A/N

It's been years since I updated this story, I know. To be honest, I had never intended to go back to it. It takes the joy out of writing a story when you get nasty PMs from people who feel the need to insult you just because they don't like what you write. Feedback like that isn't constructive criticism, which I have always invited because authors can really benefit by it. It's simply being rude and obnoxious.

Quite honestly, I've never understood why there are some who take the time to read a story when it has the clear warnings that mine does, only to then contact me directly to tell me how much they don't like the themes of my story in disrespectful detail. These kinds of people must be desperately unhappy in their personal lives if spewing their venom at me makes them feel fulfilled in some way. I wonder if they will ever understand that sending messages like that say far more about the kind of person they are, then the kind of person I am.

But that wasn't really the reason I eventually stopped writing. I would never drop a work just because of some low intellect rabble-rousers. At the beginning, I was simply too busy IRL to give the story the attention it needed, and as the years passed from the release of the last movie, I fell away from the series. Then when Harry Potter and the Cursed Child came out, I hoped that it would re-ignite my love of the series and it actually did the exact opposite. I felt the entire story massacred the history and personalities of the original characters and it made it even harder to get back in the mood to work on my story.

But I had some free time over the past couple of weeks that I normally don't have, so I decided to just pop in and see what new works were out there. I found a few that I really liked, which was nice, but then I found the A Tale of Two Brothers series by riakida and my mind was just blown. I binged the entire collection of works in less than a weekend. It's no secret that I'm a huge Sirius fan and I love, love, love the idea of him at the helm of a redemption arc for Regulus. These stories were so well written! Jammed packed with a ton of backstory, character development and just the right amount of adherence to as much canon as possible. If you read this riakida, Thank You! You did what JK Rowling could not for my muse.

So I tracked down the password for my account and logged in for the first time in years and I was flooded with a ton of messages asking me to continue the story. Far more than the nasty ones. I was genuinely inspired to pick the mantle back up once again. Forgive me. I'm woefully out of practice, my writing is now probably the worst kind of rubbish, and I won't have time to update with the speed that I used to, but I'm dedicated to at least finish Fourth Year if nothing else.

Thanks to everyone who, after all this time, still took a moment to ask me to continue. It really means a lot to me.

Here's a little dip back into the pond. Just to get my feet wet again. Hope you enjoy it!

KappaIota

************HP****************

"Annd...one, two, three, one, two, three. Lift! One, two, three, one, two, three. Lift!"

All the desks in the astronomy classroom had been moved aside, making way for a makeshift dance floor of sorts at the top of the rounded tower. From the table nearest the door came the slightly scratchy and warbling streams of a slow, proper waltz playing on the ancient gramophone that Sirius had retrieved from the ballroom of Celestial Court earlier that day.

In the center of the floor Hermione was trying mightily to keep her patience intact, even as Harry continued to manhandle her as carelessly as if she were a sack of potatoes. His ungainly attempts at coordination falling woefully short during the dance moves that Sirius was desperately trying to teach his graceless godson.

It was clear that the poor girl was a scant second away from giving her friend up as a bad job and letting him fend for himself for the rest of the lesson, before she was too beaten and bruised to wear the sublime and slightly revealing dress robes she and her mother had spent a good hour picking out at Madame Malkins over the summer.

"Okay, Harry," Sirius sighed, seeing no measure of improvement over the past twenty minutes and mercifully calling the teenagers to a halt. Their dance looking more and more like a battle royale of fumbling arms and legs than anything resembling an enjoyable pursuit. "Take a break for a moment and watch us again."

Frustrated, Harry shuffled dejectedly off to the side to slump in a chair while he watched his godfather seamlessly take Hermione into his arms and begin the waltz again. It didn't seem possible that they were doing the exact same dance steps that Harry had been attempting for the past two hours. With Sirius as a partner, Hermione's feet barely touched the ground as they whirled past him in a flowing symphony of elegance and precise synchronized movements.

At this rate, Cho was going to take one look at Harry's two left feet and storm off the dance floor in an affronted huff long before the music had even begun.

He didn't know what he was thinking when he asked her to the dance. On his best day he was already awkward enough around girls as it was. But usually he was also able to keep the public humiliation down to a manageable level, especially since he wasn't complete rubbish on the Quidditch pitch, which is where most of the other students regularly saw him in public.

Naturally shy, and with an enormous amount of unwanted notoriety surrounding him from the moment he first stepped onto Platform 9 and 3/4, he'd been content up to this point to keep his head down and shuffle along the corridors of the school, hidden in the company of his two closest friends as much as possible. But now, with the grudging distinction of being a controversial Tri-Wizard champion, along with all of the resentment that had come with it, and then combined with all of the other unavoidable mishaps during his time at Hogwarts, there was no way he wouldn't be the target of every pair of unfriendly eyes at the Yule Ball.

He really didn't need the extra bonus of being a clumsy oaf on the dance floor added to the repertoire of his detractors.

"Harry! Pay attention, please."

Harry looked up when he was summoned by the sharp voice of his friend and caught the disapproving glare from Hermione's face as she twirled past him. He didn't blame her for being a little miffed by his inattention. After all, she knew what she was doing, so these extra hours of practice were not for her benefit.

It didn't help that Sirius was obviously a skilled leader on the dance floor, which only made Harry feel even more inadequate than he already did. While Hermione was naturally a slight girl as it was, she seemed to weigh no more than a feather as Harry's godfather effortlessly moved them about the room.

There was no way that Harry was going to learn how to be even remotely as capable a partner in the two days left before the ball.

"Forget it, guys," he grumbled loudly. "I'm hopeless. Think I'll just buy one of the Weasleys' Skivving Snackboxes and eat the lot. Maybe it'll be enough to put me in the hospital wing until after the ball."

"Harry James," Sirius scolded, "you will do no such thing. No son of James Potter is a quitter. Now up. If you can out-fly a dragon, you can dance a silly dance."

Reluctantly, Harry dragged himself to his feet and ambled back to the center of the floor where Sirius and Hermione waited. Grudgingly he gripped Hermione's waist with his right hand as his left took her right. But this time the beleaguered godfather decided to take a different approach and Harry was surprised when Sirius moved behind him and placed his own hands over Harry's to help guide him.

"Now, we're going to take this very slowly together. One step at a time. You will get it, I promise."

Sirius rarely failed to uphold his promises, but Harry was so thoroughly convinced about his own ineptitude that he was pretty sure this might just be one of those occasions.

If it had been possible for anyone to watch them from so high up in the clouds, the trio would have looked quite a sight as they sluggishly waltzed around the room in painfully slow motion but then, after a solid thirty minutes of assistance from both Sirius and Hermione, eventually even Harry had to admit that the tactic was working far better than anything else they had tried all afternoon.

Before too long, as cautiously as if he were a nervous parent taking off the training wheels of Dudley's childhood bicycle that Harry had never been allowed to ride, Sirius let go and stepped back. Allowing the two teenagers to naturally find a better rhythm as they gradually worked their way through the motions without further damaging Hermione's poor bruised skin.

With the winter sun beginning to set and dinner time rapidly approaching, it wasn't too much longer before Sirius decided that Harry's modicum of acquired skill was as good as it was probably going to get at this point and he called the practice to a halt for the day. Conjuring a pitcher of pumpkin juice and glasses and a very small plate of Harry's favorite biscuits that wasn't large enough to spoil the boy's dinner, he poured a glass for each of the weary teens and passed them out. A small smile on his face when Harry's hand surreptitiously reached out to snatch a chocolate biscuit like his godfather hadn't been the one to provide them in the first place.

"Better," Sirius assured the boy as he scarfed the first biscuit and grabbed a second one. "Really. And the opening dance won't last more than a few minutes anyway, so don't get so caught up in it that you don't enjoy yourself for the rest of the evening."

"Besides," Hermione informed him after she swallowed down a gulp of the juice, her face slightly pink from all the exertion as she was the one who had been doing double duty all afternoon, "Dumbledore booked the Weird Sisters to play for the ball. You don't really need any skill to dance to their music, once the formal part is over."

Harry was slightly heartened by this news, because he had been stressing the first dance ever since he was informed about it, but he was also hoping that his poor performance wouldn't spoil the chance to spend the evening in Cho's company. Something that would most definitely happen if he had to endure the entire ball by repeatedly dancing the waltz that he had become to hate with a passion.

"Where's Ron?" Sirius asked, wiping down his face with one of the delightfully lemon scented moist towels that had appeared on his work desk.

The question, innocently asked, put an immediate dark cloud in the room as Hermione's face quickly morphed from a pained grimace to a heated scowl and then finally into a facade of complete and utter indifference.

"Probably off chasing Fleur Delacour again," she huffed, taking a dainty bite of one of the chocolate biscuits to hide her hurt. "That's where he usually is these days."

The statement came as a surprise to Sirius, who above all people knew perfectly well how much Ron adored Hermione and what he was willing to do for her. The boy had, after all, gone to great lengths over the past few months to show his devotion to her.

More than once at his own personal peril.

Confused, he glanced quickly over at his godson who shook his head slightly, signaling to Sirius that something was amiss. Sirius should have dropped the subject right then and there, but he had become far too fond of Harry's closest friends to not try to help smooth over any bump in the road they might be having.

"Well, maybe he should come here to practice with you tomorrow. You're certainly welcome to use the room if you like. And afterwards, you could join us for dinner downstairs. Or are the two of you just going to skip the opening waltz and wait for the more casual music?"

Hermione took one more sip from her glass before she squared her shoulders with a decided aloofness and confidently strode over to the table where she had placed her winter cloak.

"I wouldn't know what Ronald is planning on doing at the ball," she stated firmly, donning her cloak and getting ready to leave. "I'm going with someone else."

At this unexpected announcement Harry choked on his juice and began to cough and Sirius reflexively reached over to gently pat him on the back until the boy's throat cleared.

"Hermione," Sirius started gently, "forgive the intrusion my dear, but did you and Ron break up? Why would you go with another boy?"

It might have just been a trick of the firelight dancing around the darkening room, but both Sirius and Harry could have sworn that they saw the first glimmer of a tear threatening to escape Hermione's eye before she turned away towards the door.

"Because the ball is two days away and Ronald couldn't be bothered to ask me, even though he did ask Fleur. Sadly for him, she said no."

Both Harry and Sirius stood gobsmacked by this little announcement. For his part, Sirius was completely blindsided by such a callous act by Ron. Although he had heard quite a few rumors of Miss Delacour's greater than average appeal to the male population of the student body.

But Harry had seen what a hippogriff's arse his mate turned into around the pretty blonde on more than one occasion since the arrival of the contingent from Beauxbatons, and his mind was warring between feeling genuinely sorry for his best friend, who he knew was planning on Hermione being his date for the night, and wanting to smack Ron in the back of his head for doing something as stupid as asking Fleur to the dance but not feeling that the same courtesy should be extended to his own girlfriend.

Harry had zero experience with the opposite sex, but even he wasn't idiot enough to make a mistake like that.

Hermione allowed herself a tiny sniffle as she fastened the clasp on her cloak and reached to open the door. It was taking all the pride she had in her to not burst into tears in front of Harry and his godfather.

"No matter. Some boys around here think I'm worth asking."

With that, she turned and confidently strolled out the door, closing it behind her with a little more force than necessary.

Sirius turned to look at his godson's wide green eyes, both of them feeling an uncomfortable shift in their little group, but helpless to do anything about it. Sighing deeply, he threw an affectionate arm around Harry's shoulders and began to lead his godson to the door so he could take him downstairs to their residence and get the boy fed.

"Blimey."

**********HP**********

Harry was happily curled up on the couch in the sitting room of their residence and enjoying the warm fire crackling merrily in the hearth. Although he was still slightly miffed at his godfather for not allowing him to stay in his room in the Gryffindor tower, at least the small cozy residence was much better at warding off the winter chill than his drafty dorm room ever had been. For once, maybe the harsh Scottish winter weather wouldn't make him feel frozen solid until the spring thaw.

With term officially ended and no more classes to attend, he'd been enjoying some leisure time over the last couple of days, but the waltzing workout that afternoon had tired him out and after dinner he'd taken a hot bath and then climbed into his pajamas much earlier than normal just for comfort sake. The couch was soft and the room was lit only by the fire in the hearth and the lamp burning on the small dining table where Sirius had been determinedly grading a stack of final exam papers since they finished eating.

In the corner of the sitting room was a merrily decorated fir tree, it's colorful balls and baubles shimmering in the firelight and casting rainbow shadows over the stone walls of the room. Under the tree there was an unhealthily large pile of festively wrapped presents that was getting bigger every day and almost every one of them had Harry's name on it.

Traditionally, Harry was used to getting the odd present or two on Christmas day and no earlier. With the Dursleys, his holidays had been anything but merry. The stingy and grudgingly given tokens more an insult than gift. Afterwards, at Hogwarts, Harry had received something from his friends and the Weasleys, as well as Hagrid once or twice along with an occasional treat from Dumbledore. He'd never been greedy about presents. Most neglected children weren't.

But Sirius seemed determined to make their first Christmas together extra special and it was obvious that he'd been shopping appropriately. His answer to his godson's choked incredulity over the ever growing pile a repeated refrain of having years of missing holidays to make up for. The mountain of presents putting the enormous haul from his birthday to shame.

Together they had gone to Hogsmeade the previous weekend and Sirius had let the boy out of his sight just long enough for Harry to dart into a shop and pick up a few things that he wanted to give as gifts. Sirius had tried hard, really he had, but there was still a worried tension in the air that had Harry shopping as quickly as possible to lessen the stiff posture of his godfather's shoulders at the two of them being out in the open like that for too long.

With the holidays around the corner, the little village had been thronged with people running about for last minute gifts and supplies and it was simply too crowded for an overprotective guardian to endure for long.

Hopefully, none of Harry's gift recipients would be put off by the hurried nature of his selections.

Feeling snug and relaxed, Harry was halfway through his tenth reading of Flying with the Cannons when Sirius finally stood from the table and rummaged around the kitchen area to make two mugs of hot chocolate. Bringing them over to the couch, he nudged Harry's feet out of the way and then sat down next to the boy, handing him the warm mug with a precarious mountain of whipped cream almost spilling over the edges.

"You need more books."

Harry smirked and took a big sip of his chocolate. He had several books, which Sirius knew perfectly well, having been the one who bought them for Harry in the first place. But like any other reader, Harry had his favorites and they never seemed to get any less interesting no matter how many times he read them.

In the firelight, Sirius' face looked serene, but there was something definitely pinched in his expression that Harry had learned to notice the longer they lived together. As hard as his godfather tried to keep any worries or stress away from him, it was getting easier for Harry to tell that there was something weighing heavily on the man's mind.

"Alright, Sirius?"

With a small huff Sirius turned to face his godson and smiled, his forehead crinkling in thought.

"Everything's fine, little one. Just thinking about your dad."

A little burst of pain pricked Harry's heart for just a second before it eased off. Talking about his parents was usually quite hard for Sirius to do, the loss still too excruciating to bear most days, and it usually only happened when there was trouble or tension between the two of them.

"What about him?"

Sirius put his half empty mug on the side table and reached over to draw Harry's socked feet on his lap, letting the boy stretch out comfortably again. He didn't necessarily look upset. More wistful than anything else, so Harry didn't worry about pushing a little.

"How proud of you he would be," Sirius mused with a soft grin. "What a fine young man you are growing into. He would have been so excited about your date with Cho. Full of so much of that helpful kind of advice that a father passes on to his son about the proper way to squire about with a young lady when he was old enough to start dating."

Harry hummed a quiet agreement, the tiniest bit of a smile ghosting on his face as he subconsciously nudged a little closer to his godfather. A need for a little paternal affection presenting itself without thought.

"Your mum would have been the one to fuss, of course," Sirius continued with a fond chuckle. "Making sure you looked tidy and had the right corsage for Cho. Reminding you about your manners and worrying about you staying out too late. But your dad, he would have sat you down for a talk. Making sure that you knew what your responsibilities were and the correct way to behave to ensure that your young lady was treated respectfully. Just like his dad taught him."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, avoiding having to look his godfather in the eye by focusing on his hot chocolate. "I would have liked that too."

"Of course my own father never shared any of that with me. I had to depend on Mr. Potter as well."

There was bitterness in Sirius' voice and a sharpened look in his steel gray eyes for just a moment before he softened his features again. Sometimes it was hard for him to not get caught up in the past which was why he usually tried to avoid it when possible. Except for the few fleeting years of youth after leaving 12 Grimmauld Place for good and up until James' and Lily's murders, there wasn't much worth remembering until he was reunited with his godson.

"Just like I'll depend on you."

Sirius looked up and saw the earnestness in Harry's face at the boy's words. They warmed his heart more than he thought anything possibly could.

"It isn't fair that I got to spend so much time with them, and you so little," Sirius said sadly, gently rubbing Harry's left ankle where it rested on his knee. "But I promise that you can always depend on me, Harry. And I'll try my best to offer the advice I think they would have given. Okay?"

Harry swallowed hard, emotion clogging his throat. There were no words to adequately convey how much Sirius meant to him. How much of a father he had become to the boy who never thought he'd get a chance to experience unconditional paternal love after a young life of emotional abuse and disregard from his own blood family.

"I think you're brilliant as a dad," he muttered quietly, his face flushing in the firelight as he fiddled with the seam of his sleep shirt.

Sirius choked a little, his stomach doing flip flops as his heart shredded and healed over repeatedly in a manner of seconds. They were words he was longing to hear, loved to hear, truthfully, but they still pierced him through like the sharpest of sabres. His conscience burdened in equal measures by the love he had for his child and the guilt that he was the one who was bestowed with this affection from Harry when it should have been James.

It took a minute to compose himself while he and his son held a wordless conversation between themselves. Breaching an invisible barrier that they had kept carefully constructed out of respect for James and Lily. The pain of their loss would always be felt by the ones they left behind and who deeply loved them, but life had to go on for the living regardless.

And as long as they were never forgotten, it wasn't disrespectful to their memory for Sirius and Harry to love each other as much as Lily and James would have wanted them to.

"Well then," Sirius said after a few moments of silence, clearing his throat and sitting up a little straighter, "I guess it's time for you and I to have a little talk."

Confused, Harry cocked an eyebrow and gave his godfather a questioning look as Sirius pulled his wand out of his pocket and began to conjure glittering words in the air.

"Witches and Wizards have fundamental differences, Harry," he began, looking a little uncharacteristically nervous. "Think of it like wands and holsters."

***************HP*************

The Great Hall was abuzz with activity that morning. With the Yule Ball being held this year, the majority of students from Fourth year and up had decided to stay behind for the holiday so they could attend. Consequently, there were quite a few teenagers all having a leisurely breakfast with no class to hurry up and run to.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione was reading her recently delivered copy of the Daily Prophet as she nibbled on her toast. Across from her, Ron was nervously chewing on a strip of bacon, wondering why his girlfriend had so far ignored his presence since he arrived at the table. No amount of attempts at conversation on his part had been responded to with any amount of interest.

With Christmas only a day away and a massive number of students in the castle away from their parents, there was a second round of morning post being delivered and a veritable flurry of owl feathers was showering the tables, causing the disgruntled students still trying to enjoy their breakfast to use their bodies to shield their plates as a sea of packages were dropped like bombs around their ears.

In the midst of all this chaos, Harry was scurrying over to where his friends were gathered and he flopped down at the table next to Ron, a desperate madness in his eyes as he made a heartfelt plea towards Hermione.

"I need you to Obliviate me," he begged. "Please. If you were ever my friend..."

Finally looking up from her paper, Hermione gave him a concerned frown. "Harry? What happened? Are you okay?"

"It's Sirius," Harry babbled, looking a bit green around the gills.

Instantly both of his friends were alarmed until Hermione saw Harry's godfather up at the professors' table looking perfectly normal. He was pouring a cup of tea and having a casual chat with McGonagall who was lazily waving away owl feathers.

"What about him?" she asked, wondering why Harry seemed so overwrought when Sirius seemed fine.

"He...he...," Harry stuttered, unable to form the words without reliving the horror.

"Spit it out mate," Ron advised, sagely. "Always better out than in."

"He...he gave me...The Talk," Harry hissed, swallowing hard to keep bile from cresting his throat. It had been that way since the previous evening.

"Th'what?" Ron grunted through the sausage he was chewing messily and spitting partially on the table.

Hermione looked at the redhead and recoiled slightly. Swallowing hard to likely keep her own nausea at bay over the boy's positively grotesque table manners.

"You know," Harry growled through clenched teeth. "The...Talk."

Realization blossomed on Hermione's face and she needed to stifle a giggle at Harry's obvious distress. As much as she loved her friend, she wasn't about to use a spell on him to take away that particular memory. Quite frankly, she was now sorry she hadn't been around the two of them long enough yesterday to witness Harry's laughable discomfort first hand.

Ron had caught on too and he simply shrugged and swallowed his sausage before immediately spearing another one. As the youngest brother of six, he'd learned all about the birds and the bees at a shockingly young age.

"So what's the big deal?" he mumbled through another mouthful.

"What the big deal?" Harry snapped, his face blushing seven shades of humiliated pink. "I'm fourteen for Merlin's sake! And my cousin and his lot are disgusting pigs. I've known all about that stuff since I was in primary school!"

Hermione couldn't contain her laughter any longer and she slapped a hand over her mouth to suppress the giggles that were pouring out against her will. Across the table Harry glared at her for her failure to appreciate just how traumatized he really was.

"Hermione, you don't understand!" he scolded angrily. "He used comparisons to wands and Quidditch! There were visual aids!"

The poor girl positively keeled over in merriment at this point. Her unbridled laughter catching the attention of the neighboring tables and making the other students wonder what was so amusing that it had the normally stalwart Granger giggling so hard she could barely breathe. Harry's face flushed an even darker shade of red and it was only the dull roar of chatter in the room overall that kept Sirius from noticing what was transpiring at his godson's table.

Realizing that he wasn't getting any sympathy from his friends, Harry dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He had no appetite for food, but that didn't stop his usual morning vitamins appearing in front of him, right on schedule.

"Why couldn't you have just stayed with us last night, Hermione," he bemoaned as he obediently swallowed the tablets down as quickly as he could. The last thing he needed was his godfather coming over to reprimand him right now. "He wouldn't have done it if you hadn't left."

Harry's careless words caught Ron's attention and he immediately stopped chewing for the first time all morning. He'd been wondering where the other two were the previous day as neither of them had mentioned anything about getting together with him. Harry was confined to Sirius' residence, he knew, but Hermione hadn't been in any of her usual places.

He knew that because he'd checked them all.

And when she finally climbed through the door into the Gryffindor common room, she'd waltzed right by him without a word.

"What were you two doing together yesterday?" he asked, his voice more than a little hurt over not being invited to join them.

Realizing his mistake, Harry quickly sobered up and exchanged a silent look with Hermione who suddenly didn't find anything quite so funny anymore. After a tense moment, she neatly folded up her newspaper and began to gather her things.

"I was practicing the waltz with Harry so he wouldn't be embarrassed with Cho tomorrow night," she informed him airily as she wrapped up a banana and a muffin for later and stowed them in her bag.

"Well, that's alright then," Ron smiled, relieved by such a simple explanation. "But you could have told me. I probably need some practice too. Unless you want to lead. In which case, that's fine by me."

He gave Hermione such a deep and sincere smile that she almost lost her hardened composure as she stood from the table and prepared to leave. But still feeling deeply betrayed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, she steeled her resolved.

"You and Fleur can do whatever you like. I'm going with someone who already knows how to lead."

With that she flounced off, her mane of bushy hair bouncing behind her and leaving Ron with a growing sense of horrified realization and dread spreading over his pale face. He turned to Harry, desperation clear in his eyes, and all his best friend could do was shrug sadly.

"Should have asked her first."

***************HP************