I hope you enjoyed the Prolouge! Just wanted to say a massive thank you to those who followed, faved or left a review! It means the world!
Here's Chapter 1 for you guys. It's so weird to write in Harry's POV as it's something that we all experienced when reading the actual HP books, so just a warning it will probably be quite different from J.K's style, haha. Also there are a few changes from canon, namely being that I've kept Remus, Tonks and Fred alive. I just couldn't face writing the fic without them!
Anyway, enjoy! (Sorry for the mistakes, I don't own anything but the OCs, all the usual stuff)
Tomorrow Never Came
Chapter 1
Sunday 2nd May 1999
5:27pm
Harry Potter glanced at the antique mirror which hung on the wall of his bedroom in Grimmauld Place. Without even thinking he subconsciously tried to flatten his unruly, dark hair but quickly realized that, as always, he was fighting a losing battle, so the eighteen year old lowered his hand and went back to buttoning up his navy-blue shirt.
It had been exactly one year since Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts and a family dinner at the Burrow had been planned for that evening in order to 'celebrate'. If Harry had had his way he wouldn't have been wearing a shirt, but between Mrs Weasley insisting that an effort was made and his Godfather, Sirius Black, wanting to take everyone out for drinks after they had eaten, Harry had decided that there was no point in arguing.
He let out a sigh. While understanding why people wanted to rejoice the demise of the Dark Lord, Harry just couldn't seem to psych himself up. A weird part of him thought it was still too soon after the Battle. Too soon to move on from the losses. But he knew that the majority of the Wizarding community preferred to focus on the happy fact that Voldemort was gone for good as opposed to the people they had lost. Everybody coped in different ways and that was fine of course, so while Harry may not have been looking forward to the endless toasts that would be made in his name that evening, or the reporters and paparazzi that would have somehow got word of where Harry was going to be that night, he was looking forward to seeing the people that mattered most to him.
So much had happened in the year since the Battle that Harry almost found it hard to believe. Wizarding Britain, which for two years had been living in constant fear of the Dark Lord, found itself free, and there had been so much that needed reconstructing. The main priority had been figuratively rebuilding the Ministry of Magic after it had been released from the clutches of Voldemort. Kingsley Shacklebolt had recently been instated as the new Minister and had been working tirelessly ever since.
Harry's beloved school Hogwarts was also being rebuilt but in a much more literal sense, seeing as it had been where the Battle had taken place. Progress was well underway, in fact it was inching closer to completion every day, and Hermione had already decided that she wanted to return to the school in order to finish her final year and earn her N.E.W.T's once repairs were finished. A small grin played on Harry's face at the thought. Unlike his bushy haired companion, both he and Ron had decided that they wanted to jump straight into Auror training. Despite not having the grades that would have normally been required for the job (or any at all for that matter), the two friends had been accepted onto the course instantly, and they were quickly beginning to adapt to its intense training and schedule.
"Hey Harry?" Sirius' voice suddenly called from somewhere in the belly of the ancient house. The teenager had to strain his ears so that he could hear him clearly.
"Yeah?" He called back, sauntering over to the open bedroom door so that he had a better chance of hearing what his Godfather wanted.
"Can you grab my wand for me? I think I left it by my bed!" The voice shouted back, and Harry left out a soft chuckle. Of course Sirius would leave the one item he couldn't simply accio way up on the highest floor of the house.
"Yeah no problem!"
Seeing as he had all but finished getting ready, Harry made his way straight out of his room and hurried over to the grand staircase. He started to climb, and when he reached the topmost floor of Grimmauld Place he pushed open the creaky door that had the nameplate 'Sirius' upon it and entered the spacious room.
Harry thought back to the first time he had ever set foot in Sirius' bedroom. It was during the brief time he, Ron and Hermione had spent living in the house at the start of their hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes. He remembered the letter he had found from his Mother to Sirius, and Harry felt his heart clench. He quickly shook the memories from his mind. Today was meant to be a happy occasion, Harry didn't want his mood to darken even further. No one would have been impressed with him for that. He quickly diverted his thoughts back to his Godfather.
Harry wasn't sure whether Sirius was still celebrating the end of the War or his new-found freedom, but he did know that for the past year his scarred, tattooed Godfather was certainly making the most of having his name cleared. This essentially involved going out partying practically every night and wooing as many women as he possibly could. If he was being honest Harry really couldn't blame Sirius for trying to have some fun. After spending twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit and then another four forced into hiding, Harry thought that Sirius deserved to be able to let his hair down and go wild.
However, as a hilarious result of this, Sirius' newly cleared name (or his other title of 'the Wizarding World's newest eligible bachelor' as he was also commonly referred to) had been cropping up more and more in various newspapers and magazines, particularly Witch Weekly, much to everyone's amusement.
Sirius, being the peacock that he was, was very much enjoying the attention and the perks it was providing. As well as dramatically improving his sex life, Sirius had also been presented with several impressive career opportunities. One of them, for example, was an advertisement campaign with the fragrance company Scentric which resulted in him being the face of their new cologne 'Solar'. This was how Sirius' mug had originally become plastered throughout nearly every girly Witch magazine in England.
Harry remembered when Sirius had first shared the news that he was 'becoming a hot new model' with Harry and Remus over breakfast one morning. Harry had been sure that Sirius was joking, while Remus had, in pure shock, burst out laughing and spat tea all over Sirius, who had been sitting opposite him with the Werewolf's young son Teddy perched on his lap. "Well it will make a refreshing change from the Azkaban's Most Wanted posters." Remus had laughed afterwards while he was wiping a sulking Teddy's tea soaked face down with a wet wipe.
However more impressively than the cologne campaign ("If you can believe it." Sirius would say) he had also managed to land a job as a prime time Quidditch Commentator! At first the International Quidditch Association seemed to have offered Sirius the job because his name was everywhere and, due to his frequent appearance at multiple Quidditch matches, he seemed to have a keen interest in the sport. But after his first few jobs, the I.Q.A soon realised that Sirius seemed to have a natural gift for commentating and he had shot to fame after being promoted to cover every Quidditch match of importance in the United Kingdom, alongside the legendary Quidditch Announcer Eric O'Byrne.
To say Sirius had been star struck was an understatement. Before moving into the world of commentating, Eric had been a Chaser for Sirius' favourite team the Appleby Arrows. He had been known for his slick, unpredictable moves and overall cool, collected style, and according to Remus, when the Quidditch star had announced his retirement from the game in 1977, during the Marauders sixth year at Hogwarts, Sirius had sulked for two weeks straight.
Now in May of 1999, Sirius Black, the national celebrity playboy, seemed to be living the dream. However as Harry cast a glance around Sirius' bedroom he couldn't help but think it hardly screamed 'playboy' to him. It still looked like the bedroom of a rebellious teenager who wanted to piss his parents off. The Boy Who Lived shook his head in amusement. Some things never changed.
Getting back to the matter at hand, Harry assumed that Sirius' wand would likely be around his bed somewhere because besides sleeping or... 'entertaining', Sirius rarely spent any time in his bedroom.
He started picking his way through the room towards the large, unmade bed, keeping an eye out for the resin wand as he did so. However as Harry reached the bed stand something caught his eye… something that looked oddly out of place sat on top of the bedside cabinet.
An old, battered looking shoebox.
Now normally Harry wouldn't have thought twice about it. Plenty of people kept the shoebox in which a pair of shoes came in so that they stayed in good knick, but this box looked to be about as old as Harry himself, and rather embarrassingly the raven-haired teenager knew for a fact that Sirius hadn't bought any shoes recently, brand new or vintage. This was down to the fact that Sirius had an interesting habit of showing off his purchases after a shopping spree, essentially putting on a fashion show for whichever unfortunate sod happened to be in Grimmauld Place at the time ("What do you expect? I am a top model after all." The Animagus would shrug nonchalantly whenever questioned about it.)
So that's why Harry couldn't resist having a peek in the mystery box.
He tentatively picked it up (years of friendship with Hagrid subconsciously playing on his mind) and felt the contents rattle and roll around ever so slightly. Definitely not shoes. Harry perched himself on the edge of Sirius' bed as he pulled the cardboard lid away from the box and peered inside.
He found himself staring down at a mixture of various knickknacks and photographs. Harry gently started fingering through the items and found himself drawn to the collection of polaroid and Wizarding photographs, always excited to see a glimpse of his parents and Sirius' past.
The first dogeared, weathered polaroid was of a handsome young Sirius, Harry recognised him instantly. He couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen. But he was not alone. Upon a dark patch of grass Sirius was reclined on his back, a lit cigarette between his fingers which burnt brightly in the evening air, and beside him lay a girl. Harry stared hard at the photograph, trying to gage who she was. She was very pretty. Her deep set, chocolate eyes were sparkling up at the camera. Her skin clear and smooth looking. Lips full and tugged up at the corners as she smiled softly. A maine of dark curls were spread out beneath her, just as volumous (but maybe a little tidier) than Hermiones. She was the one holding the camera, pointing it downwards to them.
Who was this girl? Was she a friend of Sirius'? If she was, did she know Harry's parents? Did they go to Hogwarts together? Where was she now?
Harry flipped over the photograph, hoping to find a scrap of information wrote on the back of it that would give him a clue as to who the girl was. Sure enough a small piece of text had been scribbled in the top left hand corner. 'First photograph, 1977' was all it read in thin, italic handwriting that Harry didn't recognise. That didn't really help him.
Harry carefully placed the photo down and picked up another one. He couldn't help but smile to himself as soon as he began to study the Wizarding photo. It once again featured a young Sirius and the mystery girl, but a gangly teenager that Harry could instantly tell was none other than Remus Lupin also accompanied them.
The three of them, dressed in dated Hogwarts uniforms, were sat cross-legged on a patch of grass. To the left of Sirius Harry could make out half of another person that had been cropped out of the frame, but from the messy black hair alone Harry could have guessed that it was his father.
Behind them was a mass of water that looked very much like it could be the Great Lake at Hogwarts, the sun reflecting and glistening off the surface. The three teenagers were laughing into the camera, obviously in the middle of an infectious joke. Turning the photo over Harry saw that the words 'Finally finished our N.E.W.T's! 1978' were etched onto the back of it. So this girl had gone to Hogwarts with the Marauders. It looked like she was also wearing a Gryffindor uniform.
Placing the photograph back into the box, Harry then moved onto the next Wizarding photo and he couldn't help inhale deeply at the first glance. Mystery Girl was sitting in the center of a large bed, clutching a thin white sheet to her nude chest. She was staring directly into the camera, laughing and smiling and even giving Harry a cheeky wink before bursting back into giggles once more. The rooms pale blue walls and the fluttering white curtains that hung over a nearby window made the whole scene look almost… heavenly.
Harry felt like he was intruding on a private moment as he eyeballed the picture. The girl, whoever she was, really was beautiful. Her smile was bright and looked like it could light up a room, and despite not being able to hear her, Harry would have bet that her laughter was akin to pure, unadulterated joy.
Unlike the previous two photographs this one didn't have anything written on the back of it, no indication of where or when the picture was taken. Putting it down with the others Harry then reached for the final polaroid, and upon the first glance he felt his heart skip a beat.
As well as the mystery brunette, who Harry had expected to see, he was also staring down at a radiant Lily Potter and a chubby little infant who, from the tufts of black hair and big emerald eyes, Harry guessed was himself.
The two women were standing in a cosy looking kitchen, both leaning against a worktop opposite one another. The tall brunette held the giggling baby in her arms, his tiny fists clutched tightly around her curls as she smiled down at him in adoration, completely ignoring any pain that he might have been causing from yanking on her hair, while the petite redhead (Harry hadn't realised that his Mother was that short before) watched the interaction with the utmost fondness in her amiable green eyes, a cup of tea grasped between her hands.
Harry stared. This woman hadn't just been a part of Sirius' and his parents lives… she had been a part of his life as well! He tentatively turned the photograph over. 'Our little Prongs 2.0. Definitely better than the original. 1981' it read. The teenager had come to assume that the handwriting belonged to the brunette in the photographs, and this polaroid showed that she had evidently cared for Harry very much. Why hadn't Sirius, or even Remus for that matter, ever mentioned her before?
Harry put the final photograph down with the others and peered back into the shoebox, both nervous and excited to see what other remnants of the past were hidden inside. He saw four more objects. First, Harry picked up a black silken handkerchief that had the initials 'S.B' stitched neatly into one of the corners. Harry figured he was correct in assuming that this belonged to his Godfather, but what could be so important about a plain old handkerchief that Sirius would keep it locked away?
Next Harry picked up a weathered piece of yellowing parchment that had been folded into four. He gingerly began to unfold it, hoping for it to be a letter or something that would give him a bit more insight as to who the mystery girl was, or her name at the very least. He was surprised, however, when he found himself looking down at a detailed pencil sketch of a huge black dog that he instantly knew as Sirius in his Animagus form. He was fascinated by the attention to detail in the drawing. From each individual hair to the sparkling mischief in the dog's eyes, Harry could see that a lot of effort had been put into it. A small signature of 'R.G' had been signed in the bottom right had corner.
Impressed, Harry refolded the drawing before picking up a silver zippo lighter. It had an engravement which read 'Merry Christmas Sirius. Love Ren x' on the side of it.
Ren.
That was her name. Harry couldn't help but think it suited her, even though he didn't know her. He wanted to find out more.
Moving onto the final item, Harry felt his eyes widen in shock. A small, round box made of crimson velvet sat before him. He felt confident he knew what sat inside. He picked it up, opened it and there, poking out of a plush bed of white satin, was an engagement ring. Beautifully crafted, Harry studied the stunningly intricate vintage details, admiring the prominent pear-shaped, yellow diamond and the glistening additional stones that were set into the silver band. It was an impressive piece of craftsmanship that was for sure. Breathtaking, almost.
As he stared Harry felt a few more pieces of the puzzle slot into place. It was obvious that this ring had been meant for Ren, and that Sirius had been the one intending to give it to her.
Harry had never known Sirius to be in a proper relationship, either before or after his stint in Azkaban, let alone one serious enough for the Animagus to have an engagement ring. Why hadn't this ring made it to the girl? Had they separated before Sirius could ask? Or, like many other loved ones, had Ren been killed in the war? Harry didn't know.
"I was wondering what was taking you so long." A voice suddenly said from behind him, and Harry was so startled he nearly jumped out of his skin. He shot to his feet, shoving the ring back into the shoebox with all of the other trinkets before spinning around to see the owner of the box himself, Sirius Black, standing in the open doorway, arms crossed over his chest and his gaze calm. He didn't appear to be mad that Harry had gone through his things, and the boy was relieved by that.
"Sirius, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" He began to stutter, but Sirius cut him off.
"-Harry it's fine." He started as he strolled into the room. "I left the box lying around so I can't exactly be angry can I?" He went on to ask.
The tattooed Marauder was obviously ready to leave for the Burrow. He was kitted out in a white fitted shirt, cuffs rolled up to his elbows, and dark jeans, managing to look as effortlessly suave as ever. But when Sirius reached Harry and sat himself down on the bed, gently picking up the box, it was obvious he wasn't in a hurry to leave. Harry saw it as a que to join him, so he tentatively perched himself next to Sirius on the bed.
He didn't know what to say. Should he say anything at all? Broaching the subject of his Godfather's lost love was a tricky one that was for sure.
Sirius had the photographs in his hands and was flicking through them slowly, and Harry took the opportunity to study his face as he did so. The thirty nine year old had been through so much since the photos had been taken but he still had a surprisingly youthful exterior. Harry could see that he had grown from the boyishly handsome young adult in the photos to the striking, chiselled man that currently sat beside him. He could understand why women seemed to fall at Sirius' feet. His face was manly, his jaw strong. The faint lines of age seemed to suit him perfectly and gave him a distinguished air, yet there was a softness to his silver eyes and a gentleness to his smile which seemed to entice anything and everything.
He was tall and had (since putting back on a significant amount of weight in the past few years) broad shoulders which also worked in his favour. Sirius' thick dark hair now had a few streaks of silver running through it and it fell to just below his shoulders. All in all everything just seemed to work for Sirius. Harry put it down to his aristocratic Wizarding blood.
"What happened to her?" He finally managed to pluck up the courage to ask. For a moment Harry thought that Sirius hadn't heard him, because his Godfather simply continued to stare at the photograph he had settled on, the one of Ren in the bed. Just as Harry was about to clear his throat in an attempt to catch Sirius' attention, the Animagus let out a long sigh.
"I don't know." He confessed. "The last time I saw her was the night your parents died. I left her to go and check on them. I told her not to wait up for me, but she always did." It was more like Sirius was talking to himself instead of Harry. "But I never made it back to her. When… when I saw what had happened to your parents I- I just saw red and went after Peter."
Harry continued to listen with bated breath. "I should have gone back to her instead. I should have made sure she was safe." He felt his heart breaking for Sirius. The pain in his voice, the cracking of despair, was obvious. "Now I have no idea what happened to her. Whether she's alive or not. If she is she's probably married with a family."
"She might not be." Harry couldn't help but try and dissuade Sirius, however helpless it sounded.
"I couldn't stand it if she was. I know it sounds selfish Harry, but I just couldn't. Not when we nearly had a family of our own." Sirius confessed.
"You… you were going to have a baby?" Harry questioned, to which Sirius nodded.
"She was pregnant but… but she lost it in an accident."
How was is that Harry felt like he was only just getting to know his Godfather? How had he had absolutely no idea about this part of Sirius' life? "She would have been the best mum." Sirius said. "She just had this natural knack with kids. Babies especially. You loved her." He added, causing Harry to look up at him sharply. "She… she was your Godmother y'know."
Harry felt his jaw drop in surprise, and a small prickle of anger brewed within him for the briefest of moments. Anger that Sirius hadn't told him about the Godmother he never knew he had. But as quickly as it sparked it was extinguished. This was not about him. Sirius hadn't kept this from Harry with the intention to hurt him. He hadn't told his Godson because, if the pained expression on Sirius' face was anything to go by, it hurt him too much to talk about it.
Not knowing what had happened to the woman he had wanted to spend his life with had clearly left a part of Sirius feeling empty and incomplete. "I did want to tell you about her Harry, I really did, I just… it became easier and easier to pretend she hadn't ever existed." The Marauder said, running a tattooed hand through his hair.
"It's okay Sirius," Harry quickly interjected before Sirius could even think of apologizing. "Honestly I…" He began, but Harry couldn't help but lapse into silence as his mind flashed to Ginny. "I can't imagine what it's like Sirius, I really can't, but I'm sorry that you've lived with this on top of everything else." He managed to finish, and it was true. How was it that so much misfortune could befall just one man? And a good man at that.
Sirius wasn't looking at the photographs anymore, nor was he looking at Harry. He was staring blankly straight ahead at the window. The early evening light had caught his face and was playing across his structured features. He remained silent for a time until he eventually let out a deep sigh.
"Come on we need to get going or Molly will hex us seven ways from Sunday." He said matter-of-factly. Harry was momentarily caught off guard by the sudden change in subject, but the tone of Sirius' voice indicated that he was very much done with the conversation regarding Ren. He watched as Sirius jumped up from the bed, replaced the photos within the shoebox and quickly shut the lid over the painful memories.
And just like that Sirius' manner changed back to the carefree Casanova as quickly as if someone had flipped a switch within him. He turned back to Harry with a playful grin on his face, grabbing his wand (which had been sat on the bedside cabinet all along) as he did so. "I don't know about you but I'm gasping for a pint." He said, and with that the Marauder sauntered past Harry and out of the room.
Not until he heard Sirius' retreating footsteps begin down the stairs did Harry glance back over to the box that sat next to him. The box that seemingly contained a suppressed part of Sirius' life.
What was he supposed to do now? Just act as if he hadn't suddenly learnt about a long lost Godmother who happened to be the love of Sirius' life? Harry shook his head, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to drop it and move on. In all honesty when had he ever been able to do that?
His first instinct was to tell Ron and Hermione. He himself didn't know how to begin to process this news but Harry felt sure that with the help of his two friends they'd be able to shed some light on the situation, however it probably wasn't a good idea to tell them that evening at the Burrow. It would only distract from what the night was meant to be about. He'd tell them in the morning when they all had clear heads and could focus their full attention on the matter. Yes, that seemed like a good plan of action.
With that he rose from the bed and began to make his way towards the door, however he couldn't help but stop when he reached the doorway.
Casting a glance back over his shoulder Harry's green eyes landed once more on the box, and before he could even evaluate his next move he quickly scurried back over to it, lifted its lid and scanned the contents until he spotted the photograph he was searching for. The polaroid of himself as a baby, his Mother and Ren in the quaint little kitchen.
Harry swiftly snatched it up and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans, closed the lid and then finally hurrying out of the room.
It seemed like a new adventure was afoot.
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