A/N Much shorter chapter, setting up the trip they are taking in the next chapter. Enjoy
**********HP**************
It was cold, so very cold.
His teeth were chattering so hard that his jaw was beginning to ache, but he couldn't worry about physical discomfort to himself at the moment. All that mattered was getting through the infuriatingly endless curtain of slimy weeds that almost entirely obscured his vision. Using his webbed hands, he yanked fiercely again and again and again, ripping them from their roots and tossing them aside, only to be met with more instantly materializing in front of him.
He was surrounded now.
All he could see in every direction was a green cascade, spilling to the front and to the sides and even behind him, where he'd just breached the barrier they maliciously created between him and the people he loved.
Desperate, he grabbed at his wand holster only to find it maddeningly empty. The scream of frustration that wanted to rip out of his throat was muted by the dark, murky water choking him and came out a sickly, gurgling sound instead. His anger was momentarily displaced by the gut wrenching thought of how terribly disappointed his father would be in Harry for not arming himself properly.
All that training Sirius had spent hours giving, repeatedly drilling into him the importance of making sure that he was carrying his wand at all times, all wasted because Harry didn't listen. And now his Papa could be in mortal danger because Harry was stupid and reckless and there was no one else to save him.
Because even through the thick weeds he could hear them singing.
The grating noise of their warbling voices increasingly devolving into a sound that was becoming more and more like the whine that a dying pipe organ from a carnival fun-house would make. Their taunting words were wheezy and screechy, but still clear enough to make his heart race as he feverishly tried again to make his way forward.
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
Risking a quick glance at his wrist, Harry saw that he didn't have his watch on him either and he tried to scream again only to have his mouth muffled by the weeds. He felt himself twisting away from them, but he couldn't get free because they were everywhere, no matter which way he turned. Then from under his feet he suddenly felt them snaking their way around his ankles, determined to keep him immobilized.
Panicking, he frantically kicked at them, but the more he kicked the tighter they wrapped him up. Using his still free arms in a last ditch attempt to escape, he ruthlessly pushed his way through the stalks, his shoulders burning with the effort it took. Somehow he managed to move forward an inch at a time, even with his trapped legs still tethered to the bottom of the lake, until finally he broke through his slimy prison to see the village square of the merpeople.
The enormous merperson statue, covered in a layer of decaying moss, loomed in front of him. Cold and unyielding, dead dispassionate eyes of stone sweeping over him. Harry looked immediately to the large tail and was rewarded with the sight of his father, Ron and Hermione all tethered to it, right where they should be.
Heaving a sigh of relief, he renewed his struggles to get free because he was so close now and his loved ones were still alive, the thin ropes of bubbles drifting upwards from their mouths assuring him of this fact.
But before he could get any closer, there were suddenly three mer-warriors floating behind the captives, armed with razor sharp spears and their evil smirks of yellowed, broken teeth openly mocking his futile efforts. The next thing Harry knew, his father and best friends were yanked from their tethers and were being dragged away from the statue and towards the endless expanse of black water.
"Nooooo!"
The scream ripped from his throat as he thrashed like a maniac and somewhere around him he heard the crashing sound of lightning. He tried punching and flailing his way free before they were taken too far where he couldn't find them again, but out of nowhere a strong pair of hands grasped him from behind and he couldn't move.
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
Again and again, the verse rebounded around him, like the sing-song refrain of a child's playground melody. Harry tried to slap his hands over his ears so he wasn't forced to hear the words celebrating his failure, but the tight fingers holding him stopped him before he could lift his arms.
In the distance, he caught a last glimpse of his father's face as he was hauled closer to the inky blackness. Pale and sickly looking in the unnatural florescence of the water, Sirius opened his eyes and mouthed 'help me' to Harry before he disappeared completely into the dark.
"PAPA!"
The guttural cry burst out of Harry's chest as he tried again to thrust out his arms and reach for his father, but they were helplessly pinned to his side by the creature stopping him from following in the path of the warriors and their captives. Deep gasps of loss bubbled up from his chest as he twisted and fought the restraints, his strength starting to leave him as he was overwhelmed with the pain.
"It's okay. It's okay."
The voice behind his ear was growing more insistent as Harry struggled in his bonds. Bereft, he felt streams of hot tears trailing down his cheeks, knowing that nothing was even remotely okay. Unable to get free and feeling utterly helpless, he gave up his fight and keened as his entire body trembled with broken wails.
It was all his fault.
Everything bad that ever happened to the people he loved was always all his fault.
The restraining arms around him pulled him closer until he was pressed up again a solid wall of muscle. Harry fought back weakly, ineffectively trying to push away as much as he could, but the grip around him got tighter and he wasn't strong enough to escape.
"I'm here, little one. It's okay. Wake up now."
A small part of Harry's muddled conscious somehow managed to recognize the voice and it forced him to still for a brief second
Slowly, painfully slowly, other senses awakened starting with him taking in his first full deep breath of the cedar and spices of his father's ever-present scent. The iron fist that had clenched in a death grip around his heart started to ease back a fraction of an inch and allowed him to begin to calm down as he eventually realized that he was being gently rocked, a soft, deep voice whispering nonsensical comforts in his ear.
The fog of sleep began to recede and Harry truly opened his eyes and found himself not at the bottom of the Black Lake but in the familiar surroundings of his own darkened bedroom. There was soft fabric under his cheek that he now recognized as his father's favorite plush robe, which meant that the arms gripping him tightly that he'd been trying so hard to escape actually belonged to Sirius and not a merperson strangling him in sea of green weeds.
A shuddering sob of relief gasped out of his mouth as Harry desperately grabbed at his father who was warm and breathing and here, clinging to Sirius like a koala bear as he was cuddled and soothed. Not wanting to wake up if he was now dreaming this, Harry shut his eyes tightly again, content to be held and sheltered when his own body was still violently shaking with the remnants of the nightmare that hadn't fully dissipated yet.
Sirius didn't ease up on the hold he had around his traumatized son, since clearly Harry had finally woken up enough to realize that he was safe and all was well, until an icy breeze drifted across the room to remind him that Harry's burst of magic in the throes of his nightmare distress had blasted out the three floor-to-ceiling windows. He gave a silent thanks to Merlin that he'd already been in Harry's room before the explosion and had been able to throw up a shield before the sharp projectiles could harm his child.
Needing to fix the mess before Harry really was frozen, Sirius shifted his wand arm away from the boy's back, eliciting a whimper of protest from Harry who desperately grabbed at his father's shirt as if Sirius was preparing to move away.
"It's okay," he whispered, rocking his child just a bit. "I just want to fix the broken glass. I'm not going anywhere."
Harry didn't give any sign that he understood what his father was talking about, but with the increase in pressure that Sirius' remaining arm put in its embrace around Harry's shoulders, the boy calmed again as he nestled his face in the crook of Sirius' neck.
"Reparo!" Sirius muttered softly, holding his wand aloft while the million pieces of shards and splinters rushed to re-thread themselves until the windows and their frames were once again intact.
In his arms Harry shuddered again and Sirius swore under his breath, knowing that he had to get some chocolate into his son to help ward off the vestiges of his nightmare if there was any chance of getting the boy back to sleep. Quickly he patted down his robe pockets and fished out one of his bags of chocolate buttons, profoundly grateful that he hadn't finished all of them himself after his own nightmare a few days ago.
One handed, Sirius plucked a piece of chocolate from the bag and shifted just enough to be able to hold it in front of Harry's mouth.
"Harry, can you eat one of these for me, please? You'll feel better, little one. I promise."
Still fairly dazed, Harry obediently opened his mouth and allowed Sirius to feed the candy to him, like a broken little bird taking food from its mother. Slowly chewing on the sweet disc, Harry could feel the shivers that had been wracking his body begin to level out. The boy heaved a deep sigh of relief as he felt the despair slowly recede knowing that he was safe in his father's arms.
"Sorry," he mumbled, his voice hoarse and scratchy from all the screaming. He ducked his head as he surreptitiously swiped at his still damp eyes with the back of his hand. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," his father assured him, offering another candy that Harry reached out to take this time before popping it into his mouth. "I was still up reading."
Harry allowed himself another moment of comfort snuggled against his father's chest and accepted two more pieces of chocolate even though he felt his face blushing with embarrassment. Finally he forced himself to pull away from his father's hold and leaned back against the headboard of his bed. The boy felt entirely wrung out as he reached up to rub his face only to be restrained by Sirius gently but firmly pulling Harry's hands towards him.
"Oh, Sweet Merlin," Sirius clucked sadly, shaking his head. "What did you do to yourself?"
In the dim light of the room, both of them were now looking at Harry's fingers and palms which were an angry red and striped with thin bloody cuts from where he had shredded part of his sheet and blanket. Truthfully, Harry hadn't even felt anything until he actually looked at the raw mess in front of him, but now that he was seeing it, both hands were suddenly burning with pain.
Sirius took one hand at a time in his own and then cast a healing charm that soothed the ache and healed the small cuts. Harry hissed a bit as the skin mended itself, but the soreness was already receding by the time his father had finished with treatment of both and was now untangling the blanket that had twisted around Harry's ankles.
Mercifully Sirius didn't comment on any of the mess and Harry felt another shiver running through him as he had a quick flashback of the weeds trapping him. Once his feet were free, Harry pushed the ruined bedding off of him, allowing his father to banish it all and summon replacements. Unable to help himself, the boy shivered again and wrapped his arms around his torso before his father turned to cast a warming charm on the new blankets.
"I'm going to summon Bicky for some hot chocolate," Sirius said cautiously, knowing how the house elves popping in and out could unnerve his son these days. "Is that alright?"
Nodding, Harry pulled the warm new blanket up to his chin and huddled underneath it. He didn't necessarily want any cocoa, but he knew well enough by now that a wizard's biology reacted to chocolate in a much stronger way than a non-magical would. Whereas a Muggle could enjoy the small rush of endorphins that eating chocolate might bring them, a wizard or witch positively thrived on it.
"Do you want to maybe take a hot bath?"
Sirius was looking at his still trembling child worriedly as Harry shook his head. Normally Harry felt better after a bath when he had one of his night terrors, but he was pretty sure in this particular case, that wouldn't be the best thing for him.
"Don't really want to be in any water right now," Harry confessed quietly, averting his eyes so his father didn't see how much the idea upset him.
Of course, Sirius wasn't an idiot, nor was he a stranger himself to the horrors that disturbing sleep could bring. After one of his Azkaban nightmares, he had his own personal issues and aversions.
"That's alright," he assured his son, reaching out to smooth some of the damp hair away from Harry's still flushed face. "Every time I get one of my nightmares about Azkaban, I can't bear to be cold for awhile either."
The look of sheer gratitude that his son flashed him just about undid Sirius completely. His poor child had suffered so much in silence without having anyone to empathize with him. Sirius leaned over to press a kiss against Harry's temple and the boy closed his eyes and snuggled against the warmth of his father's solid body for a few seconds before hurriedly pulling away again.
Really Sirius would have much preferred it if his son would just accept the comfort, but having been a teenage boy himself, he completely understood the limit of a fourteen-year-old's pride.
Thankfully, Sirius had already spoken to the house elves about being careful not to startle Harry, especially in the middle of the night, so instead of popping directly into his son's room, Bicky answered her master's summons by rapping softly on the door. With elf magic, it was only a brief minute before she returned with a warm pot of chocolate, some biscuits and two mugs.
Sirius thanked her and then dismissed her before pouring the mugs himself. He handed one to his son who took it gingerly in his hands and slowly sipped at it under his father's insistent gaze.
"I'm sorry for all the fuss," Harry muttered over the top of his mug. "It's so stupid."
Sirius' face grew stern as he shook his head.
"It's not stupid and you have nothing to apologize for, understand?" he said firmly. "Something terribly distressing happened to you less than two weeks ago. You're allowed to be upset about it for as long as you need to be. And I'm more than happy to fuss over you as much as you'll let me."
Harry didn't exactly look convinced but he nodded his head anyway as he took another sip of cocoa. The tips of his ears were burning bright red with embarrassment as he looked over at the newly repaired windows and slowly pieced together what had happened to them.
"D'you think anyone heard?"
"No," Sirius assured him, absurdly grateful for the game of musical bedrooms Remus and Harry's friends had played earlier in the evening. "The guest wing is far enough away for the sound not to have carried."
After Augusta's visit, Sirius and Remus had talked about the very real possibility that Neville would not be the last student to join them at Celestial Court. Not that they had any inkling of who else would come knocking, but clearly word had started to get around. Quietly, Remus had spoken to Ron and Hermione and they'd all agreed that it was probably a good idea to take up residence in the guest wing and allow Harry and his father to have some well deserved privacy in the family wing.
The three of them had relocated to new suites in less than half an hour and although Harry had put up a token protest, Sirius could tell that his son wasn't exactly unhappy that the two of them would have the family wing just to themselves once again.
Especially since the nightmares seemed to be coming more and more frequently and his father's presence and comfort was something the boy needed after suffering through one. Sirius knew it would be easier on his son without the embarrassment of Harry's friends so close by.
They sat in silence for a bit while Harry sipped his cocoa. He didn't really want to talk about the nightmare and his father really didn't want to push him to do so if it made the boy uncomfortable. Sirius knew that sometimes it was just enough to have the physical presence of a loved one when you were feeling rough and vulnerable. He waited patiently until his son smothered a yawn behind his hand before speaking again.
"Do you think you can get back to sleep now?"
"I suppose," Harry shrugged, more than a bit unhappily, and put his empty mug on the nightstand. "I'm sure you're tired so you don't have to hang out here with me."
Slipping under the blankets until he was lying down again, Harry turned his face so his father couldn't see how pinched it was from his efforts to be brave and not need Sirius to stay to comfort him.
"And what if I said I wanted to hang out here?" Sirius asked gently, reaching over to run an affectionate hand over the top of his son's head. "Would that be okay?"
He could see that Harry was struggling to force himself to say no, but it really didn't take all that much for his unwillingness to be left all alone so soon after the nightmare to win out.
"Yes, please, Papa," Harry answered in the tiniest voice possible.
Sirius' chest ached from the sorrow he could hear in his son's tone. That very distinct pain that all parents felt when they couldn't simply just make it all better for their children with the wave of a wand. It was the most helpless feeling on the planet.
Moving over to the other side of Harry's bed, he kicked off his slippers and sat back against the headboard as he stretched his legs out in front of him. Grabbing one of the extra pillows, he laid it on his lap and held his arms out to his son.
"C'mere, kiddo."
Monumentally relieved, Harry didn't hesitate for a second as he slid over to curl up against his father with his head on the pillow in Sirius' lap. Closing his eyes, he allowed the soothing feeling of his father's fingers carding through his hair lull him towards sleep.
"Would you like to hear about the time your Dad and I outran the Muggle bobbies on my motorbike?"
A nod accompanied by a small chuckle answered him and Sirius smiled fondly as he dredged up the memories of that day from the recesses of his mind.
"Well, for starters, it wasn't really my fault that we were speeding through Picadilly Circus at three a.m."
Thankfully, Harry was deeply slumbering before Sirius had to admit to violating the Statute of Secrecy since no parent ever wants to lose any leverage they might have in making sure their own kids behave
*****************HP*****************
Monday morning came unfortunately early for Sirius who had slept mostly against Harry's headboard. A fact that was attested to by his sore back with every step he took in getting washed up and dressed.
By the time he heard the floo roar to life for the second time, he knew that it was late and he really had to get a move on as it wouldn't do for the headmaster to be tardy on the very first day of classes.
Except for Harry, Sirius was the last to assemble at the long table in the dining room after Neville and Augusta's arrival. Across the table it was clear to see that Hugh and Jean were still getting used to having food appear from thin air, objects moving of their own accord and animated photos surrounding them, but otherwise it was a cozy setting as the large group tucked in to a very nice breakfast feast.
Neville, Ron and Hermione were wearing the new Fulminare uniforms which made Sirius involuntarily grimace.
The uniforms had been a large bone of contention between himself, Molly and Jean for most of the previous week and he still didn't like the idea of them. Sirius might be exceptionally fastidious over the rest of the school procedures and policies outlined by the ICW, but actual uniforms were the one thing that he'd wanted to dispense with since he'd never enjoyed wearing one when he was a student.
After all, it wasn't as if a scratchy jumper and stiff trousers contributed to making one smarter.
Unfortunately, he'd eventually been browbeaten into submission by both Molly and Jean insisting that if Fulminare was to be a proper school, then the students would wear a uniform just like the rest of magical and non-magical British secondary students.
Sirius thought it was more important that the kids were comfortable, firmly believing that they would retain more of what they were being taught if they weren't pulling at tight collars and fidgeting in clunky dress shoes, but the ladies relentlessly argued that teenagers swiftly allowed themselves to become all too relaxed in general if there weren't rules in place for them.
A uniform would remind them that Fulminare was a real spot of education and not just an extended slumber party with a few classes thrown in.
It wasn't a hill that Sirius was willing to die on, so he finally gave in with the proviso that Molly and Jean could sort it all out as long as what they chose wasn't constricting. There would be no ties or starchy shirts or long robes to trip over.
Period.
The result was sharp red polo shirts with short sleeves, with black trousers for the boys and a red and black plaid skirt for Hermione. As a concession, Sirius did agree to design the school crest which was emblazoned on the left front pocket of the polos. A flashing iridescent lightning bolt repeatedly striking against a stormy black background.
Hugh and Jean were still getting used to that little bit of magic as well.
"Good morning!" Sirius greeted as cheerfully as he could."Are we all excited for today?"
That seemed to set off a chain reaction of chatter which was fine as it negated the necessity of him speaking again before he had a strong cup of coffee. He frowned at Harry's empty seat and was just about to go in search of his child when Harry came stumbling into the room.
Harry's hair was still wet from a very recent shower and, not quite hidden behind his round spectacles, his slightly red eyes had dark circles around them. The boy mumbled a soft 'good morning' to everyone and then slid into his chair at his father's right hand.
"Alright, little one?" Sirius asked quietly, making sure the others weren't listening.
Nodding, Harry reached for his glass of pumpkin juice then blanched a little and pushed it back again.
"Just a bit of a sour stomach."
Sirius understood perfectly well. You tended to get all tied up in knots with bad dreams and restless sleep. Without commenting, he put a couple of pieces of dry toast on his son's plate and gave Harry's shoulder a quick squeeze before turning to answer a question from Augusta about the exam schedule.
Across the table Hermione could see her friend struggling as Harry nibbled on a piece of toast but she didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable or draw unnecessary attention to him when he was obviously having a bad morning. Resolving to keep an eye on him later, she looked away and began a conversation with her mother about what she could expect to see in their Transfiguration class this morning instead.
Soon enough they'd all eaten their fill and the plates vanished in the blink of an eye while a scroll of parchment on which the weekly schedule was neatly printed appeared in front of everyone. Of course they all had a general idea of what was involved, but this was the first time for the kids and Augusta to see it laid out all at once.
Even Sirius had to admit that it was a bit intimidating now that it was in black and white.
Monday and Wednesday
07:00 – 08:00 - Breakfast
08:00 - 09:00 - Transfiguration (Professor S. Black)
09:00 - 09:15 - Break
09:15 - 10:15 - Charms (Professor R. Lupin)
10:15 - 10:30 - Break
10:30 - 12:00 - Potions (Professor S. Black)
12:00 - 13:00 - Lunch
13:00 - 14:00 - Defense Against the Dark Arts (Professor R. Lupin)
14:00 - 14:15 - Break
14:15 – 15:15 – Arithmancy (Profs. S. Black/R. Lupin)
15:15 – 15:30 – Break
15:30 - 16:30 – History of Magic (Professor R. Lupin)
16:30 – 18:00 – Study
18:00 – 19:00 – Dinner
Tuesday and Friday
07:00 – 08:00 - Breakfast
08:00 - 09:00 – French (Professor J. Granger)
09:00 - 09:15 - Break
09:15 - 10:15 – World History (Professor H. Granger)
10:15 - 10:30 - Break
10:30 - 12:00 – Biology (Professor J. Granger)
12:00 - 13:00 – Lunch
13:00 – 14:00 – English Literature (Professor H. Granger)
14:00 - 14:15 - Break
14:15 – 15:15 – Algebra (Professor J. Granger)
15:15 – 15:30 – Break
15:30 - 16:30 – Geography (Professor H. Granger)
16:30 – 18:00 – Study
18:00 – 19:00 – Dinner
Thursday
07:00 – 08:00 – Breakfast
08:00 – 09:00 – Herbology (Professor M. Weasley)
09:00 - 09:15 - Break
09:15 – 10:15 – Ancient Runes (Profs S. Black/R. Lupin)
10:15 – 20:00 – Muggle Studies Field Trip
Saturday
07:00 – 08:00 – Breakfast
08:00 – 09:00 – Herbology (Professor M. Weasley)
09:00 - 09:15 – Break
09:15 – 10:15 – Ancient Runes (Profs S. Black/R. Lupin)
10:15 – 10:30 – Break
10:30 – 12:00 – Healing (Professor M. Weasley)
12:00 – 13:00 – Lunch
13:00 – 22:00 – Free
22:00 – 23:00 – Astronomy (Professor S. Black)
"Blimey."
Ron's response fairly accurately summed up the feelings of both the other boys.
In contrast, Hermione held her scroll like she'd just been given an exquisite treasure, her face beaming at her equally enthused parents. Harry's face scrunched up in worry as he looked warily at his father who was trying to give him an encouraging nod.
Shoving his parchment aside Ron groaned and flopped against the back of his chair, earning himself a sharp reprimand from his mother. Poor Neville just looked vaguely sick.
"Okay, you lot," Sirius finally said, standing from his chair and taking charge of the situation. "I know it's all a bit daunting, but I have complete confidence that everyone will manage it quite nicely. Remember, you have five professors here to make sure that you get all the help you need, so let's not panic just yet. Alright?"
Although the boys as well as Augusta were mostly still skeptical, Sirius was eventually met with various degrees of acceptance and before anyone realized it, the large grandfather clock in the hall chimed eight o'clock.
"Right!" Sirius clapped his hands and motioned for the kids to get up and get moving. "Time to start."
Harry waited until everyone was up from the table and moving towards the library before approaching his father at the door. He knew without Sirius even saying anything that the man was worried about him.
"I'm okay," Harry muttered quietly, allowing Sirius to sweep a concerned hand over the top of Harry's messy hair. "Really. I'll eat at lunch, I promise."
Sirius didn't look convinced, but there wasn't much he could do about it now so he nodded and allowed his son to go on ahead into the newly designed classroom. At least with the new arrangement he could keep a closer watch on his son throughout the day, although Harry would surely grow tired of his father hovering around the clock before very long.
And because it was the first day, it had been decided that all the adults would be sitting in on today's classes. Hugh and Jean wanted a clearer idea of how to go about their own classes the following day and Augusta was making sure that the material being taught was actually acceptable and not just a bunch of jumped up ambitions backed by little substance.
Sirius tried hard to not take that as an insult.
His Transfiguration class started with a demonstration and practice of Strigiforma, and while the Grangers were impressed with the concept of magic being performed, neither of them really understood exactly what the point of today's lesson was.
"Why is it helpful to be able to turn owls into opera glasses?"
Hugh's innocent question got him shrugs from the kids who were used to these kinds of lessons as they continued to transfigure their owls and back again, as well as puzzled looks from the magical adults, making him somehow feel like he was the strange one for even asking.
But by the end of the day, the kids were feeling a little better about the schedule, once they saw how patiently Sirius and Remus were presenting the material. The Grangers were well and truly gobsmacked by their daughter's talents and Augusta declined an invitation to stay for dinner as she was more than ready to go home and feeling quite smug over being correct in her assumption that her grandson was smarter than his report card generally indicated..
All in all, a pretty good success.
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Harry yawned again as the server finished depositing the enormous amount of food on their table. Although it was well after lunch hour, the Great Court restaurant at the British Museum was still abuzz with the throngs of visitors all clamoring for a bite to eat between darting through the exhibits.
Sirius chose not to comment as he spread the heavily laden afternoon tea trays between the empty places at the table. Remus had Ron, Hermione and Neville moving at a slower pace through a second pass in the Egyptian rooms as Ron, who'd originally been unimpressed with the idea of Muggle London, chattered non-stop about things he'd seen the previous year when the family visited Bill.
Hermione was positively giddy over the chance to have a proper afternoon tea at the museum and Sirius and Harry had gone ahead to reserve a table and order food for them all as Harry was practically falling asleep on his feet.
Loading a plate with a selection of finger sandwiches, Sirius put them in front of his son with a very firm look on his face.
"Eat. You've hardly had a bite all day."
Last night brought another terror filled trip down Second Task memory lane and Sirius knew that his son's lack of rest wasn't sustainable. Although Harry was working hard to keep up with his classes and wasn't in any danger of falling behind, something needed to change.
"I was just excited about today, is all," Harry protested weakly as he reached for a smoked salmon and cream cheese and stuffed half of it in his mouth to appease his father.
"Well, if that's true, then I'm glad," Sirius nodded, although his tone still denoted disbelief. "Actually, I was surprised when you said you hadn't been here before. Didn't your primary school take trips like this? That's what your Mum always said."
Harry stiffened for a moment and then swallowed his mouthful of sandwich and took a sip from his cola.
"The school did," he answered quietly, his face taking on the humiliated blush that set Sirius' teeth on edge. "But I wasn't allowed to go."
While Harry finished the rest of the salmon and then plucked an egg and cress from the tray, Sirius counted to ten in his head and silently swore in every language he knew.
"I don't suppose I have to guess why," he said a bit more sharply than he intended. "Do I?"
His son shrugged as he chewed his way through the second sandwich before responding.
"Dudley would always complain that he wouldn't have a good time if I got to come along," Harry said matter-of-fact, as if it wasn't a horrible thing to do to a small child. "So Uncle Vernon wouldn't sign the permission slips for me. They told all my teachers that I didn't know how to behave in public, so I wasn't to go on any class outing. But Aunt Petunia didn't want me at home all day either, so I would always have to sit outside the headmaster's office by myself until the final bell."
Sirius practically lost his mind as he watched his son shrug again and reach for another sandwich like everything was just fine. The rage he felt building up inside of him was creeping dangerously close to making him lose control of his magic. Something he knew he couldn't afford to do in Muggle public.
When he finally couldn't stand it any longer, he reached out and took his son by the chin and looked directly into the expressive green eyes.
"For the rest of the term, you get to pick where we go every Thursday, okay?" Sirius vowed to his abused son. "Anywhere you want to go. Anything you want to see."
Harry blushed even harder from the vehemence in his father's voice, but there was a pleased smile dancing around his mouth as he nodded. The past didn't seem to matter as much when he was as loved and cherished as he was now.
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Having been an unwanted child himself who had often been excluded from a lot of things that his family did, Sirius was more than good for his word when he noisily barged without warning into his son's room at the crack of dawn Sunday morning. He even managed to smirk at the pathetic groan that came from the mound of blankets huddled piteously on the boy's bed.
While Harry hadn't had a nightmare this time, it was clear that he was still sleepy after the late night Astronomy class the night before and didn't appreciate the unexpected intrusion.
Placing the small silver tray holding a pot of hot cocoa and a freshly baked chocolate croissant on the nightstand, Sirius playfully leaped over his grumpy son's blanketed mass and landed with a bouncing thud on the other side of the bed.
"Wake up my little sleepyhead!" he sing-songed as his testy teenager burrowed further under his bedding.
A softly cast Rictusempra made the boy squeak as he desperately twisted in a futile attempt to make the tickling stop. As cute as it was, Sirius cancelled the charm after just a few seconds and Harry peeked out from his blanket fortress long enough to glare at his father before covering himself again.
"Go away," the boy grumbled. "I'm sleeping because some nutter had us looking at stars in the middle of the night."
Sirius barked a laugh, happy that his son was acting like a regular kid for a change and not the stressed out mess that he'd been most of the week because of the night terrors.
"Okay," he agreed with a mischievous grin as he pulled back the blanket enough to drop a kiss on his son's ratty bed-head and a playful swat on the boy's bum. "I guess you don't want to fly to Paris with me on my motorbike today after all."
Ignoring his suddenly awake and sputtering child, Sirius laughed to himself and quickly strode out of the room as Harry called out after him.
"Papa, wait! Can I drive?"