A/N Thank you for all the reviews and PMs!
Regarding Harry calling Sirius Papa. Which apparently is a bigger point of contention than I ever knew!
Personally I don't think canon Harry would have ever given Sirius a paternal endearment with the way the books were written. Even if Sirius had somehow survived the fight at the Ministry and had his name cleared, Harry would have only gone to live with him after he came of age because of the blood protection (something I also don't agree with). So Sirius would never have had the chance to fully become Harry's father. By the time the war was over and Voldemort was dead, Harry was an adult and Sirius would have remained the father/brother/godfather/friend mix he was in the books. Not for lack of love between them, but just because their relationship was different that the one between the characters in my story.
In my story, Sirius has had the chance to be a real father to Harry while he's still growing up. Just like Sirius would have always become his father if he raised Harry after James and Lily were killed instead of going to Azkaban. A true full-time guardian who takes care of Harry like a father would. Also my Harry was never going to call Sirius 'Dad'. James is Dad. James will always be Dad. Neither my Sirius nor my Harry would have been comfortable taking that away from him. So Sirius gets his own name because he really does deserve the title.
And just for clarification on the pronunciation of the word Papa here, because some have asked. Sirius and Harry are British and wizards in this universe tend to be a little old fashioned and posh compared to "Muggles". In my head, Harry would pronounce it like Pa-PAH, not PAH-PAH. I have absolutely nothing official to base that on other than my own opinion and years of watching too many re-runs of Downton Abbey and Jane Austen movies. If that's incorrect, my apologies to anyone that's offended by it, but this story is my sandbox and that's how it's pronounced here lol.
Enjoy today's chapter!
**********HP************
It was hard to breathe as he moved through the dimly lit hallway of the rundown house. Thick layers of dust clogged the air that smelled stale with an underlying tinge of decay and mold. From his blurry perspective it almost seemed as if he were shimmying along the grimy wood floorboards instead of walking towards the light at the end of the hall.
He could barely make out the shape of an enormous fireplace but he could feel the stifling heat coming from the flickering flames as he made his way closer. With his lungs already working hard to filter out the thick motes that swirled in his wake, the oppressive warmth made him feeling like he was on the verge of suffocation. Ahead, an unkempt lanky man was kneeling in front of a large wing-back chair, his face hidden as he fiddled with a glass bottle.
"Turn me, so I can face our guest," came a high pitched hiss that was almost unbearable to hear in its harshness.
The kneeling man moved slightly to reach for a long, knobbly wand and gave it a flick. A second later the chair slowly began to rotate, it's claw foot legs scraping against the floor. Inch by inch the chair turned until it revealed the first glimpse of its tiny occupant. The sight of the creature so horrifying that his mind refused to process the image as a bright green flash of excruciating pain stabbed him with the ferocity of a thousand sharp knives.
"Aaahh!"
Harry shot up in his bed, soaked in sweat and gasping for air as he blearily tried to focus on his surroundings. His forehead was burning sharply and he reached up with one hand to gingerly rub his scar in a futile effort to stem some of the pain. Dimly he could hear the pounding of footsteps drawing closer until his bedroom door was flung open.
"Harry!"
Sirius' worried face was scanning the room for any evidence of intruders or foul play, his wand out and ready. He was still wearing his rumpled dress shirt and trousers from the ball which meant that he hadn't even made it to his own bed yet. It didn't take him long to assess the situation and realize that his son had just had another one of the night terrors that had mercifully lessened in frequency over the past few months with his continued Occlumancy lessons.
Sucking in a relieved breath, the anxious man lowered his wand and moved quickly over to Harry's bed. He reached out to take the boy's chin in his hand as he gently lifted Harry's face up enough to see the angry red of the scar and the flush of his son's skin. Sighing heavily, he conjured a glass that he filled with cold water that erupted from the tip of his wand and pressed it into Harry's jittery hand. He waited until his son had a firm grip on the glass and then summoned a cold, wet flannel from the bathroom and used it to relieve the burning ache on the boy's forehead.
"Are you alright?"
Harry took a sip of the blissfully cold water and gave a slight, shaky nod under the flannel. Every few seconds his body would shiver a little from both the aftershocks of the nightmare and the growing chill of the sweat soaked sleep shirt plastered to his torso.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Sirius' face was full of concern as he watched Harry carefully for any further signs of distress, but Harry's troubled mind was already rapidly losing the images that had been terrorizing him just moments earlier so he shook his head and took another sip of water.
Over in the open doorway of Harry's bedroom Remus stood quietly, the noise having awoken him even though he had taken a sleeping draught for pain earlier. He waited for Sirius to turn and wordlessly assure him that his assistance wasn't needed before he retreated back into his own room.
Trembling slightly, Harry sat quietly in his bed, clutching his water glass to his chest and not saying anything. There were dark circles under his eyes and a droop to his shoulders. Sirius sat by his side feeling absolutely helpless to protect his son from these nightmares and noted that the poor kid really just looked miserable. Harry shivered again twice under his father's watchful eye before Sirius removed the now lukewarm flannel and reached out to cup Harry's chin in his hand.
"Would a nice warm bath make you feel better, do you think?"
The rattled boy thought about it for a few seconds, his mind still cloudy and racing, before he gave a slight nod. Sirius gave one of his son's clammy hands a quick squeeze before he stood up and strode out of the room towards the bathroom.
Doing something productive like running the bath for his traumatized child helped to keep the shaking out of his own hands. Sitting down on the edge of the deep tub, Sirius reached over to turn on the tap that gushed the large white foam bubbles that sprayed different colored steam when they popped. Out of all the different taps on their tub, this one seemed to be Harry's favorite.
Despite the great width and neck-deep depth, the tub only took a moment to fill and cloud the vanity mirror over the sink with sparkly steam. Behind him he could hear Harry's quiet, shuffling footsteps as he came into the room. The boy had already discarded his damp shirt and was rubbing warmth into the mottled goose flesh of his chilly skin. A clean pair of pajamas tucked under one skinny arm.
Sirius stood and crossed over to where his son was standing, running a soothing hand quickly over Harry's messy head.
"Take all the time you need. I'll see to your bed."
Closing the door behind him, Sirius moved back in Harry's bedroom and began to strip off the sheets and blanket. He rolled them up in a ball and used his wand to vanish them down to the laundry room in the castle's basement. Another flick summoned a fresh set of linens from there as well and Sirius set about to slowly re-make his son's bed by hand. Afraid that if he stopped moving right now there was no telling what he'd be inclined to do to avenge all of the injustices that Harry suffered on a near daily basis.
Knowing that a father couldn't afford to run off and act reckless when there was a child depending on him to be there full-time.
Exhausted and working slowly, he managed to have the bed re-made with a warming charm placed on the sheets by the time his son padded back into the room. Clean and dressed in fresh clothes but looking worn out enough to drop on the spot. Sirius drew back the blanket with an obvious invitation and Harry tiredly slid into the welcoming warmth as his father tucked him in.
From Harry's stocking that was piled on the boy's desk, Sirius pulled out a large bar of Honeyduke's best chocolate and broke off a chunk that he pressed into his son's hand with a pointed look. Although Harry didn't really want it, he took a small bite and slowly chewed, feeling a little better as the chocolate worked its magic.
"Should I stay a bit?"
Harry didn't answer immediately, the conflict in his mind between powering through his nightmare alone or accepting his father's comforting presence clearly etched on his face. It didn't help that Sirius was looking rough himself which only made Harry feel even more guilty. But, eventually, the side of Harry that wanted Sirius close by won and he gave a small, grateful nod before closing his eyes.
With a flick of his wrist Sirius extinguished the lamp on Harry's night stand and sat quietly by his son's side for a few moments before standing up and summoning one of the squashy armchairs from the sitting room. It zoomed across the floor and squeezed itself through the narrow doorway with a pop! before coming to a halt at the end of Harry's bed. Sirius dropped heavily into the seat, propped his feet up on the bed and settled his hands in his lap as he kept watch over his tormented kid's troubled rest.
*********HP*********
This time when the nightmare came, it brought a wave of arctic air with it.
Air that was bone chillingly damp as it swept through the barred window and across him in huge frozen sheets of rock hard pellets made of sea salt and ice that welted his sallow and unprotected skin. The stone slab behind and underneath him had unforgiving craggy edges that scraped and sliced at him when he tried to curl up into a tight ball to protect himself from the harshest of the winds.
Persistent hunger pains gnawed away at what was left of his belly, but he didn't feel any interest in eating the fetid gruel that was congealing in a cracked and rusting bowl a few feet from the door. The misery and madness swirling around his his head, constantly screaming out a never-ending loop of his biggest fears and greatest failures, drowning out any desire for sustenance.
His head ached monstrously from the endless cacophony of desperate screams and insane cackles of the wretches around him. With the roar of the turbulent sea and the high pitched shrill of the birds of prey that circled looking for an easy meal of rotted flesh, the sounds were an inescapable torture in and of themselves.
In his cracked mind the hallucinations of ones he had desperately loved and then failed paraded before him. Their faces pale in death and agony as they hissed and cried over their unjust fates caused by his careless hands and weaknesses. Until the only one left was a young version of the one that had been his brother in all but name. Startling emerald green eyes red with tears and disbelief that cut through him like a sword.
"Why didn't you help me?" the boy whispered. "You were supposed to protect me!"
Too painful to endure any further, Sirius' subconscious kicked its way to the surface of his mind and he awoke with a start, gasping in warm air that started to melt the ice he felt lingering in his lungs. Across from him in the dark room, Harry was still sleeping, although given the boy's restless shifting, probably not very well.
Even though it was just a dream Sirius could still feel the hauntingly familiar effects of the dementors rippling through his body. Going over to Harry's desk he broke off another chunk of the chocolate and stuffed it into his mouth as he took in deep breaths in an attempt to calm his racing heart.
Harry didn't know how often Sirius was woken in the middle of the night with recurring terror of his years of false imprisonment.
Sirius made sure of that.
Aided by the bag of chocolate buttons that were always at the ready in his night stand, Sirius would suffer through his personal nightmares as quietly as possible and then plaster on a face of happiness and confidence before he would allow his boy to see him in the morning. Harry already had enough to be getting along with. He certainly didn't need the added weight of Sirius' broken psyche on top of his own.
With the fear Sirius had felt when he couldn't find his son earlier, it wasn't necessarily a surprise to him that the nightmare would come. And in the aftermath of the ball, given how upset Harry was by the time Sirius finally got him to sleep, it probably shouldn't have been a surprise that the boy would have one of his own.
The two of them shared more emotional trauma than anyone should ever have to.
He looked over again to make sure that Harry was safe and sound and then rubbed the back of his neck, stiff from falling asleep in the chair, before ambling out towards the bathroom. Needing something to loosen up his tense muscles, he turned the taps to run the shower and then stripped off the remainder of his dress clothes while the water warmed up.
Some of the multi-colored mist from Harry's bath bubbles were still clinging stubbornly to the polished surfaces of the room and he reached up to swipe them away from the mirror over the sink to take a good, hard look at his face.
There were dark circles under his eyes, which were not surprising at all. Although he had regained most of his lost health and lingering good looks in the months since his escape, and especially since his vindication, there were still times when he looked a lot older than his thirty-five years.
When the shower was full of steam he stepped in under the cascade of almost too hot water to scrub off the phantom chill of the frigid years in his cell. A jet of soap sprayed over him and he absently washed his tattooed chest as he remembered the excruciating pain from steadily carving into his own flesh.
In Azkaban, with his magic taken from him in most ways with the loss of his wand and the omnipresence of the dementors, he was at least coherent enough to recognize that he needed to do something to keep himself going until his innocence could be declared and he could be free to protect Harry.
During the first few months, when he still had most of his wits about him, he'd humbled himself enough to beg for the charcoal remains of the fires that the guards huddled around during their watches. Having been known as a member of a powerful and haughty family, it amused the guards who hated their jobs to see Sirius on his knees and pleading for their scraps, so they'd obliged him. Using the ashes as a crude sort of ink, he'd cut protective runes into his skin in an effort to remain strong enough to survive.
Now they served as a reminder of just what lengths he was willing to go to in order to ensure that his son was safe.
***********HP************
Harry stumbled bleary-eyed into the kitchen area where Sirius, not looking much better, had his hands curled around his PAPA mug. He'd recently refilled it for the third time with strong coffee which was more than he ever drank.
Hair askew and pajamas rumpled, Harry hesitantly slid down into the chair next to his father and lightly massaged his temples with a quiet moan. Frowning, Sirius reached over to gently rub the boy's bony back, his tongue clucking in sympathy, very much like the sound Molly Weasley would make when fussing over her own children.
"Head still hurt?"
A tiny nod confirmed his suspicions and he got up from the table to pull a few bottles out of the cabinet. With practiced ease, he quickly concocted a potion that he nudged in Harry's direction.
"Drink this. It will help your poor head."
Harry slowly sat up enough to pull the glass filled with bubbly pink liquid towards his mouth. Grimacing, he downed it in one gulp, expecting something particularly foul, as had been his previous experience with tonics, only to be surprised by the pleasant taste of sugary peppermint.
"No one said that all remedies need to be nasty," Sirius informed him with a smile. "Your Grandmama taught me that."
Harry's forehead crinkled into a scowl as he was reminded of all the potions and tonics that had been forced down his throat in the school's hospital wing.
"Then why do Madam Pomfrey's tonics always taste so dreadful?"
Sirius hummed in quiet amusement as he put together a plate of breakfast from the buffet that Dobby had left under a warming charm on the counter and slid it in front of his tired child.
"What better way to discourage students from trying to get out of classes by feigning illness than to make the tonics taste nasty?"
The look that spread across Harry's face was priceless as his mind processed the implications of all of the horrible tasting remedies he'd been dosed with during his years at Hogwarts. Sirius had to bite a lip to keep from laughing at his suddenly furious kid.
"What about those foul protein drinks you give me?"
This time Sirius quirked a small smile as he fondly tousled Harry's wild bed-head. Careful to keep his touch light so as to not cause any more discomfort.
"Sadly there isn't anything I can do about that one. I assure you, were it possible I would. Anything to get you to drink them with less fuss."
For a brief second Harry looked like he was about to go on a whinge about the supplement shakes that he disliked so much, but instead the boy schooled his features again and just sat quietly with his head propped up on one arm.
"Eat something," Sirius said, nodding a firm command at Harry's plate. "You need food in your system if you want to feel better after last night."
Harry frowned but he obediently dragged the plate closer to him and grabbed a fork. With a bare minimum of interest he slowly began to pick at his food, knowing that Sirius wasn't going to take no for an answer right now. The smell of the sausages was still making him gag a bit even with the upset of his stomach beginning to ease off from the potion he drank, so he settled for a forkful of plain eggs instead.
His face pursed in thought, Sirius sat back down in his chair and rested his forearms on the table as he leaned forward to get his son's full attention. With nothing to do but think this morning since sleep had been so elusive, and not wanting to be mired in bad memories, he'd been mulling over Harry's behavior regarding his Christmas gifts before Ron's arrival.
"It was a very kind thing you did yesterday," he began, a soft smile on his face. "Making sure that your best friend didn't have your gifts rubbed in his face."
"It's not his fault his parents don't have a lot of money," Harry shrugged, his face pinking from the praise. "He can be a little sensitive about it sometimes."
Of course Sirius already knew this. After all, he was the one who had been giving Ron active employment to earn a few galleons here and there. But he also had the feeling that Harry didn't know the full story of exactly why the Weasleys found themselves in often precarious financial straits.
"Ron shouldn't be embarrassed by his family's lack of fortune," Sirius stated firmly. "On the contrary, it's something that he should be proud of under the circumstances."
At Harry's confused look, Sirius continued. It was about time that the boy knew more of the biased politics of many wizard families.
"Have you ever heard the term The Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
Harry shook his head and took a sip of his pumpkin juice in an attempt to wash down the egg that felt stuck in his throat. He didn't want to keep eating but he knew he'd get scolded if he didn't so he picked up a piece of toast to nibble on instead. The last thing he wanted right now was for his father to be even more displeased with him than he surely already was.
"It's the registry of so-called Pure-blood families. The Weasley family is one of them. The Blacks are another."
There was venom in Sirius' voice as he spoke the words. It had been many years since he started to consider the term Pure-blood as foul as any other profane exclamation. Especially since it was highly unlikely that any of the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight were actually fully pure after centuries of marriages.
"What about the Potters? Wasn't my dad a Pure-blood?"
Sirius smiled and reached over to brush a lock of wild hair away from Harry's forehead. His scar was still a slightly angry red after his nightmare.
"He was, but the Potters were kept off the registry because they'd always been very vocal about the fact that they didn't consider Muggles or Muggleborns inferior to wizards. And they had a very common Muggle surname, which the rest of the Pure-bloods found offensive. Snobs that they are."
Harry managed a tiny smile, proud of his ancestors' determination for fair play and values. He'd seen enough in his time as a wizard to know that it wasn't always the case among magical people.
"Somehow the Weasleys maintained their position on the list, even though they themselves spoke out against it," Sirius continued. "But they've been labeled as blood traitors ever since. It's made it hard for them to have lucrative careers since most positions of power are held by members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, which is why they are all so well off. They make it their business to keep blood-traitors in their place. Their reduced circumstances are seen, by some, as only fair and just punishment for their betrayal to the Pure-blood ways."
"That's awful!" Harry's eyes narrowed in anger as he dropped his toast to his plate. "They have a right to their own opinions without being forced to suffer because of them. Just because they don't hate everyone like some families do."
"I agree," Sirius soothed, pleased with how well Harry turned out, despite the vile relatives that had raised him until recently. "It's a terrible thing to suppress a man's ability to adequately provide for his family just because he refuses to adhere to the rantings of bigots. Ron should be proud that his parents choose to live a life of good values instead of material wealth, although I know it makes it hard for him at times."
Harry sighed deeply, his distress over the unfair treatment of the family that had been so kind to him overshadowing his own troubles for the moment.
"Isn't there something we can do for them?" he asked hopefully, thinking of all the gold in their combined vaults. "A way to make things easier for them?"
Sirius leaned back in his chair and crossed an elegant ankle over his knee, his face contemplative. It was going to be hard explaining some adult behavior to his kind-hearted boy.
"If I thought for even a moment that Arthur and Molly would take my money, I would happily give it," he assured Harry. "As much as they wanted and more. But besides their good moral fiber, the Weasleys also have their pride. It would be an insult for me to openly acknowledge their lack of finances. Do you understand?"
"I guess," Harry grumbled. "It's just not fair."
"No. It's really not," Sirius agreed. "You're very fond of them, aren't you?"
Harry looked up into his papa's kind eyes and nodded. Sirius didn't know half of what the Weasleys had done for him over the years. Harry desperately wanted a way to show his gratitude to them.
"Can I tell you a story," he started, hesitantly, "without you getting really mad?"
Sirius frowned at the nervous look on his child's face. Clearly Harry was still very worked up over last night and Sirius knew he was going to have to do a better job at keeping his temper in check. It wouldn't do for his son to be afraid to talk to him.
"Mad at you, you mean?"
"No." Harry shook his head as he fidgeted with his pumpkin juice glass. "I just don't want you to get mad because it's something we can't change."
"How about I do my best to try?" Sirius compromised. He couldn't make a promise like that when he didn't know the details and he wouldn't lie to his son.
Seeing that it was the best offer he was going to receive, Harry sighed and nodded. Sirius' temper and over-protective nature was the reason he hadn't already shared a lot of what had happened over the years while living with the Dursleys, but he did want his father to know the lengths that Ron and his family had gone to in order to be good friends to him.
"After my first year at school, it was hard going back to live with the Dursleys," he started, his forehead scrunched in painful remembrance. "I think they were kind of hoping that I wouldn't be coming back at all."
Nodding, Sirius resisted an urge to release a stream of profanity that Harry wasn't allowed to use over just how much he hated those people. But he'd promised Harry to try and keep his temper, so he swallowed the words down as best he could for the moment.
"I was used to them ignoring me," Harry continued cautiously, "They were much happier when I just kept to myself. But that summer, on my birthday, Uncle Vernon invited his boss and his wife over for dinner and..."
"That's when you first met Dobby," Sirius nodded, recognizing at least that much of the tale.
"Right. But after that they were furious and I was locked in my room. Uncle Vernon put bars on my window so I couldn't escape and put a cat-flap in my door. They only let me out twice a day to use the bathroom and what food I was given was shoved through the cat flap."
Harry seemed perfectly cool and collected as he told the tale of his abuse and imprisonment at the hands of the people who were meant to be caring for the young boy. The outrage brewing inside of Sirius was taking a very dark turn if the way his hair started to lift from his shoulders was any indication. A buzzing in the air, indicating an impending burst of magic, sent a sizzling sensation across Harry's skin.
Sirius was clearly on the verge of erupting at any second. To forestall an accidental explosion that could very well blow a hole in the Astronomy Tower Harry made the smart move to lean forward and give his father a comforting hug until he started to calm down again.
"I'm okay, you know," he murmured into Sirius' shoulder. "You got me away from them."
Having his son safely in his arms worked to lower Sirius' agitation. And Harry was right. There was nothing they could do to change what had happened in the past without the liberal use of a Time-Turner and that wasn't about to happen any time soon.
"Anyway," Harry said, pulling away and returning to his own chair once the air had stopped crackling, "it only lasted three days. Ron got worried because he hadn't heard from me all summer and he and the twins took their father's enchanted car and flew it to Surrey to rescue me. I was really grateful to them for that. They got into massive trouble for it too. But Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took me in for the rest of the summer and took care of me. They didn't have to do that."
Sirius nodded, understanding how Harry could have easily become so fond of people who would do that for a neglected child when they already had so many of their own to worry about. It wasn't unlike what James' parents had done for him all those years ago.
Ron had been a steadfast friend of Harry's right from the beginning, but Sirius was impressed to hear about the risk that Fred and George took in driving their father's illegal car just to check on Harry's well-being. He reminded himself to think kindly the next time he graded one of the Weasley brother's exam papers.
"Mrs. Weasley's really been the closest thing I've had to a mum since my mum died," Harry said quietly, not wanting to disrespect Lily Potter's memory in the least. "I wouldn't have even known how to get on the platform for the Hogwart's Express my first year without her. She's always helped me buy my school things too and made sure that I had a gift to open on Christmas Day. She didn't have to bother herself with any of those things."
Silently Sirius thought about the tiny parcel he'd intercepted from the Dursleys that arrived the day before Christmas. The single tissue they had sent for Harry's "gift", which they hadn't even bothered to wrap so Sirius was able to see it, was such an insult that he didn't even tell Harry it had come.
"And she always works really hard to take care of her family with what little they have," Harry continued earnestly. "I'd just like to do something for her in return. For all of them actually."
Harry's tired and worn face, too haggard looking for a fourteen year old boy really, struck a nerve with his father. It was clear that Sirius hadn't been doing enough lately to make sure that his son was healthy and rested with all of the nonsense going on. He had no trouble believing that his son's inability to ward off the night terror he suffered through was not only because of their little disagreement but because Harry was simply mentally and physically exhausted from all the strain.
And although he wanted nothing more at the moment than to apparate to Privet Drive and hex the Dursleys into oblivion for abusing and neglecting his child, an idea began forming in Sirius' mind of a much more pleasurable nature.
There were still ten days left before classes were to resume and perhaps it was time for them to take their first little family holiday. And if Arthur could arrange some time off from the Ministry, Sirius would invite their whole family along to join them as well and treat the lot as a thank-you for caring for his boy when he wasn't able to do so himself.
"What do you think about taking a trip, little one?"
Sirius reached over and used the cool tips of his fingers to gently soothe some of the lingering redness surrounding the scar on his son's forehead. Despite himself, Harry closed his eyes and sighed over the comfort the gesture gave him.
"Someplace warm and relaxing until the term starts?" Sirius suggested. "We'll invite all the Weasleys to join us. I'll pay for everything and we can make sure that Molly has a chance to be the one who gets taken care of for a bit. What do you say?"
Harry opened his eyes and looked up hopefully as a small smile bloomed across his face. "Could we really? D'you think they'd come if we asked?"
"I'll contact her directly and see what she and Arthur have to say," Sirius promised. "If they agree, I'll start making the arrangements immediately. Would you like to ask the Grangers as well?"
"I would, yeah," Harry replied, his face falling just a bit. "But I think Hermione's planning to go home for the rest of the break after all. She's not really keen to be around Ron right now. She told me last night that she was going to Professor McGonagall this morning to ask about using her fireplace to floo to London."
Sirius nodded sadly, feeling bad for his son's two best friends who were learning hard truths about the ups and downs of having a love life. For Harry's sake, he hoped the two of them would be able to work out a way to be friends again before too long.
With Harry's eyes starting to droop again, Sirius decided that the boy needed some more rest. So when it became clear that Harry wouldn't eat any more than he already had, Sirius cleared the table and handed Harry his morning vitamins.
"I want you to go back to bed for a few hours, little one. You look dead on your feet."
Harry had no interest in going back to bed. Honestly he would rather curl up on the sofa with one of his new books and just zone out for a while. But after last night he wasn't going to defy his father either. If Sirius wanted him in his bed, that's where Harry was going to go.
"Yes, sir," he said quietly, swallowing his vitamins with the last of his juice and standing up from the table.
"I need to go out for a few minutes to have a quick word with the headmaster. Remus is resting in his room, but he's here if you need him.
"Yes, sir," Harry said again before trudging slowly back into his room and shutting the door.
Sirius watched his son go with a concerned frown. Something was off about Harry and he wasn't sure it was just the emotional drain from his night terror. He would have to keep a close eye on the boy today.
But first he needed a word or twenty with Albus.
Harry obediently climbed back into his bed but, as he suspected, sleep wouldn't come so he just lay there and stared at the ceiling. He still felt terrible for upsetting Sirius so badly the previous evening. Not that his father seemed to be holding any kind of grudge. In fact, he'd been his usual kind and solicitous self.
Which only made the guilt pooled in Harry's stomach swirl even more painfully.
It didn't take a genius to see the exhaustion and weariness on the man's face this morning. Stress that Harry was responsible for putting there. He wondered how long it would be before Sirius decided that Harry simply wasn't worth the effort anymore.
********HP*********
As he stalked through the corridors of the castle Sirius released his patronus to run ahead to the headmaster's office and warn him of his arrival. Sleeking through the grounds, the silvery shape of Padfoot was enough to part the groups of surprised students as they walked about and were quick to get out of the way of the large, enchanted dog.
The message was obviously received as Sirius had no trouble getting past the gargoyle stationed at the entrance of the tower. The door opened widely for him and he sprinted up the stairs before bursting into the main room. Albus was sitting calmly at his desk, not bothered by the abruptness of Sirius' arrival in the least. Looking over the rim of his spectacles, the old man smiled.
"A pleasure, as always, Sirius. How can I assist you this morning?"
He held out a dish of candies in offering as he spoke, causing Sirius to narrow his eyes at the offending sweets. He was no longer a child that needed to be placated with sugar when face to face with the daunting headmaster.
"The time has come, Albus," Sirius stated bluntly, wasting no time. "I want you to transfer the sealing of the blood charm from Petunia Dursley to myself. Immediately, please."
If he was taken aback, Dumbledore didn't show it. Instead he popped a piece of crystallized pineapple in his mouth and sat quietly for a moment until it began to melt on his tongue.
"You know that's not possible, my boy," he said finally. "Harry needs the protection that Petunia's blood provides."
"Rubbish!" Sirius swore as he sat down in one of the chairs uninvited. As much as he respected Dumbledore's talents, he was simply unwilling to have an outsider continue to call the shots for his family. The time had long passed for Sirius and Sirius alone to have the final say in anything to do with Harry.
"We both know that's not the only way this works," he snapped at the old wizard. While not as proficient as Albus, Sirius wasn't exactly inept in regards to the complexities of magic either. "Harry had two parents that gave their lives for him that night in Godric's Hollow. James' sacrifice is just as valid as Lily's and if it's a blood relative that's needed, I would remind you that James was my cousin by blood, just as Harry is."
He took a moment to let the words sink in. Not just to firmly convince himself of that detail, but to make it clear that the Muggles who had no independent ability to protect Harry were not the best choice to keep the boy safe.
"What's more, there's no requirement for the bond on how closely the victim and the beneficiary need to be related. And if it's a question of love, I still love James as a brother to this day," he continued. "Certainly far more than Petunia loved Lily as a sister the night she died. If anything, I'm the better candidate. I would die for Harry a thousand times over. Can she say the same?"
"I'm afraid I can't allow this, Sirius," Albus said regretfully, shaking his head. "We cannot afford to take the risk that magic itself will not see you as a suitable replacement for the bond."
Sirius scoffed and every bit of Black family pride and disdain seethed in his gray eyes.
"And I'm afraid you have no choice, Albus," he retorted, shaking his head sadly. "I'm not asking for your consent, I'm telling you this is going to happen. Harry is my son and I have welcomed him into my home. It's done. It would, of course, be better if you were the one to transfer the sealing since it was you who originated it, but I'll find someone else who will if you won't. I'm sure the goblins will help me if the price is right."
The two men stared at each other, each unwilling to back down from their positions. While they both had Harry's best interests in mind, their idea of what those best interests were, were decidedly much different.
"My great-great grandson is right, Albus. Even if his manners are appalling."
Both Sirius and Dumbledore looked up at the wall where the painting of Phineas Nigellus Black was hung. Each of them had forgotten for the moment that their conversation was not entirely private.
"Tell the boy the truth. Tell him that the wards for the Muggles' house are failing. Sirius may be a Gryffindor blood traitor, but he's still a Black and not an idiot."
Sirius turned to glare at Dumbledore for this new information. The anger he'd been forcefully suppressing beginning to rise.
"You knew? For how long?"
"Since the day you took Harry to live with you at Celestial Court," Dumbledore admitted. "When the boy first began thinking of it as his home."
Disgusted, Sirius shook his head as his eyes flared with rage.
"You had no right to keep this from us, Albus," he spat. "None at all! Every day that the summer holiday draws nearer I have been dreading the fact that I have to take my son back to that house of horrors! Did you know that those people put bars on his bedroom window? BARS! They made him a prisoner! When he was just a boy."
Sirius was shaking with emotion by the time he ended his rant. The idea of his beloved child being locked up, like he had been himself, ripping his guts out. Having said his piece, he stood and took several deep cleansing breaths.
"I forgave you for letting me rot in Azkaban," he stated calmly. "But I will not forgive you for allowing a child to be treated so abominably. Harry doesn't belong to the wizarding world, Albus. He belonged to his parents and I intend to make sure that he's protected and raised the way they would have wanted him to be."
He looked over to the headmaster to make sure that the man saw the resolve on his own face. After a few tense seconds, Dumbledore gave a single nod.
"I'm taking Harry on holiday tomorrow until the start of the new term," Sirius informed him as he walked towards the door. " I would appreciate it if you could have the ritual sorted before we leave."
"If that is your wish, Sirius."
"It is," Sirius nodded before turning to Phineas' portrait. "Thank you, Grandfather. For your honesty."
He stormed out the door, the heavy stone swinging shut behind him with loud BANG!, so he didn't see Dumbledore's shoulders sag heavily as he began to formulate a new plan.
**********HP**********
Remus was reading by the fireplace by the time Sirius returned to the residence.
He'd made a quick side trip up to the owlery to give Xerxes the invitation he had scribbled for the Weasleys regarding the potential holiday getaway. He also stopped by to have a chat and a cuppa with Minerva. Both to inform her as Harry's head of house that he was taking Harry out of school for the rest of the break as well as to discuss his conversation with Albus.
Minerva wasn't quiet about the fact that she had never trusted the Dursleys from the first moment she laid eyes on them. To say that she heartily approved of Sirius' plans was an understatement. She congratulated him on standing up for Harry's best interests and pledged her support in helping to make sure that Sirius' wishes were honored.
Honestly, he breathed a sigh of relief when he left her office. She would make a formidable ally in case Dumbledore proved to be difficult.
"You're looking better."
Remus glanced up from his book and immediately frowned.
"And you look terrible."
Sirius scowled as he removed his cloak and hung it up next to the door. "Thank you very much. Wanker."
"Don't shoot the messenger, Padfoot," Remus protested as he turned a page. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"Not much," Sirius admitted, rubbing his tired eyes. "Speaking of sleeping, is Harry still in his bed?"
Feeling a brief chill, Sirius walked over to the fire and warmed his hands. His nightmare had made him a little more sensitive to the cold today than usual.
"As far as I know. I haven't seen him yet."
Wanting to check on his son, Sirius padded softly over to Harry's bedroom door and opened it just enough to take a quick peek. To his surprise, Harry was lying perfectly still under the blanket, although he was wide awake and staring at the ceiling.
"Harry?" he called softly as he walked in and moved over to the boy's bed. "Did you manage to get any more rest?"
Sighing, Harry shook his head as Sirius sat down and assessed him with a concerned frown.
"Still upset over the nightmare?"
"No, sir."
"Is it your head again? Do you need another tonic?"
"No, sir."
That made four sirs already this morning and no Sirius or, to Sirius' sadness, no Papa. And while Harry was a nice and polite boy most of the time, even he was only this formal when he was upset about something.
A habit that Sirius had already learned the hard way once last summer.
A worrying idea began forming in his mind and he leaned over to stroke Harry's cheek with his thumb. The boy leaned into the touch, so whatever it was, he wasn't giving Sirius the cold shoulder.
"Then are you cross with me?" he ventured further. "For punishing you last night?"
Harry shook his head fervently as he began to fiddle with the hem of his blanket. "No, sir."
Five.
"Because I may have only been your Papa for one day," Sirius reminded him with a sad smile, "but I'm not ashamed to admit that I already miss hearing you say it."
A quick flash of hurt passed over Harry's face before he concentrated on the blanket again. Sirius could see the boy's mouth working as if he was deciding whether or not to say something, so he waited patiently until Harry was ready.
"I wasn't sure you'd still want me to," Harry finally whispered. "After the way I behaved."
Sirius' heart dropped into his stomach. Even after all this time, Harry was still insecure about how much he was loved and wanted.
"Sit up a little for me," he coaxed. Wanting Harry's full attention to what he was about to say.
Harry obediently dragged himself upward until he was leaning with his back against the headboard of his bed. From the look of dread on his face, he seemed sure that what Sirius was about to say was going to be hard to handle.
"That's not how a family works," Sirius firmly stated, reaching out to take Harry by the chin so he could see the truth of his father's words. "My love for you doesn't depend on how you behave."
Harry frowned before shrugging a little and looking away. "That's how it worked with your family."
That wasn't actually the truth. Orion Black had been a distant and abusive father all of Sirius' youth. His already fierce hatred and disdain only increasing against his eldest son after Sirius' first year at school. And as for his mother...
"Well, it's not how this family works," Sirius insisted instead. "You and I will have many more disagreements between us as you grow up. But you will always be my son, no matter what. I love you, Harry James."
Harry looked back up, the desire to believe Sirius' words shining in his green eyes. Sirius held his arms out in welcome and after a brief second of hesitancy Harry fell into his embrace.
"You're the only person that's ever said that to me," Harry mumbled quietly into his shoulder.
Sirius stilled as his blood ran cold. The hard truth behind those words just occurring to him for the first time. Of course those horrible people would never have told the boy they disliked so much that they loved him. Although Sirius was sure that they would have said it to their own son in front of Harry often enough to make sure that he would know the same didn't apply to him.
They wouldn't have cared how much it hurt a little boy who just wanted to be part of a family.
It made him sick to his stomach that his son had no one tell him that he was loved in almost thirteen years.
He gripped Harry tighter, as if by strength alone Sirius could convince him just how much he was loved now.
"Your Mum and Dad said it to you all the time," he assured the boy as he held him close. "From the moment you were no larger than a tiny Snitch in Lily's tummy. And I have and always will love you to the moon and back and back again."
Harry burrowed further into his father's chest, a lot of the tension he'd been holding in since the previous evening bleeding out of his limbs.
"I love you too, Papa."
Sirius held him tight for another moment before pulling back with a smile.
"And I have another Christmas gift for you, little one. You're never going back to those people. Ever again. I promise."
***********HP********