Part XVI

Sirius Black was in muggle jeans, a faded Offspring t-shirt, and a leather jacket that was just a bit too big for him when Tom arrived. Tom took one look at the way the other man zipped up the front of said jacket and realized he may as well have been wearing a security blanket.

"We can push it back another day if you're not ready," he said.

Sirius shook his head. "His birthday is in a week. I need to meet my kid. Figure out how close he is to Lily's relatives-"

"He isn't."

"-and let him decide how we're going forward," Sirius finished. "If everything you've told me about Lily's family is true, not that I think it isn't, then I still want to give him the choice. I'm not gonna tear his life apart just because I want custody of my godson."

Tom raised an amused brow. "You know this whole 'Gryffindor chivalry' is almost more annoying when you've been forced to dwell on your impulses before committing them."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, well, I wasn't supposed to go to Gryffindor. I rejected Slytherin to spite my parents and because I had no interest in playing politics. Still can't bloody stand that bit, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to play the game."

Tom's cat-that-caught-the-canary grin made Sirius tilt his head. "What're you so damn smug about?" he asked.

"I'd momentarily forgotten how much you have in common with your godson," said Tom. "Nothing to worry about. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," he said.

Tom and Sirius stopped outside the drawing room's double doors after arriving at Malfoy Manor.

"Still sure you're ready?" asked Tom.

Sirius tried not to focus on the quiet voices on the other side of those doors and nodded. "How annoyingly crowded is this party of my cousin's going to be?" he asked. "I'm here for my kid, not to put on a show."

"Harry, Hermione, Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius for today," Tom said. "You can meet some of the other Order members before summer ends and Remus has started looking for the means to contact you aside from an owl. I can help him find his way whenever you're ready."

"Right then," said Sirius. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He followed Tom into the room and quickly scanned it. As he noted the exits and verified the headcount Tom had claimed, movement caught his eye.

Tom was greeting everyone quietly in front of him, but Sirius was only paying attention to the boy with dark hair whose anxiety was most obvious in the way he clutched the hand of the girl beside him. The pair were standing beside Narcissa's sofas, and Sirius could only guess that Harry had inherited Lily's inability to sit still when she was nervous.

Narcissa and Lucius played their parts with Tom, politely ignoring the silent, emotionally charged staring contest between a man who'd lost everything and a boy who hardly had anything to lose.

He may have had James' features and hair, and Lily's eyes, but his guarded expression was uniquely Harry. His posture was all his own, entirely foreign to Sirius, but somehow comforting in spite of the fact.

Tom had implied it, but Sirius recognized a pretend-Gryffindor when he saw one. And he saw two. The girl could've been his sister for how stubbornly her curls refused the ponytail she'd pulled them into. And the way Tom looked her over, talked about her, made him remember that he'd mentioned having a sponsee during their first conversation. He'd still been in a cell when they spoke about it and Tom had used that mutual sense of responsibility to segway into talking about Harry. Later, after Sirius was being confined to more pleasant living conditions pending the results of his trial, Tom kept referencing Harry's 'sister' and calling it a slip of the tongue.

I'm used to hearing her refer to him as her brother. They get along so well, they may as well be family. You'll see.

Sirius was glad for Tom's obviously Slytherin cunning, but he was far from the only Pureblood-raised wizard in the room. Harry's friend, Tom had called her Hermione, if Sirius' memory served, shared mannerisms with Riddle that made Sirius suspicious. How long had he been sponsoring the girl? Why did she take after him so obviously? They didn't look like they could be related, but maybe she took after a grandparent from her mother's side?

He'd ask Tom about it later.

After returning his attention to Harry, Sirius took a calming breath before he spoke. "I don't expect you to remember me, but I want you to know that I remember you." He stopped briefly to swallow his emotions. "You were barely walking the last time I saw you. You didn't even come up to my knee."

He watched Harry swallow and wince. Another Lily-ism. Her throat had always constricted to the point of pain when she was upset in any way.

"I…I remember a bit," Harry said. He sounded like James, but at the same time he didn't. "Hagrid gave me a photo album at the end of my first year. It jogged some memories and I…I know we had a cat. I remembered playing with it a few times when I saw the pictures…" He took a shaky breath and Sirius waited patiently.

Talk it out, Kid. I'm listening. Take your time.

Harry frowned before he spoke up again. "How come there weren't any pictures with the dog?"

Sirius blinked, stunned, and tried to ignore the way his heart had started to pound. "You didn't have a dog," he said slowly.

Harry shook his head, his forehead creasing further as Lily's stubbornness came to the surface. "We did," he insisted. "It was black it laid in my crib with me sometimes…for kips or something, I suppose."

Sirius tried in vain to combat the burning in his eyes. "You remember that?" he whispered.

And the girl -Hermione- proved that she was just as sharp as her sponsor. "You're an Animagus," she said quietly.

Harry glanced at her in surprise, then fixed Sirius with another look that was so strikingly Lily he wondered how Harry's genetics had split to give him James' looks and his mother's…almost everything else.

"That was…that was you?" he asked.

Sirius' vision blurred over slightly and he couldn't be bothered to care that his voice was unsteady. "That damned cat of your mother's was a saint one minute and a menace the next," he said. "Your Dad and I refused to call it by its proper name. Jiji or something. Lily said it was a muggle reference, but we called it Petunia more often than not. If it was in a mood, it would come scratch you up for no good reason, so if I was around I'd stay with you and ward the damn thing off…"

Harry's eyes had started to water halfway through Sirius' story, causing Narcissa's son to pass Hermione a handkerchief, which she put in the hand Harry had wrapped around her own.

"That…you…" Harry winced again. "Snuffles?" he choked out.

Sirius would laugh later about how he still instinctively perked up at the sound of that name, but at present he was more concerned with his godson, who had let go of Hermione and had moved towards him at the same time that Sirius had taken a forward step of his own to close the distance between them.

He pulled Harry into a firm, long overdue hug and refused to let go until Harry gave him some sign of wanting released, which didn't come right away. Instead, Harry clung to him as panicked pleas tumbled from his lips, muffled by Sirius' jacket and broken by the constricted muscles in his throat. He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys. The real Petunia was worse than their bipolar cat. Sirius noticed Hermione have to fight with herself to stay put when Harry started rambling about frying pans and a cupboard under the stairs that locked from the outside. And how at least the cat had been nice sometimes.

Sirius shared a quick, furious glance with Tom who nodded in understanding. He briefly noted the way Tom immediately returned his attention to Hermione, who shrugged and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. He pulled a handkerchief from inside his robes and crossed the room to stand near her. She took the handkerchief almost begrudgingly, but her quiet muttering of "I'm fine, I'm fine" cut short when Tom raised a knowing brow. Her scowl was almost identical to his, which Sirius had seen plenty of times in-between hearings at the Ministry.

Their similarities made his brain itch.

Once Harry had calmed down somewhat, and his ramblings had tapered off, Sirius pulled back, gripped him by the shoulders, and dropped down to look him in the eyes.

"You will never ever ever go back to those people, Harry," he said, his voice thick with anger. Anger at Lily's shite family. Anger at Peter. Anger at himself for giving Harry to Hagrid and going after Peter instead of staying with his godson - his son - like he wanted to in the first place. "I swear it on my life and my magic, do you understand?"

Harry nodded, sniffed, and wiped his eyes with the handkerchief Hermione had passed to him earlier. Once he'd cleaned himself up a bit, Sirius stood and pulled him back into a proper hug, leaning down to kiss his mess of black hair before letting him go again.

"Let's get some tea," he said. "Then we can play catch up, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice still quiet.

With their moment concluded, at least for the time being, Harry turned back towards Hermione and offered her a weak smile that made her eyes fill with tears again. Harry didn't seem surprised when the little witch threw her arms around him, nor did he seem bothered by the force she'd clearly put into the hug. He hugged her back and sniffed when she let out a quiet "Oh, Harry" in a tone that Sirius couldn't quite decipher.

They were close, though. He could tell that much. Close enough for her to read things in Harry's body language that Sirius hoped he'd pick up on quickly too. So Tom hadn't been exaggerating on that bit.

Sirius glanced at Tom again, noted the slight frown on the other man's face as he stared at the pair of teens, and realized he must've been worried about his charge.

They weren't even third years yet. Tom would've needed at least her 1st year's worth of academic performance to base a sponsorship on, at least traditionally speaking. But more than one year was preferred in most cases. So he couldn't have been her sponsor for more than a year, in theory. Even then, he wouldn't have seen her often enough to warrant how close they were.

He hoped Tom would stay most of the evening, at least until after the teens were ushered off to bed. No one else in the room seemed bothered by the odd, magical static between sponsor and sponsee, or how it felt oddly one-sided; like a bond that should have been complete but wasn't. He was missing information that Lucius and Narcissa had.

And he'd spent years being uninformed, or misinformed, back when he still thought Dumbledore was someone he could trust. He wanted answers. He just needed Tom to stay put long enough to hear his questions.

Thankfully, Tom did lurk until late, smiling at the three teens when they resigned themselves to their fates and headed up to bed.

Sirius spent the afternoon getting a condensed rundown of Harry's life, namely his Hogwarts adventures, and already felt like the gap between himself and his godson was mending faster than he could've ever hoped for. But he hadn't forgotten about the magical energy lurking between Hermione, who he now knew for certain was Harry's self-proclaimed best friend, and Tom, the man Sirius owed his freedom to.

He sat through another hour of back and forth between adults, long enough to be assured that the teens were probably asleep, before he gave Tom a meaningful look.

"Explain something to me," he said.

Tom was unsurprised by his question. He didn't even twitch from his position lounging against Narcissa's sofa. "Gladly," he said.

"What's with you two?" he asked. "Is she…yours or what?"

Tom chuckled quietly. "Not in the way you're thinking," he answered. "Although I must thank you for the laugh. The mere idea of her being my daughter is the most absurd thing I've ever heard in someone else's mind and I've heard a lot of absurd things over the years."

Before Sirius could comment, or make a futile complaint towards the natural Legilimens, Tom muttered a quick finite. At first, Sirius didn't think anything had changed, but then Tom flexed the fingers on his left hand and caused a band of silver to catch the light.

"How the fuck…?" Sirius began. "I mean…that explains the bond but…half of that bond doesn't presently exist? How the hell do you have half of a bond with someone?"

"When it hasn't happened yet," said Tom. "Funny thing about time and history. They like to repeat themselves."

Sirius' brows drew together. "…Explain."

Harry, Hermione, and Draco didn't go to bed as soon after they were dismissed as the adults had assumed, but the three did confine themselves to Harry's guest room. They were all in pajamas sitting around on Harry's bed. Draco had a nondescript book in his hands, Harry was thumbing through a Quidditch magazine Draco had lent him, and Hermione had her nose in her journal.

Harry put the magazine down and stretched out so he was parallel to his pillows, leaving plenty of room for Draco, who was leaning against one of the bed posts with his feet toward Harry, and Hermione, who was laying on her stomach with her head towards Harry's feet. If the bed hadn't been so massive, she might've worried about accidentally getting nudged by said feet, but thankfully, she was just out of reach.

"He's perfect," Harry told the ceiling absently. They hadn't spoken for a while, but the words had been on the back of his tongue all day.

"Did they really keep you in a cupboard?" Draco asked.

"Yeah..." said Harry. "Until my Hogwarts letters started to show up. They were addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs'. They were afraid they'd been caught."

Hermione made a low noise in the back of her throat that told them just what she thought of Harry's muggle relatives and their foster parenting methods. "I doubt they're just going to be left alone whether you live there or not," she said tersely. "Sirius doesn't strike me as the sort of person to let something like that slide. Not to mention someone was supposed to be making sure you were properly cared for a few times a year. I'm sure Tom and Sirius will be more than happy to handle the situation how they see fit."

Harry nodded absently. He'd seen the look in Sirius' eyes before Sirius promised to never let him go back to the Dursleys. His godfather was a kind, laid-back sort of man, but he showed signs of the determination and cunning he'd seen in Lord Riddle and the Malfoys. "He cares about me," he said. It seemed like a small thing, but for him it was novel.

"He loves you," Hermione corrected. Harry hoped she was right.

"We all do," said Draco. "We're cousins now."

Harry didn't know how to respond, so he continued to stare at the ceiling that had morphed into a painting of the night sky at dusk and watched the faintly twinkling stars instead.

Eventually, Draco and Hermione grew too tired to stay up, but both told Harry he could wake them if he needed them. He didn't have the energy to assure them he was fine but did manage to muster up a goodnight to each of them and return Hermione's gentle parting hug.

Another few hours passed, though time seemed to stand still in the quiet bedroom. Harry spent the time tracing the constellations he recognized on the ceiling with his eyes until the door quietly cracked open, followed by the faint shuffling of paws on wood.

Harry immediately recognized Snuffles -Sirius- and it was only then that he realized the dog was thinner than he remembered. He didn't want to think about what sort of life Sirius had led in Azkaban for twelve years.

Snuffled tilted his head to the side when he realized Harry was still awake and leapt up onto the duvet. Harry reached out to pet him once he'd shuffled closer and Sirius let out an inquiring whine.

"Can't sleep," Harry muttered. His eyes burned from all the tears he'd shed and even though he still felt like he probably still had crying to do, no more tears came.

Sirius whined again and licked Harry's wrist before he nudged Harry with his head a few times. When Harry got under his covers properly, Sirius licked his cheek snuggled up beside him on his pillow.

Harry managed to smile when a cool nose pressed into his cheek and several gentle licks followed. Turning so that he was facing Sirius, he moved closer to the warmth provided his godfather's fur and kept one arm curled so he could pet Snuffles behind the ears.

After a while, their breathing evened out and they both managed to get some sleep.

Hermione burrowed deeper under her blankets and yawned. There was enough moonlight streaming into her window for her to read the journal and she wasn't quite ready to sleep.

Tom had written to her throughout the day, primarily to vent frustration, but until the adults had shooed her, Harry, and Draco off to bed, she hadn't had a chance to read his notes. He had waited until after she'd finished replying to his earlier complaints to comment on her absence.

You've been quiet.

Harry met his godfather today, she wrote. We'll be moving to his place for the rest of the summer at some point this week. Maybe tomorrow.

You're going? he asked. I thought you were staying with the Malfoys for the rest of the summer.

She frowned and tried to think of a way to explain. Harry and I are close, especially after Ron was a complete prat last term and I've been supporting him since we learned about Sirius. He asked if I could come and stay there with them, and if I wanted to. She paused, tapping the edge of her quill against the page as the words sank into the parchment. You were fine with it.

Just seems odd, he said. Since you both just met this bloke.

You know him, she pointed out. Older you, I mean.

Fair. So that took up most of your day, then?

Yeah. How were things after that Transfiguration disaster?

She could almost feel him rolling his eyes. Flynn is out of the hospital wing, but he chirped when he sneezed earlier so I can only assume he's not completely put back to rights. Mulciber's carelessness and foolishness was addressed after dinner.

She frowned. He could be so cruel to his associates, as he called them. The lower they were on his hierarchy, the more volatile his reaction was if they slipped up somehow. I see, she wrote carefully.

Don't be terse. Everyone else keeps up with their studies. Mulciber had no excuse for his ineptitude aside from laziness and he knew I would figure that out. We have a group studying schedule that accommodates other activities, so he can't use Quidditch as an excuse.

Quidditch can be unbearably exhausting, you know, she wrote. Harry is dead on his feet after practices just as often as he's still capable of studying afterwards.

I'm well aware, Dove, said Tom, and she got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at her. I played.

She stared at the words in shock until they faded.

Tom? Tom Riddle? She tried to envision him in Slytherin Quidditch robes, flushed upon realizing that he was probably just as unnecessarily handsome astride a broom as he was on his feet, but still felt like the idea was ridiculous. What did you play? she asked.

Keeper first year - I was recruited after several flying lessons - and back up Seeker. Chaser second year after I got fed up during a game against the Claws and scored from across the field, still the back up Seeker. Third year, our best Chaser became Captain and swapped my and Flynn's positions, making me Seeker and him Chaser. Braxas got moved from Chaser to Keeper, and our Keeper (I think it was Rosier's older brother, whoever it was, he's graduated now) got moved to Beater. Team stayed the same fourth year. I started out playing this year, but our Captain graduated and I don't have a sodding clue how Crabbe ended up getting appointed in his place, but he's utter shite at it. The dolt loathes me though and I was fed up with the whole thing by the time you came around. We were going to lose games anyway with how the training season went. Sure enough, Slytherin's already on a losing streak. Whole bloody school knows it's because I left and our entire house knows I left because of Crabbe. It's quite entertaining to watch them all turn on him as the season goes on.

You're awful, she wrote, but she was smiling. If he gets dropped, would you play again?

Doubtful. I'm still the backup Seeker and I do exercises with the gents to help keep all of us in shape, but the only way I'd be willing to go back to playing is if I was Captain and I have no interest in being the Captain. Not anymore at least.

Why? she asked. What changed?

Don't play dull, Dove. Pan dropped everything to teach Wendy about Neverland, remember?

Do not call me Wendy, she wrote, despite the smile on her face.

She didn't even bother denying that she had fallen asleep first when he teased her about it the next day. But she didn't let him get away with calling her Wendy either.

Happy Friday! I think this chapter is where I told my lovely Editor In Chief (EIC) Weestarmeggie that the word counts were starting to get away from me. There are worse problems to have xD Still, not all chapters will be this long, but most of them are somewhere between 2k-4k words this time around. At least, from Part IX foward they are.

I also love the thought of Tom being into Quidditch during his school years (it's just another skillset to dominate really, plus it would help that golden boy/totally normal teen persona of his), but I love the thought of him going 'ooh shiny' when Hermione comes along and having all the more reason to stop playing.