Summary: HP/SB SLASH. Set at Christmastime during Harry's seventh year. Harry can't wait to see his Godfather again, even though his private feelings towards him are just a little hard to handle…
AN1: If we go with proper canon chronology, Pirates of the Caribbean wouldn't have been released in the cinema in the summer after the trio's sixth year, but please try to suspend your disbelief… But as I'm ignoring the evil event at the end of OotP too it shouldn't be too hard. Hmm, perhaps I should just label this fic AU?
AN2: I'm slowly writing more on this one, and it will get done eventually. I really lost momentum with it when my old account was deleted, and when my computer hard drive crashed at around the same time I actually thought I had lost the story completely for a while. Luckily it has been saved.
Rating: I'm keeping the R rating, and this fic was originally written to be very hot and R rated but as I don't seem to be able to write R stuff without it being too racy and thereby getting my account deleted… here is a much cleaner version than I ever intended, it may not ever even end up being worthy of the R, but we shall see.
"Harry?" The voice calling his name sounded irritated and as if it was coming from a long way away.
"Mmm. Just a few more minutes," he mumbled, snuggling his quilt back under his chin.
The quilt was tugged at none too gently. "No."
Harry held on tight. "Hermiiioone," he whined.
"Harry, let go of my cloak and stop drooling on your potions essay! People are looking."
Harry slowly sat up, having to peel his face away from a rather damp sheet of parchment as he did so. He blinked and pushed his rather smudged glasses back up his nose to see a table-load of tiny Hufflepuffs staring wide-eyed at him from across the library. He turned to his left and blinked sleepily at Hermione; she was glaring at him, and he realized he was clutching her right sleeve and had in fact had it tucked under his chin until a moment ago. Hoping he hadn't drooled on her sleeve, he quickly released it.
"Sorry," he told her with his most charming smile. He smiled easily at the Hufflepuff first years and called out softly, "Just NEWT stress kids. You'll understand in a few years."
A few squeaked and flushed at the acknowledgement before returning to their own studies.
He turned back to Hermione and grinned again. "Just tell me I didn't snore."
Her lips twitched slightly. "Only very softly. However, I think you may have a major re-write on your hands for your 'deadly but untraceable potions' essay," she replied.
Harry frowned. "But you said it was good. I thought it was good; Snape might not even find an excuse to fail me."
Hermione stood up and began methodically stacking papers into her oversized book bag. "It was good, but most of the ink from paragraph four relocated to your cheek when you made a strange wailing noise, drooled on the parchment and then rubbed your face on it." With that she hoisted the bag on to her shoulder and trotted out of the library, her shoulders shaking suspiciously.
Harry looked down at his essay and swore softly; Hermione was only too right. Paragraph four was now just a damp inky smudge, most of the words rendered almost indecipherable. Resignedly he flicked through his notes, trying to figure out how to recreate the lost work. If only he wasn't so tired he wouldn't be taking impromptu naps in the library. NEWTs were supposed to be "nastily exhausting" granted, but perhaps if he were able to sleep at night he might have a hope in hell of staying awake during the day.
But at night he was plagued by dreams. Voldemort still occasionally poked a hole in his defenses and visited him with a nighttime horror or two, but Harry was becoming increasingly successful at distancing himself from the things he sometimes saw. It was still awful, but not unmanageable. No, it was a different sort of dream that woke Harry in the night, a different sort of dream, which left him sweating and shivering. Not a bad dream as such, but not a dream that could really be termed 'good' either.
Oh, they were enjoyable though, Harry mused with a small smile tugging at his lips. They just weren't the sorts of dreams he shouldbe having.
If he were dreaming about some pretty blond Hufflepuff that would be fine, if it were Ginny Weasley it would be wonderful. Ron would love it. Well, maybe not the sexy dream part, but the idea that Harry was interested in his sister would go down great. Even dreaming that way about Hermione would be better, even though she was his best friend and dating his other best friend. Okay, bad example. Ron would kill him. Hell, possibly dreaming that way about Draco Malfoy would be better.
But no, if he had to have raunchy, sweaty, hot dreams about someone, they just had to be about his godfather.
The fates really did like a damn good laugh at his expense.
Being gay didn't trouble him overmuch once he had realised it was accepted much more readily in the wizarding world. He had admitted to Ron and Hermione during the summer after sixth year that he thought he might be gay, and they had happily supported him. Secretly, he even suspected Ron had a ridiculous complex about losing Hermione to him, and so was almost gleeful about the news.
But then after receiving total support and encouragement from Ron and Hermione, and then from Ginny and Neville too, he just had to go and pick someone impossible to fall for.
He hadn't meant to; he'd just finished firmly telling his friends that he didn't have a crush on any particular guy they knew, that it was just a general non-attraction to women that had set him wondering. Then, he had found himself admitting he was more interested in one of the handsome male leads of a film they had watched together than in the beautiful heroine, when suddenly his godfather had been chased through the kitchen wearing nothing more than a pair of worn jeans, laughingly shouting abuse over his shoulder at an irate Remus, who apparently had just been outrageously pranked.
As his godfather had raced past and away to safety up the stairs, Harry had been forced to admit to himself that his godfather was still a very attractive man. Thereafter it was an image he had found it difficult to dislodge. The more he tried not to think about it, the more the thought persisted in wedging itself in his thoughts. Half-naked Sirius seemed to invade his mind at very inopportune moments, including in the showers after quidditch practice. Luckily nobody else had seemed to notice the inevitable result of those thoughts.
Harry groaned again and raked his fingers anxiously through his hair, making it stand up in wild tufts that gave him the appearance of having horns. Oblivious to his audience he began absentmindedly shredding the corner of his potions essay.
How wrong could his feelings be anyway? What exactly was wrong with having your own godfather, a man slightly more than twice your age and your deceased father's best friend at that, as the star of your X-rated fantasies? Well, it sounded very wrong when he put it that way. Harry banged his head on the table, causing a small landslide of potions books, and moaned softly, unwittingly making the already nervous Hufflepuffs terrified that he was having a breakdown.
It was all Sirius' fault for being so attractive and amusing and kind and intelligent and assorted other good things. A man his age shouldn't be allowed to run about half-naked and look that good doing it. He had no right to be a wonderful person that made you look beyond the excessively attractive exterior and fall head over heels in love with him.
Of all the stupid things Harry had done in his life, he was pretty sure this was the stupidest. Even if his godfather was interested in men - and he probably wasn't - he was still Sirius' seventeen-year-old godson and as such was probably off limits even if Sirius did by some miracle find him attractive.
There were only four days to go before he and his friends would be going home for the Christmas holiday, and then he would see Sirius again. Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was dreading it or looking forward to it.
He slowly forced himself to sit upright, and picked up his quill again. He needed to forget how good Sirius made worn denim look and get on with writing an essay so good that even the greasy git would be forced to give him a good grade. With the image of Snape furiously gnashing his teeth at having to give him decent marks held firmly in mind, Harry began to write with newfound concentration. He absolutely would not think about Sirius any more. Not for a while anyway. At least, he would try not to.
Remus Lupin staggered through the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place laden with armloads of shopping, which he was balancing precariously. Moments later he found himself leapt upon by his overeager best friend and they both crashed to the floor with a heavy thud in a shower of parcels.
Remus extricated himself with difficulty and stood up offering a hand to a slightly sheepish looking Sirius. "What on earth was that about?" Remus asked gently. He was pretty sure he knew what it was all about. The only time Sirius ever got this excited these days was when it came to Harry.
Sirius scrambled upright looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, Moony… got a bit carried away. But it's Christmas!" He did a small impromptu war dance of sorts around an amused Remus before dropping to his knees again, where he began sifting through the packages, looking worried. "Did you get them all?" He demanded frantically.
Remus chuckled. He had been sent out and ordered not to return on pain of death until every item on Sirius' shopping list had been fulfilled. It had been a very large list. "Well, Padfoot. I'm sorry to have to disappoint you at this time of the year, but there were a couple of things I couldn't manage to get."
Sirius froze with a horrified look on his face as he clutched an especially large parcel to his chest. The parcel made a strange wheezing sound, but Sirius didn't seem to notice.
Remus took a step back and fished around in his pocket for the list that had been pressed into his hand so many hours earlier. Sirius was making this too easy. "Mind that parcel, Padfoot," he added as he scanned the list.
Sirius didn't reply. He just stared at Remus, waiting to be told which of his gifts hadn't been found.
Remus obliged by reeling off a short list, all of which he knew Sirius had particularly wanted for Harry, all of which Tonks would soon crash through the door with. After all, there was only so much Remus could carry.
Sirius shrugged, trying to look resigned as the first few items were reeled off, but soon looked increasingly miserable and was hugging the parcel far too tightly. With a short but earsplitting series of cracks and pops the mishandled package of glitter snowpuffs exploded spectacularly in Sirius' arms. Within a heartbeat the whole hallway was thickly crusted with a blanket of white glitter. The hall was a winter wonderland, Mrs. Black began screeching under her blanket, and Sirius resembled a snowman. Remus merely looked as if he'd been caught in a heavy fall of snow and promptly doubled over laughing at his friend. He could barely see Sirius' face, but he knew there was one hell of a glare going on under there.
There was the sound of running feet and Molly Weasley dashed in. "Oh Great Merlin you two! I thought we agreed the snowpuffs were a bit too volatile and would be best just used in small doses for the tree! Did you have to use them so violently in the hall? Honestly, I feel as if I have a dozen children sometimes, not seven."
"It was an accident," grumbled Sirius, still busy glaring at a chuckling Remus.
"Wow, nice bit of decorating going on in here!" Tonks declared as she shouldered her way through the front door and surveyed the frosty looking hall. She shifted her armload of parcels and squinted. "That you under there, Siri? Or did they really put a snowman in the hall?"
Sirius turned, his glittery white casing crackling as he did so, and glared at Tonks too. "It's me," he complained, then as he began brushing the glitter from his face he spotted one long, thin and unmistakably broom-shaped parcel tucked under her arm and spun to look at Remus.
"We got them all." Remus told him reassuringly and then cringed as Tonks was on the receiving end of Sirius' ebullience and they both crashed gracelessly to the floor. Sirius transformed into his canine form and joyfully began digging up glitter-crusted parcels, while Remus and Molly helped Tonks to her feet.
"He's got Christmas fever again, bless him," murmured Molly fondly as she left the room. "Now, I must go and check on the mince pies."
Remus and Tonks looked at each other and turned to follow; Sirius in this sort of mood was probably best left alone. As Remus walked towards the kitchen and the enticing aroma of Molly's pies he couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't Harry fever that was making Sirius act strangely.
Ron Weasley lay snug in bed, comfortable in the knowledge that he had no classes until after the New Year. It was terrific to know that before the end of the day he would be surrounded by his family, friends, and lots of delicious food. He could enjoy his first Christmas as Hermione's boyfriend without it even crossing his mind that she would someday leave him for his richer, better looking, and famous best friend. He had even managed to get her a few small gifts he felt almost convinced she would appreciate; Ginny had sworn they would go down well anyway.
He sat up slightly and squinted in the dim light, trying to read the clock. He managed to make out the position of the hands and was happy to find there was some time yet to lie-in before Hermione marched in and began organising them. He sighed contentedly; at times like these he could almost forget there was a bloody awful war going on, which of course was the exact moment Harry began thrashing wildly in his sleep, moaning loudly.
Ron hastily rolled out of bed, but stood on something extremely sharp and bellowed loudly. He hopped frantically on his uninjured foot before losing his balance and crashing to the floor. Harry immediately stopped thrashing and Neville stopped snoring. Ron groaned as Harry leaned over the side of his bed and stuck out a tentative hand to pat Ron's shoulder. "Ron?" He questioned, not sounding at all as if he'd just been possessed by an evil wizard.
Ron moaned, "Harry, I think something bit me."
Harry and Neville immediately rushed to his side followed by Seamus and Dean.
"Are you alright, mate?" Harry asked as Neville lit up his wand and looked around nervously for whatever might have bitten Ron.
"I don't know," quavered Ron, his fingers still wrapped tightly around his foot, "It might've been a spider, a nasty one with big poison fangs! I could be dying, Harry!"
Dean snorted and held up the offending object. "Try your prefect badge, Ron."
Ron felt the blood rush to his cheeks and was grateful for the dimness of the room. "Oops," he offered mildly.
Harry grinned and offered a hand to help him up. "At least it wasn't a spider, though I don't think I'd really want a pin that size in my foot as a wake up call, either."
Ron snorted and let himself be dragged to his feet. "Actually mate, you were my wake up call. I was dozing in peace when you started thrashing about and groaning like anything, so thinking that You-Know-Who had got in your head again I leapt out of bed to snap you out of it and stood on the sodding pin." He scrutinized Harry carefully, his eyes flicking up briefly to a perfectly normal looking scar. "So, what was that about?" He added casually as he sat back on his bed.
Harry turned away, flushing under Ron's honest blue gaze, "Uh, well just your average not good dream. It doesn't always have to be Voldemort, you know."
Ron grimaced at the name but didn't flinch. "Oh right, sorry to hear that. Well I woke you up anyway, so that's good Let's get some more sleep, shall we?"
Harry nodded, "Yeah, before Hermione bustles in earlier than any normal human and begins directing the day's events with military precision."
Ron snorted and stuffed his head under his pillow. "See you in a bit mate," he mumbled.
Harry slumped back into bed and groaned, but softly so it wouldn't carry to Ron's ears. He hadn't really lied to Ron; it had been a not good dream, but only in the sense that 'good' didn't describe the dream with any justice. It had been the most incredible dream, and almost the most incredibly embarrassing experience. Thankfully, Ron had been oblivious.
Harry sighed. He loved Ron, he really did, and it was decent of him to come charging to the rescue when he thought Harry was stuck in nightmare land again, but any dream where Sirius was swaggering about dressed as a pirate was one he emphatically did not want to be woken up from. He had dreamed of himself and Sirius being forced to walk the plank by Wormtail and getting marooned on a desert island. They had been drinking fire whiskey and enthusiastically dancing round a fire singing Christmas carols when Sirius the Pirate had begun making advances. Harry had only been too happy to accept those advances and they had been at the very pleasurable stage of rolling about in the sand half-naked, kissing and groping when Ron had yowled like a demented banshee and Harry had been jolted awake.
He shook his head. Now he came to think about it, there was a similar scene in the film that had first started him seriously questioning his sexuality, and if he thought about it the piratical male lead did look just a bit Sirius-like. Harry moaned and pulled his quilt over his head; he was in way too deep. Now he'd have to go and act like a dutiful godson later on, all the while thinking about how delicious Sirius would look dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow. He sleepily wondered if it was possible to use a variant of the 'scourgify' charm on the horny part of his brain, before drifting back off to sleep and into the arms of the naughty and insatiable Pirate Sirius.
It seemed like only minutes to Ron before his roommates were up and about and his girlfriend was perched on the edge of the bed smiling at him. "Morning, Ron!" She chirped, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I thought you and Harry would be up by now, but you were snoring and Harry's clutching his pillow in a death grip, mumbling something about pirates."
Ron blinked at her and slowly sat up. "Pirates?"
"Apparently so," Hermione said happily, "Maybe he's been reading the book I leant him, there's a whole chapter devoted to the importance of piracy in the development of the current system of wizarding currency."
Ron simply stared. "It's too early to learn things, Hermione," he whined after a moment's thought. "Just give me another kiss and I'll get up."
Hermione smiled and gave him another quick kiss, which Ron unsuccessfully tried to prolong. "Now up!"
Ron grumbled but swung his legs out of bed, ensuring that this time he didn't plant his feet on anything other than the rug. As he lurched across the room to prod Harry awake his sister poked her head round the door. "Morning, Ronnie!" She said cheerily, "Neville, Dean, Seamus and Me are all just going down to breakfast. See you down there, alright?"
Ron nodded and looked down at Harry, who indeed had his pillow in a death grip; in fact, a few feathers seemed to be escaping from one end. "Oi, Harry!" Ron said loudly, giving him a gentle nudge in the ribs.
Harry just snuffled and cuddled the pillow tighter.
"Do you think we should've got him a teddy to cuddle for Christmas, or maybe a puppy?" He queried, as Hermione bustled past with an armload of his books.
"Mmm, puppy. Ooh Sirius," Harry mumbled.
Ron rolled his eyes, "Yeah, Sirius, who we will see later today if you ever drag your bum out of bed." He prodded Harry again. "Wake up you lazy git."
"Sirius?" Harry growled, rolling on top of the pillow as he did so, which then spewed out a few more feathers.
Hermione came and stood beside her boyfriend with a strange look on her face.
"Honestly, he just gets weirder," mumbled Ron before clearing his throat and bellowing, "Wake up!"
Harry jerked upright. "Man overboard!" He yelled, looking around wildly.
Ron collapsed into giggles and Harry turned pink.
"Pirates, huh?" Ron snorted. "I'm off to have a shower."
Harry smiled warily at Hermione. "Um… well… it was nice to have a sort of non-violent dream for once."
Hermione eyed him with the kind of scrutiny she usually reserved for interrogations about progress on homework.
"What?" Harry asked as innocently as possible.
"Sirius was in your pirate dream?" She queried, with a strange flickering in her eyes.
Harry knew that look only too well, it meant that Hermione's impressive brain was suffering from overwork again – and he was the subject.
"Um, so I'll just get up and pack and stuff then," he mumbled, absently ruffling his hair and stopping quickly when he followed Hermione's calculating line of vision. He tended to ruffle his hair when he was nervous or lying and she knew it.
"Harry," she murmured, sounding a little uncertain, "Don't be offended if I'm off target, but do you… have feelings for Sirius?"
Harry gulped and forced himself to sound bright and breezy. "Well of course I do! He is my godfather, you know."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. Harry froze like a small fat bunny on the track before the oncoming Hogwarts express. Oops, he thought, that was probably the wrong answer, as sarcasm and Hermione didn't really mix all that well.
"All right then, it seems that I was mistaken," Hermione said with a sniff, before turning back to Ron's trunk that she had been methodically re-arranging and adding books to.
"Great job, genius," Harry congratulated himself under his breath as he began laying out clothes to wear. In a strange fit of organisation he had neatly packed his own trunk the previous evening, leaving him with nothing to do besides shower, dress and eat. He stared at Hermione's stiff back and squirmed. What could it hurt to tell her a little about his feelings? She wasn't the sort to blab, even by mistake, and it might iron things out in his own head. "Hermione?"
She glanced briefly over her shoulder. "Yes?"
Okay, so she was still pissed off. "I… uh, you were kind of on target actually."
"Really?" Her face lit up and for a moment Harry felt hopeful that his feelings weren't as silly as he thought. Then he remembered how much Hermione liked to be right and the hope ebbed away.
"I'm being insane, aren't I?" He burst out. "Hell, I'm being pretty disgusting really, lusting after him. He'd hate me if he knew."
Hermione shook her head. "Sirius wouldn't ever hate you. Remember the time at the ministry?"
Harry shuddered. "How could I forget? Those were probably the worst few hours of my life when I thought he wouldn't make it."
"Exactly. He came so close to dying for you and he didn't even seem to care as long as you were okay, he cares that much about you. Think about it logically Harry. We don't choose who we fall for, so he wouldn't blame you for your feelings even if he wasn't at all interested in pursuing a relationship of that nature with you."
"The chances of which are about as likely as Voldemort being elected as the next Minister of Magic," Harry said sourly. "Oh wait, I forgot, being murderous and stupid doesn't preclude you from election."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Okay, sorry, it's just that I can't imagine that Sirius will ever look at me that way."
Hermione sat down and folded her arms before she fixed Harry with a meaningful stare. "Why not?"
Harry stared at her and windmilled his arms furiously in an attempt to convey just how deranged she was being. Hermione merely raised an eyebrow and waited for Harry to crack.
"Siri seems to have his knickers in a knot today," Tonks commented as Remus entered the kitchen in search of a late breakfast.
"He is looking forward to seeing Harry and seems to have got as worked up as ever," Remus agreed, helping himself to tea and toast. "In truth I fancy it may be best to avoid him in the immediate future."
"You're telling me," Tonks agreed fervently, sloshing juice from her mug as she moved to sit next to Remus at the kitchen table. "Have you seen his latest barmy enterprise?"
Remus took a large gulp of tea and eyed Tonks warily as her elbow knocked a plate precariously near the edge of the table. He rescued the plate without a word and sighed deeply, "I don't want to know, do I?"
"Probably not," Tonks said cheerfully through a mouthful of toast, "He's only gone and got Fred and George to deliver masses of those snowpuff thingys and has dumped them all over the tree and around the rest of the lounge. I went in and half expected to see some flipping penguins, but there's only a daffy dog. Looks pretty actually - I was quite impressed."
"I suppose he's buried all the presents too, instead of gift wrapping them like a normal person?"
Tonks shrugged. "Dunno, maybe."
"Wonderful, we'll all have to spend the next month scrubbing glitter from our persons if that is the case. I think I may go and have a word with him."
Tonks looked stricken and clutched his sleeve as he stood up. "Don't make him clean it up will you? It does look bloody good and I bet Harry and the others will enjoy it."
Remus smiled wearily and took a last bite of toast. "I wouldn't dare; besides, I very much doubt it would come off within the next couple of hours. Those snowpuffs are the very devil. In fact, I think I may still be twinkling very slightly from his last experiences with them."
Remus cautiously opened the door to the lounge and shook his head as crisp snowy glitter trickled out of the doorway and pooled sparkling around his worn shoes. "Padfoot, what exactly happened in here?"
Sirius appeared from behind the enormous Christmas tree practically vibrating with excitement. "I decorated, Moony my old chum! What do you think?"
Remus looked around and shook his head again. When his friend got an idea in his head he certainly went all out. The whole room sparkled and glistened from floor to ceiling. It looked like a fairyland.
"It certainly is different."
Sirius' face fell. "You don't like it?"
"I didn't say that," Remus began, but Sirius had swept on regardless.
"I overdid it didn't I?" He mumbled fretfully, scuffing at the sparkling fake snow beneath his feet, "I just wanted to give Harry a Christmas he wouldn't ever forget. It isn't like he ever had a good Christmas as a kid, with those rotten muggles, and the last few years have been miserable or hectic or we haven't been together…"
Remus shook his head sadly as his friend rambled on. Sirius was so transparent when you got to know him, and Remus had soon learned to see through him. "He'll love it," he told Sirius before his friend attempted anything drastic.
The look of pleasure that flashed across his face was pathetically hopeful before it was replaced with a genuine but restrained smile. "I hope so."
"He will. Harry will love anything that you do for him," Remus offered, carefully watching his friend's expression. Was it his imagination, or did Sirius look shifty all of a sudden? The slight blush decided him. This had been going on long enough and he needed to lay a few things to rest. It might have been better to get them out of the way before Harry himself was almost due to show up, but better late than never.
He watched as Sirius suddenly bounced across the room and carefully began coaxing more crystalline icicles into forming on the mantelpiece, which seemed to be the only bit of the room not currently completely glitter coated.
"Padfoot, you know I wouldn't judge you on it, but is there something between you and Harry?"
The icicle Sirius was working on shuddered and exploded and Sirius stared stupidly at the remains of it. "What do you mean?" He mumbled eventually as he got up with a very dangerous look in his eyes. It was the sort of look that told Remus he would be spending Christmas as a very large pink slug if he didn't watch what he was saying.
"You seem very excited to be seeing him again. I'll be glad to see him too, but I'm not in this much of a state, and some instinct tells me that there is just something more than meets the eye here."
Sirius scowled and fingered the wand he held. "What exactly are you trying to say?" He asked, trying and failing to sound angry. Instead he just sounded sad and resigned.
Remus took a deep breath. He was either about to make a breakthrough with Sirius or experience a sudden craving for lettuce. "That I don't think your feelings towards him are entirely platonic."
Sirius' shoulders slumped dejectedly and he slowly sat down where an armchair should have been. Unfortunately he had shrunk it earlier that day and plopped down heavily in the glittering snow instead. "I didn't mean to fall for him," he mumbled crossly.
Remus squatted down beside him. "I'm not blaming you Padfoot, although I can't precisely claim that I approve. But Harry is seventeen years old and as such is legally an adult, so if he were to develop an interest in you then that would be between you and him. Prongs and Lily only wanted you to look after him, and I don't think falling in love with him instead of just loving him in any way breaks your promise to them."
Sirius blinked as if this was something he hadn't considered. "But I'm so much bloody older than he is."
"Age is just a number Padfoot. You're only as old as the man you feel."
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Remus hurried on before Sirius started roaring indignantly. "Besides, although I'm sure you don't want to think about it, you did essentially lose over a decade in Azkaban. Emotionally you aren't really so very many years older than Harry, and with everything he has handled in his life I'd say he is very mature for his years."
Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times but nothing came out.
Remus patted him kindly on the shoulder, trying not to enjoy the sight of a dumbstruck Padfoot too much. "Try not to worry. Harry loves you, no matter what."
Sirius snorted and finally persuaded his vocal chords to function. "Sure, his godfather perving after him will give him lots of happy, loving thoughts."
"Honestly!" Remus exclaimed irritably. He had almost forgotten how Sirius could be simply impossible at times.
Sirius just scowled.