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Chapter 22 – An Unexpected Offer

In the end, it was a simple ceremony. And long. And Sirius held his hand throughout.

It made it hard to focus. When Kingsley spoke of bravery and sacrifice, Harry could not help but recall his godfather's haunted face upon his Return. When Kingsley spoke of friendship, it inevitably caused Harry to ponder what lay beyond; some of the clear distinctions he had always known had evaporated into thin air within the course of a few days. Then again, perhaps it hadn't always been that simple. With a furtive glance to his his right, he forced himself to admit that maybe he had – over the years – managed to, a little too successfully, convince himself that whatever was going on between Ron and Hermione could wait. That it could be dealt with later. When everything else was done and the power of friendship had prevailed. But that was now and Harry had to face the truth. Change was hurling towards him, and fast at that.

And Sirius... Had they ever really been friends? More than friends? Less, even?

But that was too complicated. If things were truly changing there was no point in trying to decipher the past.

His godfather's profile was grim in the blend of the magical, golden light above and the general dreariness of the day. And it was unsettling and even a bit embarrassing but Harry suddenly wished the Minister would stop talking in that deep, comforting voice and end the ceremony so that Harry could kiss Sirius.

His godfather must have sensed his eyes on him for he turned his face to Harry's and though no particular expression passed over it, it was enough attention focused on him that Harry felt a bit guilty. Sirius' grey eyes were a perfect mirror of the enchanted light and Harry could not help himself. He held his godfather's gaze long enough to feel a thrill pass through him, and then another. There was a peculiar collection of power in Sirius' calm gaze and for a second time that day it made Harry almost breathless. Then Sirius turned back to face Professor McGonagall who was apparently taking Kingsley's place before the assembled guests.

Harry knew he should listen, knew very well that he should allow the moment to take hold of him. And he did. But he also had a sneaking suspicion that his and Sirius' mourning in private had done more for him than this gathering could ever do. Still, his heart swelled when McGonagall at last raised her eyes as if to appraise the crowd and – in a manner strongly reminiscent of Dumbledore – called her students to rally under the banners of solidarity, acceptance and comradeship. He appreciated, then, her previous uncharacteristic softness but was even more pleased that all of the sharpness and determination had not left her voice.

And it seemed that Harry was not the only one affected by her words. Here and there, in response, a low murmur of agreement erupted but it was not until Lee Jordan jammed his fist into the golden-tinged air and cried "Hogwarts!" that people began turning in their seats.

Professor McGonagall, seemingly unperturbed by this unscheduled display of emotion merely raised an eyebrow and stated sourly, "It grieves me to conclude, Mr Jordan, that it would appear that not even post-war circumstances are capable of instilling in you even the smallest appreciation of protocol."

Then there was laughter.

o.O.o

The tombstones were all identical, save for the names engraved on them. They were white, but unlike Dumbledore's crispy snow-white tomb, these stones were cut through with veins of powdery pink and soft grey. Endless rows of marble that could have weighed heavy on Harry's heart but, to his surprise, did not.

They left the Weasleys by Fred's stone by unspoken agreement. He and Sirius moved on, their eyes skimming the names, expecting and yet dreading... But in the end it was not the names that revealed the stone they were seeking but the woman beside it who turned to greet them.

Andromeda Tonks was wearing a bulky cloak and a pointed hat, and much like everybody else she looked unnaturally pale. But she stood with a straight back and as Harry drew closer, he saw the reason for why there was still a light in her eyes. In her arms, sleeping soundly was the baby. The son of Lupin and Tonks that they had all raised their glasses to in Shell Cottage so long ago.

He had no idea what to say.

But Mrs Tonks did, and she smiled. "This is your godson, Harry. Here is Teddy."

He was tiny. And his hair was a light brown. He lay with his small hands curled into fists but breathed softly. Harry looked up at Mrs Tonks, unable to swallow down the first words that came to him. "He, um, looks normal..."

But she didn't seem to take offence. Instead, much as though she had expected precisely such a reaction, she nodded softly. "When he sleeps. When he sleeps he has his mother's natural hair colour." She looked past Harry and added gently. "His mother's... and his father's."

Behind him, Harry could hear the sound of Sirius' breathing, suddenly strained. He turned to look at his godfather and fresh pain welled up in his chest. Sirius was staring at Teddy and Andromeda Tonks, his eyes shining with tears.

Mrs Tonks took a small step forward with her eyes still on Sirius. "Would you like to hold him, cousin?"

It was Harry's turn to stare. Very slowly the pieces clicked into place and he had to look again at the elderly lady before him. Her hair was the same light brown as her grandson's. Her eyes dark and yet bright.

Bellatrix's sister, he remembered, as though he had once forgotten. Maybe he had. Narcissa's sister.

Half a step behind him, Sirius was holding out his arms and as if in a trance, he accepted Remus' son into an uncertain embrace.

"Sometimes," said Mrs Tonks quietly. "I imagine that they can all see us. That my daughter is right here beside me. That her husband is beside her, and that Ted is looking up from his paper wondering when supper will be ready." She shook her head, blinking away tears. "And, you know what? Sometimes I think I am right."

After Sirius, it was Harry's turn to hold Teddy. The baby weighed nothing at all, it seemed to him, when he was settled in Harry's arms, but he began snoring. This earned Harry a cautious punch in the shoulder from Sirius. "He's already bored of you, Harry." And Harry grinned. Because he really could do nothing else in the face of Sirius' sudden glee.

They parted not long after that, Mrs Tonks once more pulling a corner of her cloak over Teddy and smiling at Harry. "You're welcome to see him any time you like," she said. "I know my daughter and son-in-law wished for you to be a part of his life." Then she looked up at Sirius. "I dismissed the rumours at first... I could not believe it but I'm pleased to see that I was wrong. You are welcome back, cousin. Most welcome back."

"I'd forgotten," Harry said quietly as they left the grave, threading a path through the stones. He knew people were watching him, casting curious looks at both him and Sirius. He evaded their eyes but still felt them on his back and his face.

Sirius was looking down at the ground as they slowly wound their way between the tombstones, walking in no particular direction at all. "She was always kind to me."

"She is happy you're back."

He nodded. Then, after a long silence, "Remus has a son, Harry. He actually has a son."

"Yeah... my godson."

To his surprise, Sirius threw him an odd glance. "Yeah..." A furrow appeared between his dark brows. "Harry... Does that...?"

The crowd was not dispersing yet. People were walking from grave to grave, now and again embracing, but mostly standing before the headstones in silent reverence. A low murmur lay like a mist around them.

"What?" Harry regarded him, uncomprehending, but Sirius only shook his head.

"Come," he said, "let's find a place to talk."

Harry followed his godfather away from the rows of tombstones and out in the field. It took him a while to realise that they were headed for a group of deep-green holly trees that might offer some privacy. Sirius glanced around before he circled them and found a fairly secluded spot between two heavy branches.

"Come here, Harry."

Nonplussed, Harry stepped up to his godfather and he guessed he expected an embrace of some sort for when Sirius made no move to touch him, he was disappointed. He tried to shake the feeling as best he could but it lingered, and a first spark of fear shot through his stomach.

"Listen... I am your godfather." After this initial statement, however, he fell silent.

"Yes...?" Harry agreed, wishing for that frown in Sirius' face to go away. "I know."

"Right." Sirius dragged a hand through his hair. He looked as though he was of a mind to choose his words very carefully and there was something worrying about that. "Listen, Harry... It's..." He drew a deep breath. "When I saw Teddy I realised that you are his godfather and that's... I mean, I'm your godfather and look at what we're... What I am doing to you..."

"What are you doing to me, Sirius?" Harry tried to catch his eye but the older man shied away.

"Too much." Sirius shook his head in apparent frustration. "Things no godfather should ever – under any circumstances – do to his godson."

The damp grass under Harry's feet was shifting. He swallowed. "But... it won't be that way with..." He didn't manage to finish his sentence. Teddy was a baby and the mere thought of him in some distant future–

No.

Instead, he stepped up even closer to Sirius. So close he could smell him. "I want you to do those things to me," he said softly. "Irrespective of any formal relationship we happen to have. I mean, we're not related, Sirius."

At that, Sirius finally met his gaze. There was a conflict brewing in his eyes but there was something else as well.

Passion. It hit Harry hard enough to make him miss his next breath.

"For that I am very relieved." Sirius' voice had dropped to a rough rush of warm air against Harry's skin.

"Me too," Harry almost whispered.

Sirius kissed him. And it was unlike any kiss that they had ever shared before. This one did not start out careful, but it wasn't hard either. It was all-consuming, Harry's dizzied brain concluded as his godfather's hands cradled his face, when fingers slid into his hair and cupped the back of his head to perfect the angle of the kiss. Sirius' tongue tasted Harry's lower lip at first but soon slid inside his mouth and his chest was pressed to Harry's. One of Sirius' hands found its way to the small of Harry's back and urged him closer still.

Sirius tasted of rain. That was all Harry could think of as his godfather used his godson's ink-blank hair to tug his head back and run his lips down Harry's throat. Tingles spread through Harry's body at the speed of light, making something in his very bones ache for more. Sirius' stubble rasped his skin but a wet tongue tip soon soothed the sting and Harry heard a soft moan fly past his own lips. His own hands searched for a way under Sirius' cloak and upon success, he wound his arms so hard around Sirius' waist that it almost hurt.

Sirius was kissing him again, sucking on his tongue, trying to capture it. Probably Harry's glasses were cutting into his face but he didn't seem to mind. Harry's hands travelled all the way up his godfather's back and down again, continuing past his waist when Sirius did nothing to stop him, and finally cupping his buttocks through his jeans. Sirius' moan filled him to the brim and Harry gave in, rubbing his crotch against Sirius' and finding that all his fears had evaporated.

That was when his godfather ended the kiss.

He was panting, his pupils dilated in the light of day and his mouth was red. "Harry," he breathed heavily, so gloriously heavy, "we can't."

Harry fought for air, fought to arrange his thoughts. "But..."

But Sirius, despite his wakening resolution, flashed a weak smile, "We're in a graveyard. At a funeral."

"Oh."

It took them some time to wind down. The rush of blood through Harry's veins kept suggesting that he take Sirius by the hand and Apparate them home immediately, but that would be wrong. Extremely wrong. "I never meant to..." he began, in an attempt to sort through his muddled instincts. "I know it's a funeral..."

"I know." Sirius was leaning back against a gnarled, leafless branch. "I know you know." Then he chuckled. "Look at us! Now you're the one apologising." He reached out and trailed a hand down Harry's cheek. "I think Remus would approve."

"You do?"

"Well... after the initial shock had subsided. After a couple of years." He gave a lopsided grin. "It's quite simple after all: he wanted me to be happy. You make me happy."

There were – Harry was quite sure – no words that existed that could describe the way those words made him feel. He adjusted his glasses, more to have something with which to occupy his hands rather than out of necessity. "And my dad?"

"Your dad..." Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"I thought it did," said Harry, eyeing Sirius carefully. "To you?"

"Yeah..."Sirius pushed himself off the branch. "But... They're not coming back. He nodded in the direction of the graves and his eyes grew distant. "They're gone, Harry. They're still here, in a way, of course, like Andromeda said, you know... But they're not coming back."

"Not like you did." Harry looked up at him. "You came back."

It seemed like ages before his godfather smiled. "I did." He caught Harry's hand and twined their fingers together. "And I've got you."

Harry smiled back and he never meant to say it but was somehow incapable of staying silent. "You've got me, Sirius. I know you can't say anything back but you know I love you and..."

Those grey eyes he could drown in. Sirius' smile was the foundation of his existence when he pulled Harry close and silenced him with a soft kiss. "If there's anything I know in this world it's that I love you." He lifted a hand and pushed Harry's hair off his forehead. "And... I'm in love with you." He ran the pad of his thumb over the bolt-shaped scar. "How could I not be?" Then he smiled again and planted a new kiss on Harry's lips. "That's a rhetorical question, no need to answer."

Harry only barely understood. He needed Sirius to clarify. Or possibly to repeat. "You...?"

"I was an idiot for somehow thinking that I needed the time to see it," Sirius murmured softly. "I'm done with mourning, Harry. That is what I see now. I want to move on, and I want to do it with you."

"But... Just like that...?"

"I told you: it's all quite simple really." Sirius grinned at him. "Do you have any objections?"

"No..." Harry felt Sirius' grasp on his hand, felt the warmth of his godfather's body seeping into his own. "No," he shook his head, "No, I don't."

"Good." Sirius shook back his hair from his face. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised it took me a funeral to realise it. I've always had an extraordinarily dramatic persona," he winked.

Harry could not help his grin. Still... "You're mad. You know that, right?"

"That's what everybody's always told me."

Sirius began pulling him out from under the sheltering branches. Harry followed like in a dream. He was floating, flowing after his godfather as they emerged from the greenery. Sirius still held one of his hands and with the other he reached out to straighten Harry's cloak. His fingers, however, found their way into Harry's hair and he smiled and opened his mouth to say something. But Harry never got to find out what that was because through the air cut a very familiar voice:

"Ah, Mr Potter. Mr Black. If you are quite done professing your eternal love for one another, perhaps we might have a word?" And there, only ten paces away, with her mouth in the customary thin line, stood Professor McGonagall.

The heat leapt into Harry's face so fast that he for a few panicked heartbeats wondered if he might explode. Sirius' hand was gone from his hair but for once Harry was too focused on someone else to register the loss of touch. The Headmistress of Hogwarts was scrutinising them both over the rim of her square spectacles, her fine eyebrows slightly arched over the sharp green eyes.

"I take it that the reason for this..." she made a restrained gesture with her hand towards them, "apparent need of concealment is due to the fact that the true nature of your relationship is some sort of secret?" And not waiting for an answer, she continued crisply, "And I presume that you both would appreciate it if I chose to not address this subject in the company of others?"

Harry, whose stomach was desperately trying to decide if Transfiguring itself into a lump of ice or simply imploding was the best course of action, could not for the life of him comprehend from where Sirius dug out a blazing grin for Professor McGonagall. "Would you be a dear?" He glanced over at Harry. "There's still some that needs to be settled."

Professor McGonagall seemed unimpressed. "And furthermore, Mr Black, I presume that one day you will provide me with a reason for which I might tell you that I am pleased to see you alive and well?"

But Sirius' grin only widened. "You were always a darling, Minerva."

She made a noise in between a huff and a snort, but made no further comment on the matter. Instead she turned her attention to Harry. "Potter, I have a proposition for you."

Harry wished his face would cool down and he was not sure he remembered how to speak properly. In the end, he managed an "Oh?" Then cleared his throat. "I mean, you do? Professor," he added for good measure.

This did not appear to soften the lines in her face but she thankfully refrained from commenting on his inability to summon some semblance of dignity. "Yes. For you and for every one in your year who did not complete their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. I am offering you to return to the school and finish your education."

Harry only looked at her dumbly. Return to Hogwarts? To school? To classrooms and homework and meals in the Great Hall and maybe even his old four-poster bed... To Quidditch?

"I... I can't."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, Potter, you 'can't'?"

"I..." Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other and swallowed uncertainly. His heart was beating an uncomfortable, irregular rhythm. His gaze darted to Sirius who was watching him with wide eyes. "I can't leave Sirius," Harry said quietly.

It took forever before his godfather frowned. "Harry," he said equally quietly, gently, "I'll be fine. This is a good thing. You always loved Hogwarts."

At those words, Harry felt a strike of pain through his breast. Yes, he had always loved Hogwarts but now... Now I love you.

Sirius took a small step closer. "Listen," he continued, in an almost fatherly fashion, "it's the clever thing to do, Harry. Take your N.E.W.T.s. It'll give you some time to think about what's next."

Harry could not believe him. Sirius was actually standing in front of him telling him to go back to Hogwarts?

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "If I remember correctly I recall you once stating, and quite adamantly too, Potter, a desire to become an Auror...?"

"I don't want that any more." And he knew, the moment the words were spoken – the very second they left him – that it was true.

"Harry..." Sirius laid a hand on his shoulder, but Harry shrugged it off. Briefly, he thought he saw hurt in his godfather's grey eyes and a distant part of him rejoiced in an ugly way.

"I don't want it." He looked at them both in turn, lifting his chin just a little. "I've seen enough of it. Of it all. Enough death. I don't want to have anything more to do with it."

A deep furrow had appeared between Professor McGonagall's eyes but she did not say anything. Sirius, on the other hand, tried once more to reach for him, his fingers brushing Harry's cheek.

"Harry..." he repeated softly. "You don't have to become an Auror, but..."

"But?" Harry echoed him, feeling a swirl of rage rising within. "You want me to go? You've just come back, Sirius! And now you want me to leave?"

His godfather opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He sighed, his hand falling back. "I'm not... Of course not, Harry. But it's the sensible thing to do..."

Sensible? Sirius Black was being sensible? Harry stared at him. "So I'd see you again at Christmas?" It came out sounding harsh.

"May I remind you, Potter, that term does not start until the first of September?" Professor McGonagall said calmly.

But that didn't matter. Not if Sirius wasn't ultimately going to ask him to stay.

"Harry..." Sirius tried again, but he pulled away – with the distinct feeling that they were observing him, much like grown-ups would watch a petulant child. He knew he was being very rude when he turned his back on them but he could not stop himself.

"Very well, I will give you some time to consider your answer," Professor McGonagall said finally. There was a moment of nothing but dull aching in Harry's heart before he heard her stride briskly away.

A dense silence lowered itself over the grass. Harry's sudden burst of anger was dissipating, trailing a fast-deepening feeling of shame in its wake. He heard Sirius' sigh somewhere nearby. Harry's stomach was tying itself into a hard knot and he felt ill. When his godfather stepped up behind him and loosely wrapped his arms around his waist he was afraid he would start crying.

"Oh, Harry..." Sirius' murmur ghosted over his cheek. "Of course I don't want you to leave."

"Then why did you say so?"

"I didn't." Sirius pulled him closer and dry lips brushed Harry's temple, just above his glasses. "I wouldn't. But there is some measure of reason to this." He spoke very gently. "Can't you see that?"

"No," said Harry, obstinately.

At that, Sirius actually chuckled. "All right. Let's leave it, for now." Ever so cautiously, he spun Harry around in his arms until they stood face to face. A couple of fingers under Harry's chin forced him to meet his godfather's eye. "I meant what I said earlier, Harry. I'm in love with you. I want to keep you with me."

A part of Harry cherished those words – practically worshipped them – but in this moment it still hurt too much. "Can we go home?"

Sirius lifted his eyes to scan the expanse of the graveyard. "Shouldn't we say goodbye to everyone?"

But Harry only shook his head and stepped up to press into Sirius' broad chest. "Let's just go."

When his godfather's arms came round him again to hold him tight, he closed his eyes.

TBC