A/N Hello dear readers! As always, thanks for the reviews!
On a side note, when I began to write this story, oh-so-long-ago, I, like many authors, made the calculating decision to identify Charlus and Dorea Potter as James' parents as interpreted from the Black Family Tree.
Since then, JK Rowling has...made some...interesting...changes to canon (*cough* Cursed Child *cough*), one of which was the introduction of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. For continuity sake, I will continue to use Charlus and Dorea in name and relation to Sirius by blood, and incorporate Fleamont's professional history when talking about Harry's grandparents. Just because at this point Rowling has made quite a hot mess of things already and I feel no guilt.
***********HP***********************
Harry yawned widely as he leaned against Sirius' enormous motorbike.
The early morning sun, shimmering in hues of pinks and oranges and still climbing slowly into the sky, was giving off just enough warmth to take away the worst of the chill in the air. Not wanting a repeat of the cold he'd had recently, the boy was glad of the heavy wool coat his father bought for him at the start of winter.
In years past, he'd had to make do in frigid weather with either his school cloak or whatever ratty old coat Dudley had grown out of and neither of those options had ever made the slight boy feel completely warm.
Despite the overall feeling of mental tiredness from the lack of sleep all week, he was pretty excited to be going on today's trip with his Papa. Their very first one with just the two of them since they began to live together. Not that he hadn't enjoyed their Christmas holiday to the island with the Weasley family, but sometimes he preferred to spend time with Sirius alone.
After all, they'd only been a family for less than a year, and Harry wasn't nearly even close to the point where he'd chafe over the idea of spending time with his father like other kids his age might.
Speaking of whom, the double rear doors of the chateau suddenly swung open and Harry watched wide-eyed as a very different Sirius came striding out of them. Startled by the abrupt change in the man's appearance, the boy did a quick double-take because long gone was the very stern headmaster that Sirius had been all week, and in his place was a much more casual version of the Sirius Black that Harry's usually rigid pure-blood father rarely allowed himself to show anymore.
His long hair, instead of falling neatly in waves to brush his shoulders, was scraped back into a rakish half ponytail with just a single wayward lock hanging down the side of the pair of dark aviator sunglasses covering his eyes. Dressed head to toe in jet black, he was wearing slim fitting jeans that accentuated his height, heavy biker boots with silver buckles that clinked when he walked and a v-neck pullover underneath the leather jacket Harry had given him for Christmas.
Quite frankly, Harry's father looked effortlessly bad-ass.
Certainly younger than the thirty-six-year-old strict parent and staid professor persona that Sirius usually exuded and much closer to the ridiculously good-looking, mischief loving, cocky and confident twenty-year-old that Harry had seen in so many photos and a few pensieve memories.
It was an entirely different side to Sirius. One that seemed to fit him much better, and honestly Harry sort of liked the change.
Although it also made the somewhat still gawky teenager look enviously at the older man and silently hope that one day he'd be able to pull off the same kind of easy swagger instead of being the awkward git that dribbled pumpkin juice down the front of his school jumper after catching the eye of a pretty girl across the Great Hall.
For a brief moment, Harry watched his father's carefree stride, just a hint of a smile on his face, and realized that this was more like the person that Azkaban had stolen from him. Not that he didn't love his father just the way he was now, but the boy couldn't help but wonder how different everything might have been for both of them if Harry had been raised by the spirited young man Sirius was before he'd been so cruelly imprisoned until he was almost a shell of his former self.
Ever since his removal from Hogwarts, Harry had been thinking a good deal more and more about the resentment he'd unknowingly been harboring deep inside himself against all the people who'd just sat by and watched while a good person like Sirius suffered unspeakable horrors that he hadn't ever deserved.
It was unforgivable.
An uncomfortable topic to say the least, and Sirius and Harry had never really talked much about that aspect of the past. The culpability of the ones who failed Sirius just at the moment he'd needed them most was an unspoken taboo in their home, and Harry hadn't really felt a strong inclination to bring up something he knew deeply upset his already troubled father.
Their time together had been consumed instead by the much more pleasant tasks of getting to know each other first and working out a way to become a family after all their years apart. Then there had been everything with Harry's unwanted destiny as well as being thrust into the Tournament that had been defining his life for the past five months. Leading to Harry being pulled from the school he'd once loved so much, but now resented more than a little.
It really hadn't left him much time to think about all the other things that his soon-to-be officially adoptive father also needed to contend with and Harry was suddenly finding himself getting increasingly furious on Sirius' behalf as time passed by.
Mired in those thoughts, Harry must have been scowling more than he realized since Sirius approached him with a fond smirk as he reached out to run a thumb over the furrowed ridges of Harry's forehead.
"Looks like someone is still a little bit grumpy," he gently teased his boy, causing Harry to glare a little.
"I'm not grumpy," Harry protested in what could only be described as a grumpy tone as he irritably pushed his father's hand away, which only made Sirius smile wider at the boy's obstinance. "I'm just freezing from waiting for you for so long."
It really hadn't been long.
But the smile on Sirius' face faded like the moonlight hiding behind a cloud as the concerned parent side of him came rushing to the forefront. He drew his wand from its holster and cast a warming charm on his son, even though he wasn't necessarily sure why it would be needed. As instructed, Harry was bundled up appropriately and it was a relatively mild temperature considering the time of the year.
Knowing that it would be much colder once they were airborne, he immediately began to rethink his plan.
"Perhaps we should just apparate instead of fly."
Too late, Harry realized that one of his rarely successful little fibs was about to lose him the opportunity to spend some much desired time in the air on his father's bike, so he quickly backpedaled.
"No!" he protested, shaking his head vigorously. "I'm okay now, really. All good. And you already promised."
That last bit came out as more of a whine because, in fact, Harry was more than okay. He hadn't actually been cold after all, and now with the charm on him, he was a little too warm. The boy also felt bad that he was unintentionally being sharp with Sirius when his currently mixed up emotions had him more inclined to want hug his father instead.
But since there was no way that Sirius wouldn't wonder why Harry was suddenly being overly affectionate first thing in the morning without a good reason, he ended up being short tempered out of frustration. Harry's little ruse meant that Sirius was now pursing his mouth and giving his son a good looking over and taking an uncomfortably long moment of internal debate before he eventually relented.
"Okay. But if you get cold, I expect you to let me know so I can land. I mean it, young man."
Harry nodded enthusiastically in agreement before his father changed his mind again.
"Yes, sir. I will."
"Alright," Sirius sighed reluctantly, worry pinching his lips into a frown as he briefly did one more thorough check of both his child and his bike. "Maybe you should ride in the sidecar. There's a blanket just in case you wanted to nap a little more. It is still pretty early."
In response, his son gave him such a sour little face that it almost made the man laugh again.
Almost.
Of course he'd known that there was little chance that his fly-happy kid would be content to perch in the sidecar like a timid passenger, but he had to give it a shot anyway. With a flick of his wand, he neatly cast a separation charm as he pulled Harry away to allow the sidecar to slide off the bike with a pop! before propelling itself back to the storage shed where the bike had been kept since they returned home.
Unencumbered without its clunky metal accompaniment, the motorbike loomed even larger than Harry remembered it and he admired it with the hungry eyes of every teenage boy who could appreciate such a powerful specimen of mechanical engineering.
"I know," Sirius whispered conspiratorially as he slung an arm around his son's shoulders. "She really is a beauty, isn't she?"
Harry nodded enthusiastically as he already began to imagine how much fun it would be to take her up in the air himself. As much as he loved his Firebolt, he knew that the charms that Sirius had put on the bike made the Triumph just as fast as most racing brooms and far more powerful.
"Too bad I'm not going to let you drive her for another couple of years."
The spell instantly broken by his father's words, Harry spun around to vehemently protest, only to be stopped by Sirius holding up a firm hand.
"You're only fourteen, little one," his father unnecessarily reminded him. "And no matter how talented you are as a flyer, this is no lightweight broomstick that you can easily maneuver. We need to build you up a little more physically before I'll be comfortable with you taking her out on your own."
"But that's so unfair," Harry protested, looking at his father with pleading eyes. "Can't I at least try before you say no?"
Shaking his head, Sirius relieved his son of the backpack Harry had slung on his left shoulder before shrinking it down and putting it in the compartment behind the seat along with his own.
"No. I'm sorry," he answered, his voice final. "I spent four years studying motorcycles before buying this one, and then only after your grandfather gave me permission, even though I was already of age. He wanted to make sure that I was strong enough and knowledgeable enough before flying it on my own."
"How did he know anything about motorcycles?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. He'd always just assumed that his pure-blood grandparents would have limited experience with anything Muggle.
"Because he took the time to learn."
Sirius ran an affectionate hand across Harry's messy hair that reminded him so much of James' as well as Mr. Potter's, making him miss both men so damn much that it physically hurt.
"Dad knew how much I wanted a bike. It was all I talked about really," Sirius laughed with a touch of melancholy. "I'd already announced that once I was of age I was going to get one, ready or not and it's fair to say that Dad wasn't pleased by my determination to do something so potentially dangerous."
He smiled sadly, his heart breaking from the memory of the heated conversations he'd had with his adoptive father over safety and the importance of making good choices. It was something he'd forgotten about in his grief that night in Godric's Hollow.
"So he learned about them too," he said to the now quiet and attentive Harry, knowing how much the boy loved to hear stories about his lost family. "And when I was old enough we went out together and picked one out. Dad insisted on casting all the charms on it himself, because he was going to make sure that I'd be safe, and then he even flew it a few times before letting me. That's what good parents do for their kids."
Harry was moved into silence by the obvious affection and respect Sirius had for his grandfather. Of course he'd known that his Papa had been close to all the Potters, but Sirius had also made it clear more than once that he viewed the Potter patriarch as his true father. The idea comforted Harry under their unique circumstances, because it was nice to have even more affirmation that blood had never really been a factor in who Sirius loved as family.
Not that the little revelation was going to change his mind about wanting to drive the bike himself.
"I could handle the bike. Ron and I flew a car when we were only twelve," Harry eventually reminded his father with a grumble, shamelessly pouting now since it didn't appear he'd be getting his way today. "A car."
"Yeah," Sirius scoffed, his brow furrowing into a glare. "Into a tree! Not the most helpful argument in your favor, kiddo. Believe me when I say that you'd still be grounded if I had been around when that happened."
The statement had Harry's face scrunching up in a frown because he knew it wasn't an idle threat. Sirius had proven many times just how low his tolerance level was when it came to Harry endangering himself. Still, it was annoying that being the son of two of Hogwarts' most notorious rule breakers didn't seem to come with any additional leeway for risky behavior.
"You realize that it makes you a hypocrite when you call me out on something like that after all the stories I've heard about you and my Dad, right?"
For a scary second Harry thought he might have crossed the line from light whinging and mild teasing straight into blatant disrespect by the way Sirius' face rapidly grew hard, but then his father pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and he looked at Harry with so much love in his eyes that it made the boy feel all warm inside.
"All parents become hypocrites eventually," Sirius admitted, brushing his fingers lightly against Harry's slightly cold cheek. "No decent father would ever be okay with his own child pulling even a fraction of the stunts he did as a lad. The health, happiness and welfare of our kids is the first thing we think of in the morning and the last thing at night."
Whatever was left of Harry's testy mood melted instantly at those words.
Ignoring his previous reservations, he leaned in and gave Sirius the hug that he'd wanted to a few minutes earlier, happy when his father wrapped him in an embrace without a second of hesitation.
Sirius' fervent declaration cuddled Harry like a warm blanket. After years of knowing nothing but cold indifference from his guardians over the life endangering escapades he'd engaged in during his school years, Harry wasn't about to complain now that someone actually cared whether he lived or died.
Burrowing further into Sirius' always open arms only reinforced the trouble Harry was lately having over accepting the past and moving on, because this was the man that should have raised him in his parents' stead. This good man who was loving and protective and who had already proven more than once that he'd fight for Harry fiercely.
Not the hateful, distant and derisive Muggles who'd never let him forget for a second how much he wasn't wanted.
Sirius didn't seem in any hurry to let Harry go either, despite the sight they must be making in their driveway, and the boy's ire was steadily growing against the people who'd forced both of them to live twelve years of hell. Feeling just as protective of Sirius as he knew the man was of him, Harry vowed to himself that he'd find a way to make them all pay for it, even if Sirius was too forgiving and kind to do it himself.
But that was a task for another day.
Right now Harry just wanted to enjoy his time with his father.
"But you promise?" the boy hedged hopefully, leaning back a bit to look Sirius in the eye. He had no interest in prolonging their argument over the bike, but he wasn't quite willing to give up his original idea either. "You'll teach me someday?"
Wrapping his arms tighter around Harry, Sirius gave him a squeeze and nodded.
"I promise. I'll even buy you one of your own for your seventeenth birthday and we'll go on regular trips together. How about that?"
Mollified, Harry allowed a small smile to spread on his face as he nodded. He couldn't think of anything better than that for a compromise.
"Now," Sirius said, pulling away after a moment. "Let's get going! Lots to see today."
He brushed a warm hand across Harry's messy fringe and motioned towards the bike. Swinging one leg over the seat, Sirius mounted the enormous frame and gave the okay for Harry to climb on behind him. Once the boy was firmly on the seat, hands ready to grip his father's waist and feet planted on the passenger pegs, Sirius half stood and kick-started the powerful engine.
The mechanical beast roared to life with a throaty growl and sent a thrill of excitement shooting through Harry's heart as his father pushed the gas and they went charging down the cobblestone drive.
"Ready?" Sirius called back, waiting for his son's nod. "Hold on!"
Harry leaned forward, wrapping his arms tighter around his father's chest for take-off as Sirius engaged both the flying and disillusionment mechanisms and the ground fell out underneath them as they soared into the bright blue sky. Both of them letting out whoops of joy as they rocketed towards the light smattering of clouds.
As the crisp, clean breeze of late winter rushed against Harry's smiling face, he peaked around Sirius' shoulder to watch the rolling countryside far below as they sped through the air.
Nothing was ever going to feel as exhilarating to the boy as flight did, and he was so grateful that he finally had Sirius in his life to share moments like this.
****************HP***************
Alastor Moody, retired Auror Extraordinaire, plonked down the hallowed hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry like he was on a mission.
Which, fairly enough, he was.
His horrifically scarred face wasn't unknown to the children who scurried out of his way. After all, he was their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but the Alastor Moody who was determinedly making his way to the headmaster's office was certainly not the man who lectured them every day.
That little misconception was the primary reason for Moody's presence in the castle today, and it was a deception that was about to come to an end.
The wooden leg that was a poor replacement for the one that he'd lost several years earlier clunked loudly against the stone passageway as he limped to the headmasters office. Upon arriving at the gargoyle keeping watch, he barked out the password that he'd insisted on always having and waited impatiently for the barrier to move and give him access.
"Consider this me giving my notice."
Sitting at his desk, already aware of the imminent arrival of his current visitor, Dumbledore sighed wearily at Alastor's choice of greeting.
"Good morning, Alastor," the old wizard said cordially. "As always, it is pleasure to see you."
"Stow it, Albus," the scarred man grumped as he fell into one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. "You can save your pretty words for someone willing to listen."
With a groan, Moody, caring nothing for polite manners or proper behavior in a social setting, twisted his wooden prosthetic until it popped off and then rubbed his aching stump. He'd just had a very difficult few days and he planned on spending the next three or four soaking in a warm tub.
"Alastor," Dumbledore began, choosing his words wisely so as to not set off the hair trigger temper of his old friend, "I can't begin to stress the importance of maintaining the illusion of your presence here in the castle."
"Codswallop," Moody grunted as he summoned a bottle of Ogden's finest from a hidden cabinet that Albus didn't let the students see and conjured a glass for himself. "We both know that I only agreed to your barking mad plan in the first place because I owed it to Blackie and to Potter's boy. Now that they're not even here anymore, you can tell that scalawag Fletcher that he can go slink back to his hole in Knockturn Alley where he belongs."
"Mundungus has done a surprisingly good job during his time here," Dumbledore pointed out, feeling a need to defend the morally challenged thief. "Should he have ever considered an alternate career to the profession he did choose, he might have made an excellent professor."
Taking a long pull from his glass, Moody snorted in disbelief before he swallowed and let out a sigh of contentment as the steam billowed pleasantly from his ears.
"Well that's all well and good, Albus. But if he stays here, he'll be doing it from now on without using my face. I'll sleep better at night for it, I can tell you that much for nothing."
Because Moody hated nothing more than time-consuming small talk, he quickly chugged back another shot and then gritted his teeth before affixing his detested wooden appendage back onto his horribly disfigured half-leg.
"I told you when this all started that I'd do this to repay some of my debt to Sirius," Moody reminded the old headmaster as he stood to take his leave. "My hands will never be washed clean of the part I played in damning that poor boy to a fate worse than death. If he needs me, then you can send me an owl. Otherwise, I'll continue our little outside project so I can make good with Potter's boy. Merlin knows that I've wronged him too."
Wisely keeping silent, Dumbledore just gave the old auror a small nod and mentally began to scramble for a new replacement. They only had about four days worth of Alastor's donated hair to drop into Mundungus' flask.
"It's not all bad, Albus. I did bring you a consolation prize."
Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise and anticipation as the grizzled ex-auror reached into the interior pocket of his battered leather coat and extracted a small box that he slid across the desk.
"More curses on that old ratty shack than I've ever seen in one place before. But it was right where we thought it would be."
A look of instant longing spread across the old wizard's bearded face, causing his longtime friend to frown in worry. While temptation for such an item could be hard to resist indeed, Moody had mistakenly assumed that if anyone could do it, it was Dumbledore.
That the man hadn't immediately taken steps to destroy the sinister object was more than a bit troubling.
"It wouldn't be real, Albus," he said in a warning voice, heavily laced with genuine concern. "Don't let yourself make the same mistake so many others have."
With that, he turned and left the office as fast as his mutilated body could carry him. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and there were more pieces to collect before James' son would be safe.
*****************HP***************
Harry needed two more warming charms cast on him before their flight was over, but he enjoyed the whole trip just the same.
The majestic beauty of the peaks and lakes of the region where they lived had rapidly given way to towns and cities, with Sirius eventually descending low enough to give Harry his first aerial view of London. The boy had sat in rapt fascination as they flew over all the easily recognizable landmarks, with his father even pointing out the building where his bachelor flat still remained, promising Harry that they'd spend some time there in the future looking through Sirius' old things.
Soon after, they were speeding towards the unmistakable countryside leading to the white cliffs of Dover where Harry was given a firm command to grip Sirius even tighter as they shot out over the rollicking gray water of the English Channel. With the sea spray kicking up but unable to reach them, Harry excitedly watched for the approaching coastline of France in the distance with wonder in his eyes, even as the strong winds buffeted them around a bit more than he was used to.
Sirius hadn't been joking when he said that the bike was a much different ride than a broomstick, but it was loads of fun and Harry couldn't wait until he was allowed to try it out for himself.
It wasn't long, however, before they were once again soaring over the green patchwork quilt of the fertile grounds of northern France and eventually Sirius began a descent towards a narrow ribbon of road cut into a small forest where they touched back down and rolled to a stop.
On the one hand, Harry was sad to be back on the ground after such an exhilarating ride, but on the other, he actually really was a bit cold now and more than excited to see all the wonders of Paris.
"Off you go."
Following his father's direction, Harry carefully dismounted from the bike, his legs feeling a little wobbly from pressing against the constant vibration of the bike's engine for the past few hours, as he yawned and stretched. Sirius climbed off beside him and reached out to vigorously rub some warmth into Harry's slightly shivering arms with a wide grin on his face.
"Alright?"
"That was amazing," Harry nodded, his face a chilly pink but beaming like a megawatt sunshine. "I can't wait to do it again!"
Pleased, Sirius hooked an arm around his son's neck and gave the boy a quick squeeze before releasing him.
"One of many flights we'll take together," he promised his son. "But now it's time to put her away. We'll apparate from here."
Sirius barked out a laugh as Harry's face scrunched up into a frown because apparition would never be the boy's favorite way to travel, but he'd already explained during the trip that trying to drive the bike through the streets of Paris while they were playing tourist would be inconvenient, especially since the bike was far larger than the usual models and would garner some unwanted attention when they were trying to keep a low profile.
With a few flicks of his wand, Sirius re-enlarged their packs and then cast a feather-light charm on the Triumph and shrunk the bike to toy-sized before placing it into a small leather pouch he could slip into his coat pocket.
"I love her," he explained to his questioning son, "but she tends to leak oil just a bit when small. Ruined two jackets before I just gave up and accepted it."
Harry laughed and then reluctantly took his father's outstretched hand, grimacing as he prepared himself for the brief but uncomfortable squeezing of apparition travel.
They arrived a split second later in a very elaborate drawing room decorated in various shades of yellows and greens and filled with black lacquered wood furniture with gold leaf detail. It was a style very similar to the stately furnishings of their own home and strangely made Harry think about his aunt Petunia's overly insistent attempts to decorate Privet Drive.
It wasn't until after he began to reside in the palatial splendor at Celestial Court that the boy realized that Petunia had appallingly bad taste, and she'd never be able to pull off the understated elegance that sometimes could only come from real wealth, no matter how desperately she tried. To him, the Dursley home would always be as tacky as it was inhospitable.
"Where are we?"
Harry saw a wistful smile playing about on Sirius' face as he looked around the room, and it took a minute for him to recognize his father's boyhood face in a few of the photos scattered about.
"This was my Grandmother Melania's home. I spent a lot of holidays here, especially once I started at school."
This little tidbit of information was a surprise, because Sirius had never really talked much about his grandparents before except to mention that both grandfathers had been Blacks and held the traditional amount of disdain for anyone not of pure-blood status. His grandmothers, he'd never spoken about at all, and knowing how much Sirius disliked his family in general, Harry had never asked.
"She lived here? In Paris?"
As far as Harry knew, all the Blacks were very much English in their preferences. Although Sirius had told him more than once that the family was originally of French origin centuries ago, and of course he knew about Phineas Nigellus' obsession with the architecture that defined their own home, it didn't change the fact that everyone knew that the Blacks had long been social and political scions of Wizarding Britain.
"Yes," his father answered after a fashion. "Once my father and Aunt Lucretia were both off to Hogwarts, Grandmother wasted no time in moving out of the family home. She never loved Grandfather Arcturus, didn't even really like him, to be honest. But like all well-bred young ladies of her station, she did her duty and gave him two children as was expected of her, and after that she was free to go and live her own life. Like much of pure-blood society did."
Harry's eyebrows shot up into his forehead, because he'd only ever heard about his own parents and grandparents and it had always seemed to him that they had close, loving marriages.
"Marriages between pure-blood families is a sort of currency to the more traditional set," Sirius went on to explain with distaste in his tone. "Alliances are made and maintained through them, making sure that bloodlines are carefully preserved. Genuine affection is rarely considered and it's not unusual for the school-aged children of pure-blood families to split their holidays between the different homes of their parents and grandparents. Regulus and I spent a lot of time here in Paris with Grandmother Melania."
"Did you like visiting her?"
By the fond look on his father's face, Sirius didn't seem to be showing his usual amount of revulsion when talking about the Black family, which confused Harry since he knew how much Sirius detested them all.
In fact, right now his Papa looked decidedly pleased to be where they were at the moment.
"I loved my grandmother very much," he said, the warmth in his voice surprising his son. "She was a truly kind woman, which often boggles the mind as to how she could have raised a monster like Orion. Of course my dearly departed father, being the heir, would have spent much more time being influenced by Grandfather Arcturus than he was with Grandmother Melania, although I know he loved his mother deeply."
Harry nodded, wondering the same thing himself. He'd heard about Orion Black's nasty temper more than once and even sadly glimpsed the remains of his handiwork on the rare occasion when he saw his Papa without a shirt on during their training sessions.
Seeing the questioning look in his son's eyes, Sirius beckoned Harry over to sit with him on one of the silk covered sofa.
"The goal of marriages like theirs is simply to produce more pure-blood children," Sirius began as his son settled down next to him. "Once that happens, the husband and wife rarely spend time together afterwards unless it's a real love match which is almost never. Honestly I never understood why my own parents continued to share a home because I know they couldn't stand each other. For a long time I suspected that my mother compelled him somehow."
"That sounds awful," Harry remarked with scowl. "And lonely."
Pleasantly surprised by his son's sage observance, Sirius gave the boy a bittersweet smile as he affectionately ruffled the perpetually messy hair.
"I think so too, but for many pure-bloods it was the way it had always been. It was also just another way that I disappointed my parents," Sirius said with a shrug. "After my sorting, they were even more furious when I refused to pay court to Cereus Greengrass, since we'd been chosen for each other at birth. I'm still pretty sure that it was only Grandmother's interference that kept my father from actually killing me for my defiance. "
Harry's mouth dropped open from this little revelation, but his father didn't even seem to be all that bothered over admitting something so horrible. Getting up from the sofa, Sirius walked over to a breakfront and opened the bottom drawer to root around for a moment before withdrawing a photo album and bringing it back over.
"Grandmother was a traditional pure-blood and she believed in family duty, which is why she agreed to her own marriage," Sirius explained, opening the book to the first page and showing his son the wedding photo of Arcturus and Melania. "but that didn't mean she was a fanatic like most of the rest of my relatives. I told her that I couldn't marry someone, let alone allow her to be the mother of my children, when I didn't even like her. Fortunately for me, Grandmother understood, and I believe that she would have financially supported me after I graduated if she hadn't already passed away."
Flipping a few pages, Harry now saw a much younger version of the bride in her school robes, and although the photos themselves were black and white, the paper they were mounted on was a dainty hand-drawn design of black and yellow with a tiny but detailed badger at the bottom left corner of the page.
"Your grandmother was a Hufflepuff?" the boy asked incredulously. It had never occurred to him that a Black or even anyone marrying a Black would be anything but a Slytherin with the exception of Sirius himself.
"Yes," Sirius nodded with a twinkle in his silver eyes. "Grandmother Melania was born a Macmillian. Most of them are Hufflepuffs. There's even one in your year at Hogwarts. Ernie?"
"You're related that git?" Harry's face scrunched up into a frown, his mind reeling back to the relentless mean-spirited teasing of the Potter Stinks! badges that had been so prominently displayed on the chests of the majority of Hufflepuff House. Ernie Macmillian in particular.
Sirius nodded and rubbed a comforting hand up and down his son's back, remembering the same himself.
"I told you before, most pure-blood families are related in one way or another. It's how it has to be when the candidate pool is kept so small."
"Makes me glad to be a half-blood," Harry remarked disgustedly, temporarily forgetting the blood status of both of his fathers. A quick glance up at Sirius' face showed that the man wasn't insulted by what he just said, but Harry felt a pang of guilt just the same.
"Makes me glad you are too," Sirius admitted, giving his son another squeeze. "You're a far better person for it."
After looking through the album for another moment or two, Sirius carefully put it away and then rallied himself to give Harry a quick tour of the very nice five bedroom apartment, pointing out the boyhood room that Sirius had used which he said would now be reserved for Harry. Surprisingly, it was decorated in neutral tones of cream and light blue instead of the default silver and green that Harry had grown to expect from the Black family and there was not a serpent decoration in sight.
"Grandmother wasn't the least bit focused on school houses, especially after she began to live here on her own" Sirius told his son as he led him back out to the sitting room. "It was loyalty that she was concerned with, above all else, especially between siblings who often suffered the most from their parents' unhappy marriages."
Here Sirius got quiet for a moment as his gaze drifted towards a photo on the wall of himself and his little brother as children. Regulus was clinging to Sirius, like he usually did when a bout of shyness overtook him, and Sirius' thin ten-year-old arm was wrapped protectively around his even smaller sibling. Feeling a crushing bout of recrimination, he knew he'd never forgive himself for not remembering his grandmother's wisdom after he turned on Reggie for the crime of becoming a Slytherin.
Maybe if he'd taken her words to heart, he might still have his baby brother.
"Papa?"
Turning, Sirius saw Harry staring up at him worriedly so he leaned down and planted a kiss on his son's head as forced himself to put the things he couldn't change behind him.
"Just thinking about the past," he told his son, a melancholy half-smile on his face.
Harry nodded, understanding that it was a sore subject for his often troubled father, so he glanced over to the large bank of windows that were filled with an up-close and personal view of the famous Eiffel Tower.
"The charms on these windows are really fantastic," he said, admiring the beauty. "Will you teach us how to do this someday?
"That's not a charm, kiddo," Sirius grinned, shaking his head slightly in amusement. "We're directly on the Champs de Mars. The Blacks are very fond of their prime real estate."
He laughed when his son looked suitably impressed, even as he remembered all the leisurely afternoon strolls in the park he had taken with his grandmother. Those had been some of the happiest days of his life.
"Shall we make la tour Eiffel our first stop?"
Harry nodded enthusiastically and Sirius grabbed their packs, handing one to his son while he shouldered his own. With a wave of his hand towards the front door, he beckoned for the boy to take the lead.
"On y va!"
*******************HP*****************
Harry was looking intently at a shelf filled with tin boxes of chocolates in the shape of the Eiffel Tower when Sirius found him after having just spent an obscenely long amount of time queuing to purchase bottles of water for them both. While the two of them had enjoyed their vigorous climb up the stairs to the second floor of the tower before taking the lift the rest of the way to the very top to take photos, both of them were feeling a bit parched.
Somehow Harry seemed to sense his father standing behind him, which pleased Sirius because he'd drilled awareness of his own surroundings into his child, as the boy didn't even bother turning around before he spoke.
"Do you think Hermione might like one of these?"
"Mmm...maybe," Sirius answered reluctantly. "They're certainly jolly looking, but the quality of the chocolates in those kinds of touristy things is usually fairly dodgy. You might be better off getting her a miniature statue or something similar here and then buying a better assortment of treats at a real chocolatier later."
"Yeah," Harry agreed with a sigh, putting the one in his hand back with the others. "You're probably right. I'm just not great at picking out gifts."
Smiling, Sirius wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders and gave the boy a quick squeeze.
"It's very nice of you to want to bring back souvenirs for them," he assured Harry, proud of his son's thoughtfulness and generosity. "I'm sure your friends will love anything you pick out, but this is only our first stop, remember."
"Okay," the boy nodded as he reached for the water his father was holding out to him. "I'll wait a bit before buying anything then."
Pushing their way through the mob of excited shoppers, the two of them exited the gift shop and moved towards the stairwell of the second floor to make the climb back down. Harry drank thirstily from the bottle as his father put a protective hand on his shoulder to keep him close amid the large gathering crowd of tourists all clamoring to make their way to the narrow exit.
"If I remember correctly, there's a branch of La Maison du Chocolat relatively close on the way to L'Arc de Triomphe," Sirius suggested helpfully as they began their descent. "I wouldn't mind topping off my own stash if you want to stop in there."
Nodding enthusiastically, Harry thought about the wad of francs stuffed in his wallet that his father had handed him before they left home that morning. He'd called Harry into his office after the boy had gotten dressed and showed him the hidden safe and given him the combination. Used to only seeing Gringott's as the place where wizards kept their material wealth, Harry had been shocked to see large stacks of various different currencies filling the interior.
"Just in case," Sirius had said cryptically. "I may no longer be an Auror, but some habits you never break. If there is ever an emergency, and I'm not with you, you may take what you need from here."
Harry had nodded dutifully, not really wanting to think of an occasion where something that drastic would be necessary, and Sirius had pressed a large number of colorful notes into his hand to be used on whatever he pleased during their day in Paris.
It still felt weird to not only be allowed to travel, but to be well funded in case something special caught his eye.
A far different existence than he'd had less than a year ago, when even the simple act of asking his stingy aunt for a measley pound to buy a bottle of pop got him a twenty minute lecture on finances and ingratitude. Especially when Dudley's pockets were always jingling with coins.
The two of them strolled easily among crowds of others making their way to cross the Pont de l'Alma, where Harry admired the handful of Paris' Bateaux Mouches sailing underneath them and Sirius pointed out the replica of the Flame of Liberty that hadn't been there the last time he was in Paris with James for the stag weekend before Harry's parents were married.
Sirius kept up a running commentary on all the PG-rated hijinks the Marauders had gotten up to during their trip as he and Harry wended their way up Avenue George V. Dodging gawking tourists and irate Parisians rushing about their day, they detoured first to the promised La Maison du Chocolat which took all of a second for Harry to be thoroughly convinced that it was far superior to Honeydukes in every possible way and smelled absolutely incredible.
Harry was literally a kid in a candy store, but quickly he realized that his father was far worse as Sirius cheerfully pointed to just about every expensive collection and colorful assortment there was. His son couldn't help gawking at the the casual way Sirius extracted a small, black card from his leather Muggle wallet that made the clerks behind the counters all suddenly rush to wait on him.
"You have a Muggle credit card?" Harry asked in whisper, having only seen his father and other wizards use gold or very rarely Muggle paper currency.
"Of course," Sirius chuckled quietly as the cash register slowly started climbing up to an amount that Harry suspected was on par with the national debt. "Gringotts provides many services to its most valued customers. You'll have one too when you are of age."
Harry pondered that thought as the stacks of confection boxes began to pile up on every flat surface. Apparently, when it came to quality chocolate, his father had an impulse control problem.
By the time they walked out, both Harry and his father were laden down like pack mules with all the bags they were carrying. Sirius quickly led Harry around a less busy corner where he slipped his pack from his shoulder and then began to discretely fill it with all their purchases. Although Harry knew he should be used to this kind of thing by now, he still stood in rapt fascination with the way bag after bag disappeared into the pack's seemingly bottomless depth.
"Hermione's parents better not see all that," he snarked cheekily, making his father raise an amused eyebrow.
"Well, if you don't want any...," Sirius teased with a chuckle.
"I didn't say that!" Harry yelped, lowering his voice when the people around them began to stare. "I just meant..."
Sirius just laughed harder and tousled his son's hair before hefting his pack back on his shoulder as they took off in the direction of Paris' most famous intersection. In an excessively jolly mood, Harry loped by his father's side and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the bustling city around them. Carefree and relaxed and in no real hurry to do anything specific.
They ambled their way up the Champs-Élysées to the Arc, taking occasional photos and dodging the hectic traffic. Sirius pulled Harry into the Hermès store, remembering Andromeda's fondness for their scarves and thinking it might be a nice hostess gift, where he dropped another absolute fortune on several of their classic styles for her, Jean and Hermione.
"Apparently, lots of Muggle women love them for some reason," he shook his head in wonder at his equally confused son. "Personally, I think they're ghastly."
Harry concurred with that assessment, none of the loud patterns particularly pretty in his opinion, although he did manage to eventually choose one for Hermione in a similar blue to her Yule Ball gown, so he was fairly confident that there was a small chance she might actually like it.
"They look like some of Professor Dumbledore's robes," Harry said with a squint, as they made their departure.
Sirius couldn't disagree with his son, as he'd often seen the headmaster in some truly putrid styles over the years.
Munching on a shared bag of chocolate that Harry pestered him for, the smell from the chocolate store having ramped up his appetite for sweets, Sirius slowly led his son up the busy commercial streets and through equally quiet residential neighborhoods towards Montmartre, the unique Parisian architecture of that arrondissement surrounding them with its classical beauty.
They stopped at the occasional souvenir stall for small trinkets that amused them and listened to the constant buzz of friendly chatter from the braver souls willing to endure the bite of the brisk breeze to sit at one of the many trendy cafe tables outside for a coffee and a cigarette.
It was a pleasant way to spend the early afternoon.
Finally, after a fairly long trek with Sirius pointing out some of his favorite places to visit as a boy, Harry stopped across the street from an odd looking building with an enormous red windmill perched on top.
"Papa, what's that? It seems a bit out of place here."
Sirius glanced over in the direction that Harry indicated and a brief flash of happy memories from his visits to Le Moulin Rouge with his friends flickered in his eyes before he caught a glimpse of a fairly risqué poster just peeking out from between two parked cars and he immediately looked down at the curious and still very young face of his son.
"Nothing you need to see for a few more years," he said firmly, taking Harry by the shoulders and steering the protesting boy, who had also just seen the poster, away from temptation.
"But that could be educational too," Harry argued, futilely trying to pull away from his father and using Sirius' own words against him about the nature of today's visit to the City of Lights as he craned his neck for another look.
"Mm-hmm," the amused father snorted. "Nice try, kiddo. Keep moving."
He gave Harry's bum a swat to propel the boy towards the slightly inclined street that would take them to their next destination and thought about how different he was from the impetuous and randy young man he'd been the last time he visited Paris.
It was amazing how quickly your attitude about the more adult topics could change once you had a kid of your own.
******************HP*****************
"Un café, s'il vous plaît et un chocolat chaud pour mon fils."
The pretty blonde server smiled a bit more appreciatively at Sirius than was entirely professional as she took his drink order which made Harry roll his eyes once she'd walked off toward the kitchen. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a woman show an obvious attraction for his father and he grudgingly assumed that it wouldn't be the last either.
"You know it's weird, right?" the boy hissed uncomfortably as he perused the menu that thankfully was also translated into English. "There should be some kind of rule that when you're a parent you don't get to flirt in public with strangers anymore."
"And exactly how was I flirting with her?" Sirius chuckled with genuine amusement. "I was only asking for coffee and cocoa. Not her hand in marriage."
Harry huffed and scowled a bit.
"I know," the boy admitted grudgingly, "but it was the way you asked for them."
"The...the way I asked for them?" his father sputtered, his silver eyes sparkling with mischief. "You mean like in French? The language of the country we are in currently?"
Now Sirius really was laughing and only feeling a touch of guilt when his son started to blush furiously behind his menu. Harry scowled even more, his father's merriment obviously teasing the boy who didn't really appreciate it.
"Just forget it."
"Alright, alright," Sirius placated, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll stop whatever it is you think I was doing. You can order the food for us when she comes back. It will be good practice for you anyway."
"I've had exactly two French lessons," his son reminded him testily. "If telling her what my name is or counting to ten is somehow helpful, then I'm your man. Otherwise we may starve to death by the time she figures out what I'm trying to say."
"My goodness. Someone is hungry and cranky," Sirius remarked gently as he read his own menu. Harry had obviously crashed hard after his earlier sugar high. "You realize that I would be very surprised if the young lady didn't speak perfect English, right? I think we really should have stopped in for a bite before exploring Sacré-Cœur."
It would have hurt his fourteen-year-old pride to admit that his father was right, so Harry just shrugged. In truth, his stomach had been rumbling for over an hour and in retrospect it probably hadn't been the best idea to put off lunch. The chocolates, while delicious, had hardly been filling after such a long walk.
"Yeah, but we only have the one day here," the boy reasoned in an attempt to justify his earlier push to take the tour first. "I want to see as much as possible before everything closes and we have to go home."
"We only have one day here this time," Sirius said, reaching out to give Harry's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "But nothing says we can't come back as often as you like. You don't need to rush to see everything all at once, kiddo. In fact, we could even spend the whole Easter holiday here if you wanted to."
"Really?"
Harry perked up considerably at the idea. It hadn't even occurred to him that there could be a return trip since he was already feeling lucky to just have been given this one, but of course, now that he was thinking about it, it should have. After all, they apparently owned a very grand apartment right in the heart of the city and his father did make a point to show Harry the bedroom that would be his to use, even though they weren't spending the night on this trip.
"Really. Paris and all its delights should be savored, not rushed," Sirius smiled, happy memories floating in his head. "It's nice to see the touristy things, of course, but there is so much more to the city that I want to show you."
"That would be great, Papa," Harry nodded sincerely. "Thanks."
As their drinks arrived, the boy was smiling goofily across the tiny table. It was such a pleasure for Sirius to see how easy it was to make his son happy. Harry appreciated every little kind gesture so much and it honestly made Sirius feel incredibly guilty about the way he and James had always taken their privileged lives for granted.
While Sirius' own parents were cruel to their eldest son in many ways, he'd always had the benefit of being the Black heir before he ran away, which meant that he'd never been denied any material pleasure. It would have been unseemly for Orion's firstborn son to live without fine clothes and full pockets, even if he was at odds with his parents.
One of the long vaunted traditions of sitting in a Parisian cafe was the unhurried chance to relax and just people-watch, and that's what Sirius and Harry spent their time doing as they waited for delivery of their ham, mushroom and gruyere crepes. But after a few minutes, the doting father couldn't help noticing how his son's eyes kept drifting towards the table next to them as three very pretty girls, students a few years older than Harry, sat down and filled the air with their giggling chatter.
"Très belle."
Sirius' words had been said quietly, just loud enough for his son's ears, as Harry turned to look at him quizzically before blushing over being caught gawking.
"Do you miss the young ladies at Hogwarts?" Sirius asked worriedly. The lack of potential social interaction had been his one reservation to taking his son out of school.
"Yes and no," Harry shrugged, averting his eyes as he tapped his fingers on the table distractedly. "I mean, yeah, the possibility of girls is nice, but I kind of have a full plate at the moment. You know?"
"I'm sorry about that," Sirius apologized sincerely. He hated the weight of the burdens his child was forced to carry. "If I could do something to make that aspect of your school life easier, I would. Although," he hedged, "I do think there's a better than fifty-fifty chance that our own little school might grow in size a little more too."
"Yeah, that would be alright," Harry nodded, the idea a pleasant one, "but if it doesn't, then that's okay too. To be honest. I just want to get through the tournament first, and maybe then I'll think about trying to ask another girl out."
It was about as good an answer as Sirius was going to get, but he still fretted over the limitations that Harry's unusual schooling placed on the boy.
"I know things between you and Miss Chang didn't work out." Sirius didn't want to dredge up old news but it was an important topic he felt warranted further discussion considering that Harry was just beginning to be interested in girls. "Was there anyone else you had your eye on?"
Harry hesitated a moment, forehead wrinkled in thought, before he shook his head.
"Not really. Maybe a few possibilities, but not one that I fancied more over another. Besides, Ron and Hermione just started getting along again. I think that's all the relationship drama we can handle in one house at the moment."
Sirius huffed out a laugh, agreeing with his son's assessment on the subject, and they were saved from any further discussion on the topic by the arrival of their meal.
After insisting that Harry order, the boy had awkwardly stumbled his way through a quick and poorly pronounced request for the house special which happily turned out looking and smelling absolutely delicious. Sirius barely had the time to swallow more than three bites before his hungry son was already scraping his own plate clean and he felt another pang of guilt for not seeing to Harry's nutritional needs earlier.
"Do you want another?"
Blushing slightly from being caught inhaling his food in a very good impersonation of Dudley, complete with appalling table manners, Harry peeked up at his father and was relieved to see the man smiling at him. A little concerned maybe, but clearly not cross or with his appetite ruined by the indelicate little display.
"May I?"
"Of course. You don't ever need to ask that. You may always order as much to eat as you want."
Sirius shifted in his seat and caught the attention of their server, using a warm smile and a quick, simple hand gesture to order two more of the same. Silently deciding that Harry could have them both if he wanted, or they could share the extra, but either way Sirius' son wasn't leaving the cafe until he was well and truly fed.
While Harry sipped at his cocoa and cast occasional shy glances at the next table, Sirius gazed out the window and had a flashback memory of drinking wine and laughing with James at this very cafe years ago. Because James had been fond of Grandmother Melania as well, they'd spent a lot of time in Paris together during school holidays in their sixth and seventh years. Whatever time of the year they were in town, they'd always taken a table outside at the cafes, especially after James had taken up smoking as an act of rebellion against his overprotective mother who didn't approve of the indulgence.
Clad in fashionable Muggle clothes that drew appreciative looks from the young ladies but were far too impractical to ward off the chill of a wintry afternoon, the two young men would lounge casually, showing off and pretending they weren't freezing to death as some sort of foolhardy rite of passage for their coming of age. Caring far more about appearances than about comfort.
But that was a long time ago.
Before James and Lily's wedding. Before their devastating untimely deaths.
Before Azkaban and before fatherhood.
Now Sirius was older and he had a child to think about, and with the memories of Harry's cold after the Task still too vivid and his own nightmares about freezing in the North Sea still too debilitating, Sirius hadn't hesitated to take a table inside for the first time ever. Sitting in the warmth of the crowded room, his mind saw the ghosts of two happy young men gallivanting around these same streets, brothers in all the important definitions of the word, and he wondered if he'd ever feel that carefree again.
A light snow was just starting to fall from the gray afternoon sky and Harry's mouth pursed into a frown as he also looked through the glass to watch the Parisians and tourists scurrying about, dusted with the fat flakes that landed on the wet streets and melted quickly. It had been a cool but fine day up to that point and the boy was a little upset now to see that their future plans of walking around more possibly curtailed by the encroaching darkness.
"Will we still have time to get to the Louvre, do you think?" Harry asked, worriedly sizing up the foreboding sky.
Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, Sirius took a sip from his cup and nodded. There was no reason to miss out on something Harry had particularly asked for since they were mostly going to be indoors. For some reason, the boy had it in his head that you didn't come to Paris and not see the Mona Lisa.
"Of course," he assured his son before lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "Although, I think I might just pop us over there, if you know what I mean."
Harry nodded, not exactly pleased by the idea of apparating directly after their meal when it was more likely that he'd have trouble keeping his stomach from turning, but not wanting to miss going to the famous museum either. In all honestly, the idea of more walking in the cold also wasn't particularly appealing when he was already more than a bit tired.
Sirius smiled fondly as he watched the boy steadily hoover through the remains of his second crepe, and he took his time picking at his own so that Harry wouldn't feel rushed to finish if he wanted the third. Which reminded him...
"Oh! I forgot to tell you that Andromeda and Ted invited us over for dinner Tuesday night."
Across the table, Harry stopped chewing so fast you would have thought Voldemort himself had just entered the cafe. Sirius watched with growing confusion as his son awkwardly swallowed the mouthful he had and pursed his lips before taking a sip of his cocoa.
"I don't have to go, do I? It's just that Tuesdays are really hard days, what with the Muggle classes that I'm rusty with. I don't want to miss the study time."
Harry's less than enthusiastic response made Sirius frown because it wasn't the first time his son had hinted at a lack of interest in meeting his cousin. The first time Sirius had floated the idea of Andromeda becoming Harry's new godmother, the boy had gone uncharacteristically quiet for a moment before completely changing the subject altogether.
Because the suggestion had come out of the blue, Sirius might not have given his son's reaction a second thought if it had been an isolated incident, but as time went on it was becoming steadily more clear as the date for the adoption ritual approached that Harry wasn't necessarily thrilled over the idea of Sirius' cousin playing a larger part in his life going forward.
It wasn't as if Harry had said anything specifically against Andromeda.
Not exactly.
And why should he considering that they'd never met and Sirius had said nothing but positive things about the only member of the Black family that he actually loved?
So Sirius just put it down to a knee-jerk reaction to replacing the godmother that James and Lily had picked out for him as some sort of loyalty to the original choice of his parents and assumed that Harry would come around once he'd met Sirius' favorite cousin and grew to like her just as much as Sirius always had. After all, Marlene had been gone for a very long time and Harry had absolutely no memory of her to cling to, and he also hadn't said anything against Remus taking over as his godfather, so Sirius really didn't know why tapping Andromeda for the job now would be such a sticking point.
Then one conversation became two, and two became four, and Harry still wasn't any closer to interest in meeting Andromeda than he had been the first time Sirius brought the subject up.
Truthfully, he'd been hoping to use this upcoming dinner as a chance for Harry to finally get to know the Tonkses better. He really wanted his son to see that not everyone who was born with the name Black was necessarily evil.
"Because of Ted's and Dora's work schedules, it's the only evening that would suit all three of them for the next couple of weeks," he told his son gently. "I think it's for the best that you meet them before the adoption ceremony so you're not all strangers to each other. And you'll love Andromeda and Ted. I promise."
"But I have that quiz in Charms to prepare for," Harry reminded his father. Unnecessarily, because Sirius was well aware of his son's academic obligations. "You've always said that my studies have to come before any social life."
Clearly Harry was digging his heels in, and his reluctance towards something so simple was way out of character for a boy who would do just about anything, including watching paint dry, to avoid doing homework. Quite frankly, the boy's obstinance was wholly inexplicable and beginning to test Sirius' good humor.
"As pleased as I am to see this conscientious enthusiasm for your scholastic pursuits, I hardly think a couple of hours away from home for a meal will be the difference between pass and fail for you," Sirius mildly scolded. "But if you're that worried about the quiz, I will use my headmaster's discretion to have Remus allow you a bit of extra study time before you take it."
"Oh yeah," Harry snapped, his forehead wrinkled in agitation. "That wouldn't be favoritism at all if I got extra study time that the others didn't. Are you trying to make them hate me?"
The idea was so ridiculous that Sirius couldn't help it when his mouth dropped open over the wildly disproportionate response to his suggestion.
"Harry...no one is going to hate you," he tried to assure his riled up child. "What on Earth would make you think..."
"Forget it," Harry grumbled, spinning his empty cocoa cup around on the saucer until it tilted sideways and fell to the table with a sharp clank. "Doesn't matter."
"Apparently, it does," Sirius countered, now more than a bit miffed and unwilling to let the subject drop like that. "Is there a reason you don't want to meet my cousins or are you just being argumentative on purpose?"
Averting his eyes to push a few stray mushrooms around on his plate, Harry shook his head.
"No," he answered, lowering his voice and looking decidedly uncomfortable. "We just have a busy schedule, is all, and I don't want to fall behind just because of some dinner and I don't want special privileges either."
"Special...? Sirius ran a hand down his face and silently counted to ten before he lost his temper.
Fulminare was Harry's school. What was the point of doing all of this in the first place if Sirius couldn't make decisions that he felt were in his son's best interests?
"Alright, then everyone can have more time to take the quiz. Honestly, little one, this doesn't have to be so complicated."
Harry's face went red with fury as he slammed back into his chair so hard the people at the neighboring tables began to stare.
"Is that how this is going to work?" the boy snapped, his lip curled into a sneer. "The hell with all the school rules you're always quoting at me, just as soon as it's something that you think is more important than my grades?"
"Now just a minute, young man," Sirius warned darkly, his voice deadly serious as his patience rapidly came to an end. "I suggest you either tell me that you have a very good reason for being so incredibly rude and cross or you apologize for your words and your tone before I take you home and put you straight to bed, since clearly you are in need of a nap if you think speaking to me like that is ever going to be acceptable."
The boy's nostrils flared in agitation at the threat, but he did wisely clamp his mouth shut as he took several deep calming breaths, finally realizing that he'd pushed just a bit too far. Sirius watched as his son visibly deflated in his chair.
"I'm sorry, Papa," Harry quietly said after a moment, his head hanging and his cheeks tinged bright pink as he tried hard to avoid the stares they were getting from the other patrons. "Please. Can we stay and finish our trip?"
As angry as he was, Sirius relented on the snap decision he'd made to take his son directly home. He knew that whatever this little outburst was, it was obviously just the tip of some undiscovered iceberg of teen angst that wasn't likely to be resolved today. Selfishly, he'd also been having such a lovely time with his son and he wasn't ready for it to come to an end either, so he was more than willing to table the discussion until they returned home.
There would be plenty of time tomorrow to get to the bottom of whatever it was that had his son dead set against dinner with the Tonkses.
To Harry's great relief, his father nodded, throwing him a small smile that didn't quite reach the stormy gray eyes even as Sirius pushed the plate with the extra crepe in Harry's direction.
"There's one more, if you're still hungry."
Sirius' concern and kindness made the guilt that was pooled in Harry's stomach churn like a rolling ocean and it was all he could do to avoid breaking down in tears like the child that his father was accusing him of being. The last thing he could do right now was eat another bite when he was already choking on the bile in his throat.
"No thank you," Harry muttered softly, unable to make eye contact with his father as he fidgeted with his cloth napkin. "Can we just go now, please?"
"If you like."
Sirius signaled for the check and then dropped a generous handful of notes on the table before motioning for Harry to head outside.
They walked side by side for just a few hundred yards before Sirius found a good apparition point and instead of taking his son by the hand, he pulled Harry into his arms and held the boy close. He knew that he'd correctly guessed that Harry needed a bit of extra affection at the moment when a sharp exhale of relief huffed against his neck as his son clung to Sirius' shirt like he never wanted to let go.
Sirius cupped the back of Harry's head and closed his eyes, frustrated that there were still occasions when the boy just wouldn't talk with him, but like any relationship, theirs was still a work in progress.
With a gentle rub to his son's back, Sirius gripped the boy tight and then turned on the spot.
***************HP*******************
By the time they'd apparated onto the lawn of Celestial Court several hours later, Harry was looking a little green around the gills but thankfully he was back to being the happy boy he'd started the day as.
During the official tour they'd taken upon their arrival at the Louvre, Harry apologized three more times before his father finally convinced him that he really was forgiven for his little fit of temper. There was simply no easy way for Harry to explain to Sirius about the overwhelming disdain he harbored in his heart against Andromeda Tonks, although he knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret forever, especially with this Merlin-forsaken dinner arranged.
As a surprise, Sirius had not only shown Harry the regular exhibits at The Louvre, but after viewing the Mona Lisa her bewitched eyes had then directed them to an invisible barrier in the corner of the Salle des États that led right into the magical wing. Much like they did at Platform 9 3/4, the two wizards easily melted into the wall with the Muggles being none the wiser.
It was an understatement to say that Harry had been floored with delight over the discovery that many of the Louvre's most famous portraits were really magical in origin and had subjects that actually spoke with the wizarding guests of the museum. With the ones on display in the Muggle section really just copies that were accepted as the originals just because of how old they were.
He'd obviously been used to the talking portraits at Hogwarts, but he'd never even thought about the possibility that his old school wasn't the only place that housed such incredible works of art.
They'd spent hours of wandering the corridors and seeing the hidden side of the museum until you couldn't pry the smile off of the boy's face. It was fair to say that Sirius was pleased by how quickly his son's mood had turned around after their late lunch, and when they finally sat down for a very late dinner, Sirius carefully avoided another conversational minefield and stuck solely to anecdotes of him and James and occasionally remarking about the Muggle classes the kids were taking and plans for the next Thursday outings.
They'd eaten steak-frites and Sirius had even allowed Harry a small glass of wine, just enjoying the company of his son for far more hours than he should have. It was only after Sirius realized that they'd long missed Harry's usual curfew that they reluctantly took their leave of the beautiful city. Ready to finally head back, Sirius wrapped his arms around his tired son and shielded the boy through two separate apparition hops to cover the further than normal distance between Paris and their home and they quickly arrived, happy but exhausted, close to midnight.
"It's far past your bedtime, kiddo," Sirius said quietly, not wanting his voice echoing around the house and waking the others, as he shooed a dragging Harry towards the stairs. "Go wash up and I'll be right there to say good-night."
Practically dead on his feet, Harry wasn't about to argue and he climbed the stairs at a much more slower pace than usual. His overworked legs felt rubbery as he made the plodding ascent to the second floor family wing and his shoulder was aching from hefting his bag on it all day. Entering his bedroom, he carelessly let his coat and bag fall to the floor in a heap, missing the chair he was aiming for by a mile, and for a few seconds he idly considered just climbing into his bed fully clothed but he knew he'd probably get scolded if he did.
Shuffling his way into the bathroom, he used the toilet, ran his toothbrush a couple of times across his teeth without really caring if he was actually cleaning anything, and then left a trail of clothing behind as he climbed into his bed in just his t-shirt and pants. His pajamas were in a drawer in his cupboard all the way over on the other side of the room and the sleepy boy decided that if his father insisted on him wearing them to bed tonight, the man could just spell them on for all Harry cared at the moment.
Sirius wasn't going to insist.
He arrived in his son's room just in time to watch the boy gracelessly flop into his bed and he smirked in amusement, well and truly gratified over how thoroughly he'd tired his child out. It had been one of his main goals for today's trip after all, thinking that maybe if Harry was completely knackered after a day of fun, the night terrors might just give him the evening off.
"All set?"
In response, Harry mumbled something in the affirmative from the pillow he was already starting to drool on.
Maybe Sirius had tired him out a bit too much.
Sirius smiled at his boy fondly, and with a wave of his hand he extinguished the lamps around the room and leaned over to tuck his child under the covers, using his fingers to card through the fringe that was stubbornly falling into the boy's eyes again. As usual, Harry needed a haircut, and Sirius grimaced, knowing he just didn't have it in him to do battle with his son over another detested trip to the barber in time for Tuesday's dinner.
Andromeda would just have to deal with Harry looking a little shaggy.
"Did you have fun today?"
Although Harry's eyes were closed tight, he still smiled as he leaned into his father's touch and nodded.
"One of the best days ever," he slurred as he burrowed further into his pillow. "Love you, Papa."
As it always did when he heard those words from Harry, Sirius' heart burst with an immeasurable joy.
For the love of this very special boy, he'd endure Azkaban a million times over, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to ensure that the son of his heart was happy, healthy, loved and safe.
"I love you too," he whispered as he bent over to kiss Harry's scarred forehead, the child already sleeping. "There will be many more good days, little one. I promise."
It was a promise he was determined to keep.
******************HP************