry's friends all chose to sit with him, which was a tremendous comfort to the boy who felt more than a bit responsible for Moody's death.

Sirius had opened Grimmauld Place as a retreat for all the Order members following the burial. Kreacher provided several snacks, and the adults continued telling stories of Mad-Eye over drinks while the kids hung out in the sitting room. Sirius has just finished a tale about his time in the Auror Academy, when a hex intended for his training partner hit Mad-Eye in the leg, when he saw Harry peeking in nervously through the kitchen door.

Sirius set his drink down and excused himself before joining his son in the hallway. "What's wrong Pup?"

Harry shuffled his feet a bit as he looked at the ground. "Ron asked if I wanted to come spend the night tonight."

Sirius was confused for a moment. He'd known Ron was going to ask. Molly had already discussed it with him. "Do you want to go?"

Harry bit his lip before answering. "I do, but…"

Suddenly Sirius realized the problem. "But you're concerned you'll have a nightmare," he said quietly so they couldn't be overheard.

"Yeah."

Sirius nodded his understanding as he thought over a solution. "Would you like to go for a few hours, then maybe come home before bed?"

The thoughtful look on Harry's face as his forehead scrunched up and his nose twisted just a bit made Sirius smile to himself. "Yeah, I think so," the boy answered.

"Ok, well I can be the bad guy if you want. I'll talk to Molly, and you can tell Ron I want you home tonight. Say, around 7?"

Harry nodded. "That works."

Sirius offered his son a hug, and Harry gladly accepted, though he pulled away again much too soon for his father's liking.

"Thanks, Dad."

Sirius kissed his messy head. "You're welcome. Do you have some more casual clothes in your bedroom here?"

"I think so," Harry replied.

"Ok, head upstairs and change. I'll speak to Molly."

"Sounds good," Harry responded before walking back to his friends.

Sirius had fully intended to speak to Molly Weasley immediately, but when he walked back into the kitchen, Amelia caught his eye and he got completely distracted from everyone else in the room. He walked over to her. "Hi," he said sheepishly, wondering why he was suddenly shy around Amelia.

Amelia smiled and hugged him. "Hey, how are you and Harry?"

Sirius sighed. "We're taking it one day at a time." He looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Do you have any news for us?"

Amelia smirked. "Oh yes I do, but I think I'll surprise you. There's going to be a special, evening edition of the Daily Prophet today. It should be there when you get home."

"Oh?" Sirius asked, his eyebrows raised, clearly intrigued not only by the potential news but the brilliant and beautiful woman in front of him too. "You really aren't going to tell me anything else?"

Amelia pretended to zip her lips as she smirked at him, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips for hours. Unfortunately for him, he noticed Molly and Arthur Weasley taking their leave, so he had to say goodbye to Amelia and catch them before they reached the teenagers waiting upstairs.

They were about halfway up the staircase when Sirius caught their attention. Molly and Arthur turned around as he called to them.

"You're ok with Harry coming over, aren't you Sirius?" Molly asked, concerned with the troubled look on Sirius's face.

"Of course," Sirius told her quickly. "I appreciate you giving him the opportunity to get out of the house for a little while. I think he needs that. But he's not so keen on spending the night. You see, he's been having quite a few nightmares, and I think he's worried about the possibility of having one tonight and being embarrassed in front of his best mate."

Arthur seemed to completely understand, but Molly's face morphed into a worried frown. "Has he tried Dreamless Sleep?"

Sirius shook his head. "Not yet. Our plan was for him to try it tonight. That's another reason I'd like him home this evening."

"Well, we'd be happy for him to stay with us and take it. Ginny won't be home this evening anyway, so Ron can sleep in her room and Harry can use his room alone. That way you can get a good night's sleep too," Molly offered. She wrung her hands a moment before tentatively adding, "You look quite tired yourself."

Sirius smiled. He did appreciate Molly's concern even if he could not bring himself to accept the offer. "That is terribly kind of you to offer, Molly, but I think Harry would be more comfortable at home. Would you mind just seeing that he gets home by seven?"

"Of course," Arthur began, but Molly was a bit more pushy. "Are you sure, Sirius? We're all a bit worried about you. If Harry is having nightmares, then you must not be sleeping well either."

A heavy sigh escaped Sirius. He wanted to tell Molly to back off and also ask her who "we all" was, but the look of sympathy he was getting from Arthur relaxed him enough to admit his struggles. "Truthfully, I'm not sleeping well. I'm up most nights with Harry, but I assure you, it's nothing I cannot handle."

Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. "One thing I've learned from having seven children is that even the worst of phases are over before you know it. It may not feel like it right now, but this too shall pass."

Sirius nodded and smiled, and though Molly seemed to want to say more, she eventually capitulated. "Ok, Sirius. Just let us know if you do ever need help. We're happy to do whatever we can. We'll make sure Harry is home by seven tonight."

Sirius thanked them and walked back to the kitchen.

Nobody noticed the teenager listening and hiding just out of eyesight at the top of the stairs feeling such deep shame at being the cause of so much grief for his father.

….

The weather had turned rainy, so Harry and Ron, who would have normally spent their time at the Burrow flying together, were lounging around in the redhead's room flipping through Quidditch magazines.

"How's Ginny?" Harry tried to ask Ron casually.

Ron looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Fine. Mostly waiting on her ex-boyfriend to get his head out of his arse and write to her."

Harry made a rude gesture toward his friend, causing Ron to laugh.

"If it's all the same to you," Ron told him as he turned his head back to his magazine, "I'd rather not discuss your relationship with my sister."

"I'm not sure I have a relationship with your sister," Harry countered.

Ron shrugged. "If you want one, you better act fast. She got an owl from Dean Thomas just yesterday."

Harry's eyes flashed, but he tried to hide it. "I couldn't exactly discuss it at the funeral. That would have been a bit insensitive, don't you think?" he said with a scowl.

Ron shrugged again.

Harry sighed and leaned his head back against Ron's bookshelf. "Why didn't she come back here?"

"She went home with Hermione. There's some muggle play in London they both want to see, and Hermione's parents offered to take them both," Ron explained absently as he studied an article about the newest members of the Chudley Cannons.

Harry hummed and looked back down at his magazine. When Ron finally looked up from his, he noticed Harry fidgeting with the chain of his portkey necklace.

"You still wear that thing, you know, now that You-Know-Who is dead?"

Harry was confused for a moment until he realized what he was doing. He shrugged and let go of the necklace. "I probably will, but we haven't really been anywhere besides the mind healer and the funeral today." He raised an eyebrow at his best friend before adding, "And Voldemort is dead, Ron. I think you can say his name now."

Ron shuddered, but ignored the last comment. "How mad was Sirius when he found out you sent Cedric with the necklace instead of using it yourself?"

Harry frowned. "He wasn't. Said he understood."

"Really?" Ron asked incredulously. "I thought he would have gone spare."

Harry shook his head.

Sirius was, for all intents and purposes, what most would consider a "laid back" parent. He never made a big deal of what he considered little things. He didn't mind cursing, could handle (and reciprocate) a small amount of attitude from time to time, didn't assign a ton of chores, didn't have hard and fast curfews and bedtimes, and just generally was easy to live with.

But he did have rules, and he expected Harry to obey them. Harry knew painfully well that putting himself in danger was not tolerated. He also knew that Sirius hated lying, and he generally expected Harry to be respectful. But because Sirius didn't make a big deal about little things, it was hard for Harry to read him when he was being especially lenient.

Harry ran his fingers over the necklace again. Sirius hadn't said anything to him about it since that night, but then again, they never went anywhere without the other. Maybe his father just figured he didn't need it if they would be together.

Or maybe he was just tired of Harry ignoring his rules and had given up.

Ron's voice broke Harry out of his thoughts.

"The rain has stopped. Want to try flying now?"

Harry blinked a few times to bring his mind back into the moment. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, let's go."

….

MINISTER OF MAGIC RESIGNS AMID ALLEGATIONS OF INCOMPETENCE, PUTTING CHILDREN AT RISK

By: Rita Skeeter

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has resigned after allegations surfaced of him repeatedly ignoring signs that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was rising to power again.

Albus Dumbledore, adored Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, warned Fudge repeatedly over the last year that the signs were pointing towards the return of the Dark Lord. Most witches and wizards are aware of the Dark Mark appearing in the sky after last year's Quidditch World Cup, but you may not be aware that The Boy Who Lived himself, Harry Potter, was attacked last summer by a death eater and warned that the Dark Lord would rise again.

Another notable oversight by the Minister was his own name being forged to free Peter Pettigrew from Azkaban. Fudge was warned at the time that this had happened, but the Minister insisted that it be reported that Pettigrew had died. It is now believed that the ministry official responsible for his escape was Fudge's former Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. Fudge showed himself to be an even poorer judge of character when he recently appointed Umbridge to the temporary role of Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation.

As we all know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was resurrected just days ago, but due to the bravery, diligence, and determination of Dumbledore and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones, plus the impeccable abilities of the Boy Who Lived Again, the Dark Lord has met his downfall. Though the celebrations are widespread, numerous wizards and witches all over Britain are mourning as beloved auror Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody was murdered in that confrontation. The wizarding world lost a brave and adored warrior in the fight against dark magic, and his death can be directly attributed to Fudge's incompetence.

It remains to be seen who will succeed the Minister, but early rumors point towards Madam Bones.

Sirius folded the Daily Prophet and slid it back to Remus. "She really did it."

Remus nodded. "Did you doubt her?"

Sirius shook his head. "I never doubt Amelia, but Skeeter I had some reservations about."

Remus chuckled before turning serious again. "How do you think Harry's doing, really?"

Sirius shrugged. "About the same. He's hurting. Losing Moody's been hard on him. The kid's lost too many people."

"We've all lost too many people," Remus replied. "He seemed to handle the funeral well."

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, I think it was good to see his friends." Sirius shed his dress robes and began unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath. "I'm thinking about taking him to the beach house, just the two of us, for a few days. Give us a chance to get away for a little while."

"That's a good idea. If you're going to be sad, it helps to be sad by the sea."

"My thoughts exactly," Sirius replied. "He also starts his quidditch training next week, so that should cheer him up some, although I still have to get him to a healer for a physical first, so we'll see how that goes."

Remus nodded, then studied his friend's face for a moment. "You ok Padfoot? You looked tired."

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face and sat down. "I haven't been sleeping well." He stopped talking, but Remus stared at him until he was forced to speak again. "Every time I close my eyes I see him dying, Moony."

Remus frowned at his friend, his heart breaking for him. Seeing Harry die had been hard on both of them, but Sirius had almost come completely undone, and the poor man had already suffered immeasurable heartache throughout his life. It wasn't fair that this was something he had to relive every day. "What does Healer Williams say?"

"Time," Sirius said almost bitterly, "her solution to everything. Harry's having nightmares. Give it time. Harry's having panic attacks. Give it time. I can't sleep. Give it time. There's only so long I can go on without sleep. How much time is it going to take?"

Remus leaned forward and put a hand on Sirius's knee. "I know this isn't particularly comforting, but it's only been a week, Padfoot. It's hard to see now, but you and Harry will get through this. It's not a little thing you've been through. You need to give yourself some grace. Have you tried Dreamless Sleep?"

Sirius felt a pang of guilt over his earlier disagreement with Harry. "I don't want to have to use that every night."

"I'm not telling you to. I'm telling you to use it for a short time. You could also try muggle sleep medicines. They're less addictive, but usually pretty effective."

Sirius sighed. "Well truthfully, I already told Harry he had to take some tonight. So if he starts sleeping more peacefully, I will take it myself."

Remus frowned. "Why don't you both just take it?"

"Because if we both take it, Harry could wake up and need me, and I'd be too drowsy to help."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "That's a lousy excuse, even for you. I'll tell you what. I'll stay here tonight, and you can both take the potion. If Harry wakes up, I can help him and you can rest."

Sirius shook his head. "No, I can help him…"

"Sirius," Remus cut him off. "You have to let others help you. You can't take care of Harry if you're not taking care of yourself."

Reluctantly, Sirius agreed.