This was originally posted on my tumblr but I really love it so I thought I would post it here as well. The prompt for this oneshot was "what if Harry had gotten angry after Sirius told him in OotP that he was 'less like his father than he thought'?" This is just my take on how that situation might have played out; I hope you enjoy it!

"Alright, alright, I've got the point," said Sirius. He looked most displeased. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together—"

"I would, I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!" said Harry.

There was a pause in which Sirius looked out from the fire at Harry, a crease between his sunken eyes.

"You're less like your father than I thought," he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pages 304-305.

Hermione gasped to Harry's left and Harry felt color rising to his cheeks at Sirius's brash comment. He narrowed his eyes at Sirius, who stared back from the flames with equal determination. Beneath his anger at what his godfather had just said, Harry felt more hurt than anything and was shocked that Sirius would deal him what he knew was a very low blow.

"Yeah?" he asked quietly, challengingly, and he heard Hermione murmur something hurriedly to Ron before the two of them got up and left the vicinity.

Sirius's eyes flickered away from Harry's for a split second before he made eye contact again and saw that Harry was daring Sirius to defend himself.

"James hated being separated from his friends, is all."

"And I don't, is that it?" said Harry coldly, trying to fight back the lump rising in his throat. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, I've got my two best mates with me, thanks."

With that, Harry followed Ron and Hermione's lead and left the fireplace. He didn't wait to see if Sirius stuck around at all, but a soft pop in the hearth gave him his answer.

Harry's mind was reeling; it was just an offhand comment, he kept telling himself. Sirius is cooped up, he's not himself. But what he had said touched a nerve—no, of course Harry was not James, but he'd looked up to his father his whole life without ever having gotten the chance to properly know him, and to be told that after all this time he wasn't doing his father's memory justice felt like getting hit in the face with a Stinging Jinx.

Harry didn't write to Sirius again; even if Umbridge hadn't been screening all incoming and outgoing mail, Harry didn't think he would want to hear from his godfather and he surely had nothing to say to him.

"It's petty, you know," Hermione kept telling him over breakfast each morning that Hedwig dropped off the paper, but no correspondence from 'Snuffles.' "What if something happened, and the—"

"Last thing I said to him was an insult, I got it, Hermione, thanks," said Harry dully.

She was right, though, and the silence between Harry and Sirius grew louder by the second. He hated not having the one person outside Hogwarts he could trust, but he couldn't shake his upset mood. Besides, however rude it came across, Harry was certain Sirius had gotten the message that under no circumstances did he, Ron, or Hermione want him to leave home. It was simply too dangerous, and regardless of how much that would have excited James, Sirius had made it clear he thought Harry was different.

Back at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Sirius was sulking more than ever.

"You can't expect me to help you if you won't even tell me what happened," said Remus slowly, as if talking to a child. He'd come to visit Sirius in the hopes of cheering him up, not to be subjected to hours of moping. He got enough of that from Sirius every other day. "Come on, Padfoot, it can't have been that bad."

Sirius glared at Remus, but all the anger he felt was directed at himself. It had been offhand, what he said about James, but he should have known it would carry more weight for Harry.

"I talked to Harry through the Floo last week," he grumbled.

"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you how dangerous that was, so just go on," Remus sighed.

"I suggested meeting up in Hogsmeade, you know, as Padfoot," Sirius said nonchalantly, and Remus dropped his mug of tea, which shattered.

"Reparo," he said hastily, and the cup flew back into his hand, though it was now empty. "You what?!"

Sirius waved Remus off; he didn't want to hear it. "Don't get your wand in a knot, Harry said no."

"As he should have!" Remus spluttered. "That's the most idiotic-" he stopped when he saw how Sirius's face had contorted into a grimace that was very unbecoming on him, but seemed to be his default expression ever since getting shut up in Grimmauld Place. It couldn't be easy, missing out on a world that was so accessible to everyone else. "Sorry. Just tell me what happened."

Sirius heaved a sigh. "I told him he was less like James than I thought, because James would have loved the idea."

Remus was shocked into silence, and then he felt anger bubbling up in him. "Why would you ever say that to him?"

"Because it's true!" Sirius replied, raising his voice. "He's not a risk-taker like James, he's-"

"Got sense, Padfoot! He's got some damn sense in him, and on top of that he's sensitive. I would know, I spent a whole year teaching him!"

Sirius sneered; he hated being reminded that he'd missed out on so much of Harry's life because of his time in Azkaban. "Go on then, Moony, tell me how much time you get to spend with my godson, I'd love to hear all about how chummy you two've gotten while I'm shut in here doing nothing!"

"Well, it'll be pretty hard for you two to be 'chummy' if all you do is compare him to his dead father!"

It was Sirius's turn to be at a loss for words and he gaped at Remus's harsh, but in many ways accurate, remark.

"He's your godson, he wants to be close to you," Remus said earnestly after a moment. "Let him."

Sirius furrowed his brow. "We are close."

Remus shook his head. "Not as close as you should be. Talk to him."

"I just want him to know that-"

"Tell Harry, not me," Remus said sharply. Sirius recoiled like a dog that had been kicked, and Remus's face softened. He got up from his chair in the kitchen and Vanished his mug, then crossed the narrow space to where Sirius was leaning against the counter, looking dejected. Remus clapped a hand on his shoulder first, then after a second thought he pulled a very reluctant Sirius into a tight hug. "You know you owe him an apology, but if I were you I'd make it more than just 'I'm sorry.'"

Sirius took a deep breath and nodded. He had never been very good at heart-to-heart conversations, but he couldn't bear the silence between himself and Harry and wanted desperately to fix it.

However, annoyed by their stalemate as Sirius was, he was also stubborn and refused to be the one to break it by reaching out to Harry via owl post. Therefore, he didn't even try to speak to Harry until the Christmas holidays, and even then he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore. Having the house full of people put Sirius in such high spirits that he found himself going for hours at a time without even thinking of his and Harry's spat. Maybe Harry had let it fade away too, he thought hopefully, but if he knew his godson at all, that wouldn't be the case.

Almost everyone would be staying the night at Grimmauld Place, another thing that made Sirius feel, for once, appreciated and useful. He'd spent the week leading up to the holidays cleaning—Kreacher was hardly any real help at all—and all of the guest bedrooms were left as spotless as decades-old musty rooms could be. Sirius had arranged the largest one for Harry and Ron to share, but he found that after everyone else had gone to bed on Christmas Eve, his godson was not among them.

Sure enough, Harry remained in the kitchen downstairs even as the clock struck eleven, running his thumb along the label of a butterbeer bottle he'd finished long ago. He'd been on edge ever since arriving at Grimmauld Place, which had never been the case before.

Sirius stopped in the doorway anxiously and Harry looked up at the sound of the floorboards creaking, then promptly looked back at the bottle in his hand. "Hullo," he said sullenly.

"I thought you'd be in bed," Sirius said, taking Harry's greeting as permission to enter the tiny kitchen. "I used to practically sleep through school breaks," he continued with an attempt at humor. Harry jumped at the horrendous screech of wood on wood as Sirius unceremoniously dragged a chair up next to him and sat down.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment, Harry slouching in his chair looking grim and Sirius sitting backwards in his, his arms resting on the back of it as he stared at Harry, who refused to meet his eyes.

"I know you're upset with me," Sirius said slowly.

"Do you know why?" Harry replied.

"I've got a hunch. Listen, I didn't mean for what I said to sound so…I don't know, like an insult," Sirius said lamely. Bloody hell, he was shit at apologies.

Harry scoffed. "Then it just came off as one by coincidence, did it?"

"Come off it," Sirius objected. He was trying to get through to Harry, who was just sitting there like a stone wall and acting as though this was the largest grievance that had ever befallen him. With a pang, Sirius was reminded of how James used to act the same way—he never shouted when he was angry, but became stoic and impassive instead. "Harry, your father and I were best mates, I don't need to tell you that, you already know. Not a day goes by that I don't miss him, and being here—" he gestured around at the walls of the house— "it's maddening; it's made me see how your father must have felt when you were all in hiding. I was frustrated and I shouldn't have taken it out on you, I'm sorry."

He tried to read Harry's expression, but the boy's head was bowed and his overgrown hair was hiding his face. Harry didn't know what to feel. Deep down he understood Sirius's irritation completely, and he couldn't imagine losing Ron the way Sirius had lost James. Harry did, however, know exactly what it felt like to grow up fatherless, and anytime Sirius mentioned James made Harry not only angry, but jealous because he could not share in that reverie.

"It's just," Harry finally said, and Sirius straightened up a little as if that would help him better hear what his godson was going to say. "Sometimes I think you wish you got him back, but you just got me instead."

The words left Harry's mouth before he could stop them, and when he finally did look up at Sirius, the latter looked older and more defeated than ever.

"Harry," Sirius said, his voice raspy, "finding you, and being a part of your life, is my greatest accomplishment. Don't for one moment think I'm not grateful for every second since we first met in the Shrieking Shack. I know all too well how fast someone can be ripped away, and I would never, ever take you for granted."

Sirius looked at Harry pleadingly; it wasn't like him to be this emotional, or to show his vulnerability to anyone, let alone a teenage boy he knew looked to him for strength and guidance, not weakness. But it had occurred to him that despite knowing Harry the better part of two years now, Sirius had never made it clear just how much knowing him meant.

"You and your father are not the same person," Sirius said quietly, "but it is astoundingly clear you are James's son."

Harry was nodding and trying to take Sirius's words in without showing emotion, but he couldn't hide the two tears that escaped his eyes, try as he did to catch them with his sleeve before Sirius noticed. He drew a shaky breath and looked at Sirius, who grasped Harry's shoulder and pulled him to his feet, then into a hug that was both fatherly and friendly—something only Sirius could achieve.

"I wish I'd known him," Harry mumbled thickly, and he felt Sirius nod as they embraced.

"I wish you had, too. It's cruel that you didn't get the chance."

Harry and Sirius finally broke apart and Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulders with a pained smile. Harry sat back down and Sirius went to the cupboard he only ever opened for special occasions, which were few and far between these days. He grabbed a bottle and two crystal glasses and came to sit with Harry again.

"What's that?" Harry asked, wrinkling his nose at the dusty decanter.

"Firewhiskey," Sirius said with a strange reminiscent fondness in his voice. "It was our favorite, James and me. Of course, we drank it years before we knew how," he laughed, and Harry managed a smile at the thought. "I figure you're old enough by now."

"Thanks," said Harry. He took the glass from Sirius and sipped it tentatively—he knew what firewhiskey was, of course, but had yet to try it.

His eyes widened and he coughed out sparks as the drink burned his tongue slightly. Sirius chuckled and took a gulp from his own glass like an old pro. He readjusted himself in his chair and took a deep breath as Harry went for another sip, swallowing it with more ease this time. He couldn't help but feel warmer, and not just from the firewhiskey. He didn't know how much he needed this until that moment: sitting with his godfather, bloody hell, drinking with his godfather and treating each other like friends who were really spending time with each other.

"So," Sirius said, breaking the momentary silence. "What do you want to know?"

"About what?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"About James," Sirius replied, and Harry's heart started pounding a mile a minute. He felt a rush of emotion towards Sirius; he'd always assumed he didn't really want to talk at length about James, or couldn't because it was too painful, but there he was, sitting right in front of Harry and inviting the questions Harry only dreamed of having answered.

"Everything!" Harry blurted out, accidentally spilling a little bit of his drink in his excitement.

Sirius gave a short, bark-like laugh. "Can you be a little more specific?"

"How did you meet?" Harry asked immediately. He could barely contain himself! "When? How many Quidditch House Cups did he help win? How did you make the map, when did—"

"Hold your hippogriffs," Sirius said amusedly, raising his hands to slow the slew of questions pouring from Harry's mouth. He paused and looked Harry over, and felt like he was really seeing his godson for the first time—he looked both eager and woebegone, and Sirius felt a twinge of guilt at having taken so long to reach this point with him. This kind of closeness was what they had always teetered on the edge of, but they never really had the time to bond until now.

"I'll get to it all, I promise you," Sirius said poignantly. "We've got all night."

Oh my heart /3 Let me know what you though of this, and if there's anything else you'd like to read!

-C