Harry Potter and TGTL: Fourth Year

by KappaIota

Sequel to Harry Potter and the Godfather that Lived. AU Fourth Year with Harry facing the Tri-Wizard Tournament, his first crush, Voldemort's return and an overprotective guardian. As with the original, will include teen discipline themes/adult language

37. Chapter 37

A/N The next TWO chapters are just a whole bunch of angst. It was originally one looooonnng chapter that I decided to break up into two because it was a lot to read at once.

If you like father-son conflict and drama, and guilt complex ridden and self-sacrificing Harry, these are for you.

If you don't and just want the fluff, feel free to skip them. There will be very little in it that impacts the story arc in a profound way.

This is something that I always felt that book Harry needed to get off his chest a lot earlier than he did. So I've written a scene in keeping with my story line that addresses some of the wrongs done against him and Sirius, but I really don't want the flames if you're only here for the cuddles.

Personally, I've always felt that the books gloss over a lot of the emotional damage that both Harry and Sirius suffered, because that kind of topic is too heavy for a lot of the younger readers to process. But I think it's fair to say that the two of them, if they were real people, would have harbored a ton of resentment for the people in their lives that let them down so badly and I wanted that aspect to be addressed.

It's easy to write a story where everything goes perfectly and there's nothing but love and hugs and happiness, but c'mon people, that's just not realistic.

IMHO, Book Harry didn't start to show his emotional scars until Sirius died, and once he did it was like a bomb went off. But with Sirius in his life, my Harry is going to start to process all the what ifs a lot earlier, and he's not going to forgive easily. Not necessarily for his own pain, because he isn't like that, but he sure is going to carry a grudge against the ones that hurt his new father.

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

The young boy perching next to the bubbling cauldron was trying very hard to not appear as nervous as he felt on the inside. He bit his lip as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his school trousers, ignoring the voice inside his head that sounded very much like his Gran scolding him for doing so. She'd always drilled it into him that not only did it stretch out the fabric, but it was very impolite.

Gran's list of rules for proper behavior was a mile long.

But he couldn't help himself at the moment. His professor was currently studiously examining the cauldron's contents, an unreadable look on his face as he tested for color, clarity and potency.

At least he wasn't screaming or insulting, which was a big improvement over his last Potions Professor.

"A tad too much peppermint, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Black said at last. "You'd run the risk of putting the drinker into a deep sleep, instead of just calming them. Which can be dangerous if not corrected quickly. But a solid effort, nevertheless. You receive an E for today for how much your technique has already improved."

He smiled at Neville and gave the relieved boy a pat on the shoulder before moving over to Hermione's cauldron and repeated the exam.

"Blimey, it's nice to brew a potion without the greasy bat breathing down our necks," Ron muttered quietly to Harry as they stood waiting for their own work to be graded. "I can actually concentrate when I'm not worried about getting hexed by Malfoy and his goons behind my back."

Harry nodded enthusiastically and gave his friend a goofy grin, inordinately proud of the skilled and patient way his father had for teaching a class. He'd really enjoyed today's lesson which, for Potions, was an entirely new experience for him.

"Excellent, Miss Granger. Please go over to the cabinet and grab a few vials. Your draught is certainly of good enough quality for us to keep it for actual use in our storeroom. O for the day."

The boys playfully rolled their eyes at each other, but they gave Hermione a genuine little round of applause as she sailed by them, positively beaming, while she went to collect her vials. They teased her something awful, as was their right as her friends, but both of them freely admitted that she worked hard for the grades she received.

Sirius made his way over to their table next, his silver eyes dancing merrily even as he maintained a serious professor's demeanor in his assessment. He hummed thoughtfully as he ran the tests over Ron's cauldron, making the redhead just the tiniest bit nervous that he might have mucked up a little more than he'd originally thought.

"Mr. Weasley, how careful were you when dicing up your crocodile heart? Did you make sure they were all nice, even sized pieces?"

"Um...no, sir?"

Ron blushed, knowing that he'd really just rushed his preparation in his eagerness to start brewing before Harry did. They'd been egging each other on a little bit at the start of class, which wasn't an unusual occurrence for the best mates who could be fairly competitive when they wanted to.

"No," Sirius agreed, sending the boy a wink to show that he wasn't truly cross with him.

Harry bit back a snarky little smirk of I told you so because he knew it would only get him a telling off from his father while Ron fidgeted next to him.

"But you can see now why you really need to."

Sirius used his wand to cause a little wave of potion to rise up from the cauldron high enough for all the children to see.

"Unless the ingredients for a potion like this are standard in size, the brewing is off and you don't really reach the correct shade of blue that tells you that it's successful. It's a common mistake, Mr. Weasley. One I've made myself. So right now I'll give you give you an A for effort and allow you to brew it again one evening this week during study time if you want to get your grade up. Fair enough?"

Ron's cheeks burned red as he nodded at the mild scolding, accepting that it was deserved. He'd known what he should have done in the first place, but since he'd always been ridiculed in Potions class before, his technique had never really mattered. Now that it did, he found himself wanting to do better.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Professor."

"Alright," Sirius smiled, giving Ron a little nod of encouragement. "Good lad."

When he moved over to Harry's cauldron, Sirius couldn't help noticing the way his son stiffened, the emerald eyes peering up at him nervously. He'd watched Harry's careful brewing, so he already knew that the boy had done a good job, but inwardly he swore at how insecure the years under Snape's tutelage had made his son.

For the fourth time, he conducted the testing of a cauldron's contents and then grinned at his skittish child when, as he suspected, they all confirmed that it was a perfect brew of Calming Draught.

"Very well done, Mr. Potter. Yours too is of storing quality. Grab some vials from the cabinet and you also receive an O for today."

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as Sirius winked at him. He'd been extremely cautious in his work, wanting very much to please his father who had spent a lot of time tutoring him, first over the summer and then in the evenings at Hogwarts, filling in the gaps of his Potions knowledge in an attempt to make up for the years of stressful instruction.

Green eyes blinking widely, he stood at his cauldron for a few extra seconds until Ron nudged him good-naturedly and brought him out of his daze.

"Good job, mate."

Harry smiled his thanks and then dashed across the recently refurbished potions lab to the cupboards mounted on the wall and grabbed six new vials. Knowing that their class was just about finished, he hurriedly filled the vials and proudly presented them to his smiling professor. The clock in the corner chimed noon and the three other students gathered their books and streamed out to head to the dining room for lunch, leaving Harry behind.

"Your granddad would have been very proud of you today, little one," Sirius said, tousling the boy's ebony hair. "As am I."

Harry blushed to the tips of his ears as he basked in the praise.

"Really?"

"Really. Of course I'm proud of you every day, but Dad would have been very pleased to see your brewing skills coming along so nicely."

"Thanks," the boy said shyly as he packed away his equipment. "I, uh. I really kind of enjoy it now, to be honest."

"Is that so?"

Sirius grinned at his son, a mischievous look on his face at Harry's practically whispered admission. He wasn't surprised in the least. If there hadn't been a war going on, James might very well have followed in his forefathers' footsteps and become a Potions Master himself, and Lily had always had a dab hand with brewing as well.

Quite simply, Harry had it in his blood.

Harry was blushing a deep pink by this point, so Sirius didn't have it in his heart to tease his son, especially since the boy's confidence in his brewing skills was still in its infancy. Instead he wrapped an affectionate arm around Harry's shoulders and led him out of the lab where he soon heard the unmistakable rumble of a growing boy's tummy.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!"

Harry groaned dramatically as he rubbed his belly, the gnawing he felt inside as achy as if his stomach was trying to eat itself. Frowning, Sirius unconsciously tightened his grip around his son's shoulders protectively, as if he could physically shield the boy from some kind of phantom food deprivation.

"Didn't you snack this morning? Bicky put out the fruit and cheese you like, right?"

Glancing up at Sirius, Harry could see him frowning deeply and looking like he might just go off in search of their faithful house-elf and give her a good what for.

Harry knew that his father had been very clear with the elves that the students, Harry especially, were to have regular access throughout the day to healthy treats during the fifteen minute break between each class. Tea, juice and an assortment of nibbles were laid out in the music room down the hall from their classroom to keep the kids from getting hungry between the big meals during the day.

Immediately Harry felt bad about worrying his father.

It wasn't a secret that Sirius could get a little too obsessed over Harry's food intake and privately the boy wondered if it was a remnant, not only of Harry's deprived childhood, but of Sirius' own years of starvation in Azkaban.

"It's fine, Papa," Harry rushed to assure his fretful parent as they walked down the staircase together. "Everyone else was eating the chocolates we brought back from Paris for them, so I had a few too. I wasn't feeling hungry after that until just a while ago."

"No more sweets for a while, young man," Sirius scolded, giving Harry's bum a light swat. "You need real food, not junk. I think we both overdid it a little, to be honest."

Harry grinned and nodded agreeably before pushing ahead once they arrived at the dining room and making a beeline for the luncheon buffet that Dobby and the other elves had spread out for everyone. Quickly he filled a plate with an enormous helping of steak and kidney pie as well as ladling a large bowl of chicken stew for himself.

When his father cleared his throat and gave him a pointed look, Harry's face scrunched up into a scowl but he obediently scooped a serving of steamed veg onto the plate as well.

Sirius looked at his son's plate approvingly and then nodded his consent when Harry tilted his head in the direction of the end of the table where his friends were sitting. Usually Sirius preferred that Harry sit at his side when everyone was present at mealtimes, but lately they'd started splitting the table at lunchtime with kids together at one end and the adults at the other.

Taking his seat at the head after filling his own plate, Sirius greeted Remus who was already tucking into his meal.

"They're all yours now, Moony. Everything sorted for your next lesson?"

Nodding, Remus took a sip of tea and wiped his mouth. He'd just spent the past hour placing targets in one of the upstairs rooms that they'd cordoned off for practical defensive spell use. Unlike the Potions lab, which Celestial Court as the home of several dark wizards of the Black family already had installed, there had been no dedicated training room to practice hexes and jinxes.

When one of Sirius' relatives had wanted to cast a dark spell, they would just target whatever or whoever was handy. No special facility had ever been required.

"Yes. I think I have plenty of practice materials for teaching the Reductor Curse. Although don't be surprised if we have to repair the windows a time or two before it's done."

"Wouldn't be the first time, and certainly won't be the last," Sirius said with a smirk, scooping a large forkful of the savory pie into his mouth as he remembered all the mischief he and his friends had gotten up to in their youth. There were many broken windows, doors, vases and even bones in the Marauders' past.

Remus chuckled and the two of them ate in companionable silence for a couple of minutes before he balled up his napkin and set it aside his empty plate.

"So what was that message about extra study time for the Charms quiz on Wednesday?"

Next to him, Sirius heaved an especially deep sigh as he thought about the absurdity of Harry's comments in the cafe yesterday. Really, he knew that his son's whinging about extra study time had absolutely nothing to do with his academics and everything to do with this inexplicable resistance to dinner at the Tonks house.

"Harry doesn't want to meet Andromeda and Ted tomorrow," he said at last, his forehead pinched in worry. "He also won't give me a good reason why. Just some ludicrous story about how he needs to study for a quiz we both know perfectly well that he's going to ace."

Remus nodded in agreement, his mouth pursed into a frown of thought. It was true that Harry was in fine shape as far as the current subject was concerned. There was absolutely no reason for him to be worried about his performance.

"Is that still going on? That's not like Harry. Has he said anything directly against Andromeda or Ted?"

"No."

Sirius shook his head and ran a hand down his face before casting a troubled look towards the end of the table where the four kids were laughing over some joke that Ron had just told. He just wished he could understand why his son was being so difficult about meeting his family.

"But I'm planning on taking him out for a walk later after classes are done so we can discuss it in more detail. I want whatever is going on with him settled before tomorrow night."

"Harry can be a lot like James, in keeping his worries bottled up inside," Remus reminded his old friend quietly. "You might have your hands full getting an answer."

Sirius nodded ever-so-slightly in agreement, his face pinched. A lot of James' brash, carefree attitude had been a mask for things that troubled him and his son had the same bad habit of suppressing his emotions. Only whereas James was loud about his avoidance, making everything a joke, Harry just went quiet.

Finished with their lunch, the kids were getting up from the table, probably to head outside for some fresh air before the next class started, and Sirius noticed that his son's face was sporting the forced half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. A sure sign that his kid was internally brooding.

"You probably have time for a quick fly," Sirius called across the table to his son as cheerfully as he could, raising Remus' eyebrows next to him. "As long as you bundle up."

"Can we really?"

Harry was stunned by his father's offer, and he and Ron looked at each other like Christmas had just come early. As a general rule they were banned from their brooms until the school day was over, but nothing put Harry in a good mood as much as time in the air and Sirius wanted him as relaxed as possible before their talk.

"Just don't be late for your next class," Sirius nodded, "or you won't be allowed again. Understood?"

Both of the fly-happy boys were quick to give a respectful 'yes, sir' before they were charging towards the coat cupboard near the rear doors with all the elegance of a herd of rampaging hippogriffs.

"Well that policy didn't last long," Remus remarked with a smirk, keeping his eyes on the copy of the Prophet he stole from Sirius.

"Don't start. Parents have to pick their battles."

Sirius let out a deep sigh and picked his fork back up to force down a bit more of the excellent lunch he no longer had an appetite for. He couldn't very well scold his son for not eating properly when he himself was often guilty of the same.

After that the rest of the school day passed normally for the four students.

Harry and Ron came crashing into the training room at the very last possible second, windblown but exceptionally happy, just like Sirius was hoping his son would be. During the next hour the students cheerfully blew the place apart with their Reductos in their DADA class, but everything was easily fixable and since Remus was more concerned about the skill than the mess, he was pleased with the results.

Unsurprisingly, Harry picked up the curse incredibly fast. The boy just had a talent for defense that was a clear reminder of James Potter's own innate skill.

He was, however, struggling a bit with their Arithmancy class, as was Neville. Whereas Ron had taken to the new subject with ease, the number theory coming naturally to him. His quick progress had Sirius and Remus already talking about the possibility of moving him into Hermione's class after a few more weeks of playing catch up.

Once she'd heard the news, Molly practically burst with pride over the academic prowess of her youngest son who, she reluctantly admitted, had given her more than a few sleepless nights over his less than stellar grades.

Also, for the first time since they started at Hogwarts, the kids were actually interested in what they were learning in their History of Magic class. Long gone were the bone-dry lectures on the Goblin Rebellions that their ghostly instructor just couldn't seem to lay off and instead they had spent the last hour of their school day in an engaging exploration of the events that took place during the International Warlock Convention of 1289.

A topic not usually covered until their O.W.L. year since it was long accepted that the fourth year of Hogwarts H.O.M. study was basically rubbish.

So Harry was in a fairly good mood when Sirius met the students coming out of their last class for the day, already dressed in a warm coat and carrying one for Harry along with a paper sack.

"Are we going somewhere?"

Sirius couldn't blame his son for looking up at him in confusion since he was usually in his office working on lesson plans at this time of the day and being generally available to answer any questions that Harry or the others might have about their classes. The children had ninety minutes of dedicated study time to work on their homework between their last class and dinner and both Sirius and Remus had made a point to be present and approachable each day.

"It's a fine afternoon outside," Sirius replied, a soft smile on his face as he took his son's books and exchanged them for the coat. "I thought you and I could take a walk down to the pond and feed the fish for a bit."

Harry seemed to deflate right where he stood, but he carefully schooled his features so that his friends couldn't see how much he disliked the idea of spending time alone with his father at the moment. None of them knew anything about the current tension between Sirius and Harry over Andromeda's dinner invitation and they'd wonder why their friend, who obviously adored his Papa, would be reluctant to go for a walk with him.

Instead the boy reluctantly nodded as he shrugged himself into his coat and then obediently followed Sirius to the back door of the manor that would take them to the path that led to the pond, looking like a fairly good imitation of a condemned man on his way to execution.

Harry had to admit that his father was right.

It was a nice, clear and crisp afternoon, although the late winter sun would soon be getting ready to set. Not that it would really matter when the pathways around the entire estate were magically lit to keep the grounds from descending into the darkness of an early evening. It was cool but not particularly cold and the two of them walked in an easy silence for a few minutes before Sirius finally broke the quiet with casual conversation.

"How was your flight today?"

"Brilliant," Harry gushed, now grinning like a maniac. "I could spend all day in the air and never get tired of it."

Sirius hummed, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the boy and saw another one just like him who had always felt the same way.

"James once asked Professor McGonagall if he could hover outside the window of the Transfiguration classroom for lessons on his broom. Said it was good practice if she wanted to win the House Cup that year. I swear I could almost see her thinking about it before she scolded him."

Harry let out a little snort because he could picture the stern professor doing exactly just that. It was, after all, due to her interference that he'd been put on the team so early.

"He hated being cooped up inside," Sirius continued quietly, his memories threatening to take a dark turn. "We all did."

At his side, Harry stiffened a little, which wasn't exactly helping the mood that Sirius was trying to set with this particular outing. Sometimes it was still hard to control his emotions, but he needed to for the sake of their shared son.

"Personally," he continued, forcing his lips to smile, "I think he was just trying to do whatever it took to impress your Mum. She talked a good game about James being arrogant and too obsessed with Quidditch, but we all saw her eyeing him when he was in the air. She liked the look of him, no matter how much she tried to deny it."

Harry scrunched up his nose, not sure if he wanted to hear things like that about his parents, but there was a little grin peeking out too which made Sirius bark out a laugh as they made their way past their own pitch.

"I hear that Arthur took Ron to a match yesterday."

This was a much safer subject as Harry immediately launched into a detailed re-telling of the play-by-play Ron had shared with him earlier. As they walked, the two of them talked teams and strategies which succeeded in putting the boy in a much better mood.

There was a little more ease in Harry's stride as they strolled along and they chatted about nothing else in particular and he almost forgot that this was a walk with a purpose until they reached the bench perched at the end of the goldfish pond. Sirius indicated for Harry to take a seat and then he cast a quick warming charm on them both as he joined his son. Opening the paper sack he carried, he offered it first to Harry and the two of them spent a couple of quiet moments tossing chunks of bread from the kitchen into the water to the waiting fish.

But Harry knew that the relaxed peace between them was too good to last and it wasn't long before Sirius broke the silence.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Sirius' voice was quiet and painstakingly non-confrontational, but his eyes were determinedly looking at his son in what Harry could see was a mixture of concern and confusion. Harry couldn't blame the man. He knew exactly what Sirius was talking about, and Merlin knew that Harry wasn't making this easy for him.

"I know."

Heaving out a deep sigh after his admission, the boy reached into the paper sack and withdrew a large handful of the bread chunks that he began to toss into the water one by one in an effort to have something to focus on besides his father's gaze.

"Then why won't you tell me what has you so opposed to meeting my cousin and her family? Because your behavior recently isn't like you at all, and you know how much it means to me."

There was a real note of hurt in Sirius' voice that his son could tell he was trying hard to mask but couldn't manage completely. Harry inwardly winced because he hated to be the cause of any sadness befalling his father, but he also knew that if he was actually honest with Sirius it would only make a difficult situation even worse.

The last thing Harry was going to do was tell his father how hurt and upset he was becoming with the people who were supposed to be close to Sirius but had failed him so badly. All it would do was make a bad situation even worse.

"I just don't want to go," he peevishly answered, throwing in an impertinent little huff to try and really sell it. "I don't know these people and it's going to be boring and awkward, and I'd rather just stay here and work on my homework. You can go if you want to. Just leave me out of it.."

Sirius frowned at the belligerent tone in his son's voice, but he was more bewildered than angry. He'd never known Harry to just dismiss anyone out of hand for no reason and honestly he really expected more acceptance from the boy since he'd been very clear with his son on how close Sirius and Andromeda had been as children.

"But that's the point, little one. You'll never get to know them if you don't meet them in the first place. Wouldn't you say that was true?"

He reached out to place a warm palm on the back of Harry's neck and gave his son an affectionate squeeze. Experience had shown him that Harry could often be shy in certain social settings and sometimes the boy needed to be treated carefully, like a skittish colt who could bolt at any minute if startled. What was needed right now was patience and understanding, tempered with a gentle touch if Harry was to be brought round.

"I know that there's something you're not telling me," Sirius said gently. "You've had no prior encounters with the Tonkses, so what is it? Is it because Andromeda was born a Black and I've made you dislike all my family? Because I assure you that she was one of the few good ones, like your own grandmother."

Harry sighed deeply, finding the bread bag very interesting at the moment as he struggled to come up with a good excuse. He'd known ever since he started living with Sirius and learning a bit more about his family that his paternal grandmother was a member of the Black family from one of the cadet lines of the house. By all accounts she was a kind woman and Harry had no objection to the name itself.

Just to the ones who had hurt his Papa.

"There's nothing to tell," he said finally. "I just don't feel like going."

"How about we make a deal," Sirius bargained, a hopeful spark in his silver eyes that pained his son to see. "We'll go and have a nice quick dinner, just so you can meet them in person, but I'll be very clear with Andromeda that it's a school night and we can't stay too long. She'll understand. I'll also do most of the talking so you don't feel too much pressure. One hour tops. Okay?"

Harry twisted in his seat and threw an especially aggressive handful of chunks at the water, as if he were attempting to hit something with them. His father had no idea just how hard it was for Harry to be uncooperative about this when all he wanted to do was make Sirius happy. A year ago Harry would have agreed immediately, too scared of upsetting Sirius to care about his own feelings.

But one of the aspects of their closer relationship now meant that Harry wasn't afraid of Sirius' anger, or the possibility of getting chucked for being an ungrateful child like Uncle Vernon called him so many times. Now Harry just genuinely didn't want to hurt the father he loved so much with a refusal.

Agreeing to the dinner meant that Harry was going to have to sit at a table with the person who had betrayed Sirius the most and not be able to say anything, when what he really wanted was to scream at the top of his lungs at Andromeda Tonks and tell her in great detail just what a horrible person she was for abandoning her cousin to more than a decade of torture.

Harry truly wanted her to have a full understanding of just how much her careless inaction cost other people while she was living her best life in her grand manor with her Healer husband and a perfect daughter that Harry had no interest in meeting. Happy and free while Sirius was tortured and in agony and Harry was starved and ignored.

He wanted nothing to do with her, but for some reason Sirius really seemed to want to reconnect with this horrid, selfish person.

And Harry was at least grown up enough to understand that him shouting accusations at his father's cousin would only cause more pain and distress to the person he cared about most in the world. He absolutely hated quarreling with his father, and if making Sirius happy meant keeping his head down and his mouth shut for an hour, then Harry was just going to have to shove all his resentment and hostility deep down inside and go to this damn dinner.

"Okay," the boy huffed, reluctantly giving in. "If I really have to."

Sirius obviously couldn't miss the grudging resignation in his son's voice, but he was happy to get the win where he could. Wrapping his arms around his child, he pulled Harry close and gave him a big hug, a breath of relief whooshing out of his chest.

"Thank you, Son," Sirius whispered into Harry's hair as he held him in a warm embrace. "You've made me really happy."

The words caused an icy pang of guilt in Harry's stomach that threatened to make him sick up as he returned the hug, holding on to Sirius extra tightly as if his love alone could make up for all the injustices that had been heaped upon his kind father. Harry's head was starting to ache monstrously from the rage he was bottling up, spinning like a cyclone inside his mind, the pain only partly soothed by leaning his forehead against the cool cloth of Sirius' shoulder.

Feeling the boy cling tightly to him, Sirius renewed his efforts to hold Harry even closer. Only when the two of them were alone would his brash, headstrong child let his guard down enough to accept the physical affection that he'd been denied most of his young life.

Sirius didn't mind.

As far as he was concerned, there would never be enough time to make up for all the hugs that he'd should have been able to lavish on Harry during those twelve horrible years apart.

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

Most of the people who claimed to know Severus Snape would say that he cared little about anyone or anything outside his lab.

But what none of them really understand was just how hard he worked to give them that opinion, since he'd learned a long time ago that showing his true feelings on any subject only led to heartache and pain.

He'd become quite good at masking his emotions long before he graduated from the hallowed halls of Hogwarts and gone directly into the service of the Dark Lord. A troubled childhood and a lonely adolescence had been the perfect recipe to lure the socially awkward misfit right into the darkness that was ultimately responsible for the loss of the only person he had ever really loved.

A need for a place to belong had eventually seen him choosing to take the Dark Mark, but it hadn't improved his lot in life the way he'd hoped it would. Weakness and fear weren't tolerated when you were a Death Eater, and allowing your inner thoughts to be analyzed and dissected by a madman left you open to torture and death if he saw something he didn't like on a particular day.

Severus' fortunate mastery of Occlumancy had saved his life on more occasions than he could count.

So it was a cold and unfeeling looking Potions Master that currently swept his way through the torch-lit corridors of the castle, even as he struggled with an exceptionally foreign surge of emotions running through his mind.

Albus Dumbledore was going to die.

If you asked Severus outright why he was so bothered by the certain death of the man that had enslaved him as surely as the Dark Lord had, he couldn't give you a coherent answer.

All he knew was that when he saw the powerful wizard's curse-marred hand, he'd felt a pain in his chest that he couldn't quite describe. It wasn't the unrelenting agony he felt every time he thought about her, but it was something more akin to what he might have felt about the deaths of his parents if they hadn't been such incredibly awful people.

Dumbledore wasn't exactly a parental figure to him, but he was the only person to have ever offered any kind of mentoring or understanding that didn't come with the risk of the Cruciatus if he failed. It wasn't exactly a high bar.

So Severus had done the best he could when he was summoned to the headmaster's office and shown the withered, blackened hand that had touched the cursed object, but in the end there was no stopping it. All he'd been able to do with the extent of his skills was get the spreading of the magical poison to slow down.

In less than a year from now, the great Albus Dumbledore would be gone, and as Severus strode back to his lab, ignoring the idiot children scurrying out of his path, he was trying to process several different thoughts.

Because there was no longer any doubt in his mind that the next period of darkness was already on its way, and without its leader the light side just might not prevail this time around.

A different plan needed to be made, and whether he liked it or not, Severus was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he'd probably be forced to make his peace with old foes becoming new allies.

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

Tuesday didn't start out well for Harry, so it was no wonder that it only went downhill.

Having slept poorly the night before, his insides tied up in knots of stress and deception, Harry was almost fifteen minutes late going down to breakfast which earned him a worried look from his father that just made him feel more guilty. He hadn't wanted to eat much of anything after that, which meant by the time he was being drilled in his French class the lack of food in his system had developed into a headache and made it even harder to concentrate on his studies.

During the first morning break, Harry was attempting to grab a bite before his next class, but instead he ended up spilling an entire glass of pumpkin juice down the front of his polo shirt when he wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and plowed directly into the regularly fairly clumsy Neville. It took the entirety of the break before he managed to siphon the juice off his shirt with his wand, so he was forced to head back into class without snacking which meant that Harry was still starving and now exceptionally grumpy.

The funk that hung like a rain cloud over him all morning followed him into Biology class where his wandering mind had him missing all three times that Professor J Granger called on him to answer a question, and his lack of attention earned him an extra assignment of four feet of parchment on the most abundant proteins in the human body.

Along with a glare from Hermione who was annoyed with his inability to focus in her mother's class.

It didn't really get better after that.

Even eating lunch didn't improve his disposition and he was cranky and short tempered with his classmates and he knew by the look on Professor H Granger's face during his less than stellar performance in their afternoon Geography class that there was little chance that his father wouldn't be informed.

Just another thing for Sirius to lecture him on, when Harry was already on a short tether.

So the boy was in an absolutely terrible mood before the detested dinner even started, and you never saw a face as sour as the one he was sporting when he finally joined his father in the front parlor where the floo connection for Celestial Court was located.

Wanting to make a good first impression, Sirius had insisted on his son dressing appropriately in the traditional wizarding style. Harry was grudgingly clad in his nicest set of robes and currently yanking irritably at the stiff collar that he truly hated wearing.

Suppressing a grimace at the crazy rat's nest on his son's head, Sirius forced himself to bite back a comment about the unruly locks that looked like a brush had never touched them. He knew that Harry was already thoroughly displeased about tonight's activities and it wasn't going to help to poke at him regarding his genetically misbehaving hair.

Because it was a given that Harry would scowl and argue that there wasn't much he could do about it, which was fair, and threats of barbers and hair potion would only make him even more disagreeable in general. Then at some point Sirius would be forced to scold him for the inevitable bad attitude the boy would develop as a result and the entire evening would come crashing to a halt before it even got started.

Somethings simply weren't worth it when you were the single parent of a short tempered teenager.

"Here, let me help you with that."

His son frowned but he reluctantly allowed himself to be tugged closer to his father where Sirius deftly fixed the boy's crooked tie. Not that Harry didn't have years of experience with his school uniform, but the ties that went with the dinner robes tended to be just a bit more fussy.

"Why do I have to wear the stupid thing anyway?"

Harry was whinging for what was the umpteenth time since Sirius instructed his son on his attire for dinner, fidgeting in his father's hold as Sirius mentally counted to ten and attempted to keep his patience while wrestling the tie into submission.

"I mean," the boy continued sharply, "it's not as if we're meeting the bloody queen or anything. It's just a sodding dinner."

Sirius heaved a deep annoyed sigh as he stared his son in the eyes and tried to decide it if was worth it to reprimand his testy teenager about the obviously intentional language. He knew he wasn't wrong in his assessment that Harry was looking for an out by picking a fight when the boy defiantly stared right back at him, as if he were daring Sirius to do something about it.

"That's one," he warned, holding up a single finger right in front of Harry's face. "Make it to three during our visit and I'm sure Andromeda's house has a nice corner you can stick your nose in until you can behave yourself better after I scourgify your mouth in front of everyone. Your choice."

The boy scowled, his green eyes spitting fire at the threat, but he wisely held his tongue since it was pretty clear that Sirius wasn't in the mood to take any cheek.

As they were about to be late, the irritated man didn't wait for a verbal confirmation from his petulant child. Andromeda had always been very particular about promptness and Sirius wanted his son to make a good first impression on his future godmother, so he let Harry's attitude go.

For now.

When Harry looked as presentable as he was going to get, Sirius gave his son an affectionate pat on the shoulder and plastered a wide smile on his face in the hopes that Harry would try to have a nice evening.

Or, at the very least, try not to be a brat.

"You're to behave yourself tonight, Harry James. I know you're not happy about this dinner, but you just might be surprised once we get there. Keep in mind, however, that if you can't say anything nice to our hosts, best to just say nothing. Understood?"

Harry bristled at the stern tone in his father's voice. It's not like he didn't have nice manners when he wanted to. The boy felt sure that, even as angry as he was, he could manage to hold his tongue for a single hour.

"Yes, sir."

"Here," Sirius said, handing his son two of the distinctive burnt orange shopping bags that were the hallmark of Hermès, "give one to Andromeda and the other to Nymphadora. I'm sure they'll be a big hit."

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance and reluctantly took the bags, more than a little miffed that he was already expected to interact with them right from the start.

So much for Sirius' assurances that he'd do all the talking.

If his father saw his displeasure, he didn't say anything, which was probably for the best when Harry already felt his tolerance level dropping with every passing second.

Sirius gave his son one more wary glance and then grabbed a handful of floo powder from the crystal bowl on the mantle and tossed it onto the fire.

"I'll go first and catch you on the other end. The address is Tonks Manor."

Stepping into the green flames, Sirius carefully enunciated the address and vanished in a puff of smoke.

For about ten full seconds Harry seriously contemplated just going back up to his room and locking himself in, but he wasn't about to do that to his father. Sirius did a lot for him, and the least the boy could do was sit down for one ruddy dinner to make the man happy. He scowled as he tossed his own handful of powder in and then stepped through, resignedly shouting the address before immediately feeling the uncomfortable spin of floo travel.

Good to his word, his father was right there, holding out a steadying hand to save him from making his usual clumsy entry into a richly furnished parlor. Sirius was now genuinely smiling, obviously already in a little bit of a better mood as he cast a quick cleaning charm on Harry's slightly sooty robes, returning them to their pristine state.

Looking around, Harry had to admit that the parlor was very nice. In keeping with what he expected from a member of the Black family, it was certainly luxurious enough, but there was also a homey warmth to it that identified it as a room in a real home and not a show place. Under other circumstances, he might have felt very comfortable there.

Standing next to his father with her arm linked through his was a woman who could only be Sirius' cousin Andromeda.

She was very pretty and it was easy to see a family resemblance between the elegant woman and his father. Although she didn't have the ebony hair of a Black, she and Sirius shared a very similar facial bone structure which seemed to be the trademark of the Black family's good looks. Standing next to her was her husband Ted. A tall and portly man with a warm smile and kind eyes that he greeted Harry with upon his arrival along with an outstretched hand.

"Well, now, look at you. All grown up. How are you, Harry?"

When Harry didn't respond the greeting, Sirius gave him a pointed look reminding him to behave, so Harry reluctantly took Ted's hand and shook it, but pulled back as quickly as possible. If Ted was insulted by Harry's rapid dismissal of his welcome, he didn't show it as the older man turned to his wife with a large grin on his face.

"He's the spitting image of James, isn't he darling?"

"He really is," Andromeda said softly, her eyes pained.

To Harry's horror, her right hand was suddenly reaching up slightly as if she wanted to touch Harry's face, but fortunately for him the woman seemed to reconsider at the last second and she lowered it back to her side as she pasted on the welcoming smile of a gracious hostess.

"Harry," Sirius said, moving over to put an arm around his son, "this is my dearest cousin Andromeda."

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Harry. Your resemblance to Cousin James is just extraordinary," Andromeda remarked, her sharp gaze giving him a full assessment. "Except for the eyes of course. You have..."

"My mother's eyes," Harry answered, a tad too sharply. "I know."

If he had a sickle for every time someone said that to him, Harry would need a second vault at Gringotts, and while he normally didn't mind the confirmation that he took after his parents' looks, there was something about hearing it from Andromeda that just rubbed him the wrong way.

Sirius cleared his throat, his meaning perfectly clear, and Harry bit back an even sharper retort as he reminded himself of the promise he'd made his father.

"These are for you," he said instead, thrusting the shopping bags in Andromeda's direction with little decorum.

"Well, one is for you," Sirius clarified, gracing Andromeda with his best smile to make up for his son's petulance. "The other is for your lovely daughter, who I can't wait to see again after all this time.

Andromeda smiled widely at her cousin as she noted the label on the bags.

"You remembered, you sweet darling. I haven't been for ages!"

"I took Harry to Paris on Sunday and showed him Grandmother's flat and a bit of the city. I couldn't go all that way without bringing back a token for you."

Sirius' natural charm was in full force at the moment, and the way his cousin fawned over him, her voice sugary sweet enough to make Harry's teeth ache, only made the boy even more agitated with each second that ticked by. How she could put on such an act to be fond of the person she couldn't be bothered to visit in prison, even just to give him a telling off if she thought he was guilty, Harry simply couldn't understand.

"Dora hasn't come home from work yet," Andromeda apologized as she led them to the formal dining room. "Siri, you know how the Auror Department can be. All work, all hours, all the time."

Only Harry saw his father's slight flinch, but in true form Sirius acted like everything was fine as he nodded and walked ahead. Behind him, Harry's eyes narrowed and he could already feel the tenuous grip on his temper start to waiver.

"Yes, I remember," Sirius answered agreeably as they took the places Andromeda indicated at the table. "Of course, given that it's peace time, I would imagine that the job is quite a bit different now than it was when I was there."

A house elf popped into the room then, causing Harry to startle for a second and he felt his father's knee nudge him under the table in concern. It could have been the perfect opportunity if he was more of a selfish child to get out of this torturous visit. Harry would bet even money that making enough of a fuss of the elf's sudden presence would persuade Sirius into agreeing to take him right home, knowing how protective his father was about Harry's skittishness after the Second Task.

But Harry wasn't a weak child that needed to be coddled and he wasn't about to pretend that he was just to get away from the Tonkses, so he nodded at his father to let the man know he was okay instead.

To be fair, Andromeda and Ted attempted to include Harry in their conversation on more than one occasion while they waited for the daughter of the house to arrive, but Harry was doing a very good impersonation of a deaf mute at the moment, and his father, attempting to keep things light and honor his promise to defray their attention away from the boy, smoothly redirected each exchange to himself.

Harry might have appeared to be in his own little world, but the truth was he was listening quite carefully and growing more and more irate with each pleasantly spoken word.

It was just bad luck that Professor H Granger currently had them studying the Roman Republic in their World History class, including the assassination of Julius Caesar, and perhaps Harry's active imagination had him feeling just a bit too empathetic with the dictator and his unfortunate death under the knives of those he thought he could trust.

Each jolly anecdote issuing forth from Andromeda's traitorous lips was like a stab in the back to the boy.

"...Siri, remember when I caught you hexing Aunt Cassiopeia's handbag to scream insults at her every time she opened it..."

Stab

"...I swear you never saw such a little gentleman as Sirius Black. Even when he was tiny he used to pull my chair out for me at dinner..."

Stab

"...That's why you were always my favorite cousin, Siri. Nobody stood up to Grandfather Pollux like you did..."

Stab

"...Honestly, you and James were basically one person, the way you would finish each other's sentences..."

Stab stab stab stab stab

Harry hadn't realized how angry he was getting until all the flames in the lamps around the room suddenly roared two feet taller before blowing out completely. Sirius, more skilled in wandless magic than the others, quickly had everything re-lit, and while the Tonkses were chuckling awkwardly he threw his son a concerned look that only made Harry more annoyed.

But before he could question his son, the floo roared to life in the next room and the cheery voice of a young woman rang out.

"I'm home!"

The person that Harry assumed was the daughter of the house came barreling in, practically tripping over her own feet in the bulky black combat boots she was wearing. Her auror robes open enough to show off tight jeans and a bubblegum pink T-shirt that matched her crazy hair.

If Harry wasn't already irritated by the stuffy formal robes he was forced into, he definitely was now.

"Wotcher, Dad!"

The young witch leaned over and gave her grinning father a big kiss on the cheek while her mother clucked her tongue in obvious disapproval.

"Nymphadora! What are you wearing? I told you we were having guests!"

Nymphadora, and what a horrible name that was, rolled her eyes as she ambled over to the empty chair at the table and plopped down into it, smirking at Sirius and Harry.

"Aw, Mum. Cousin Sirius doesn't mind, does he? At least I'm not covered in mud like I was the last time he saw me."

"That's true," Sirius chuckled, coming to her rescue. "Little Dora was always quite fond of mucking about in that little stream behind the house. I remember her tiny footprints tracking everywhere."

The entire table, minus Harry, shared a good laugh together over what apparently was the Tonks daughter's penchant for mischief while the boy was digging his fingernails into his thighs to keep from hurtling a piece of the fine china in front of him against a wall.

It was all just too jovial. Too cheerful to be around. These people who had known Sirius well enough to share a bunch of laughs with him now after turning their backs on him when he really needed them.

His ears started to buzz with something akin to white noise and he could feel his skin getting warm. It was taking all of his focus to not let another flash of accidental magic burst out of him. Sirius and the Tonkses were engaged in a spirited stroll down memory lane and if Harry had just been left alone, he might have even gotten himself under control well enough to get through a decidedly uncomfortable dinner.

But he'd never really had the best of luck.

"So you're the famous Harry Potter? The savior of the wizarding world."

Reflexively, Harry's eyes shot up to where Nymphadora was assessing him with a grin and a raised eyebrow. Sirius knew how much Harry hated having his notoriety shoved in his face, even if it was coming from someone with some kind of tenuous family connection, but if Harry was expecting his father to jump in and rescue him from Nymphadora's probing gaze, he was sadly mistaken.

Sirius was speaking quietly with Andromeda off to the side and either he hadn't heard Nymphadora's comment or not thought it necessary to intervene.

Harry bristled and suddenly understood what it meant when a person said they had found their line in the sand.

"I can't do this."

Shooting to his feet, so fast that it startled Sirius mid-sentence, Harry practically knocked his chair over as he began walking towards the next room.

"Harry?"

Hearing his father's worried voice call after him didn't have any effect on breaking the boy's stride. All he cared about in that moment was getting to the floo.

"Harry! What's the matter? Are you okay?"

Sirius' tone was getting more distressed, but Harry's anger and frustration had only started to surge. He could feel his magic rippling on the surface of his skin, and since he didn't want to be responsible for blowing a hole into the wall of the Tonks' very nice house, he knew he needed to get out of there as quickly as he could.

"I can't be here."

He wasn't yelling. In fact, he absently wondered how he was able to remain as calm as he was considering all he wanted to do was scream. By the time he was standing next to the fireplace and was reaching up to grab a handful of the floo powder from the bowl on the mantle, Sirius had moved fast enough to catch up with his son, their hosts hovering worriedly in the background.

"Talk to me, little one," Sirius pleaded, his forehead scrunched in concern. "Are you sick? Hurt?"

"I'm fine. I just don't want to be here with them," Harry growled, throwing a poisonous look at Andromeda and her family. "I want to go home."

His voice was loud enough to be heard across the room and now that he knew his son wasn't unwell Sirius' face flushed red with irritation over the boy's behavior. '

"Harry James Potter! You will apologize to Andromeda, Ted and Nymphadora this minute."

"No."

Harry set his jaw and looked directly into his father's storming gray eyes as he made his pronouncement, even though his hand was shaking so much that the floo powder he had in it started to slowly seep out between his fingers and fall to the floor.

"Young man, you will do as you're told," Sirius threatened darkly, reaching out to grab Harry's arm.

But Harry had quick Seeker reflexes and he pulled away before Sirius could get a hold of him and then threw the powder into the flames turning them a bright green.

"Don't worry, I'll go straight to my room and wait for you," he assured his furious father as he stepped into the flames.

"Harry James! Get back here!"

But Harry had already shouted their home address and was gone in a flash before Sirius even got the words out, leaving his stunned father and equally stunned hosts behind.

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

Harry landed on the floor of their formal parlor in an ungainly heap, streaking ash across the expensive Persian carpet even as he choked on it, and finally sliding to a halt right in front of another person he least wanted to see in their home at the moment.

"Harry?"

Remus shot up from his seat on the sofa, confusion and worry warring in his amber eyes as he extended a hand to help the boy to his feet.

"Is everything okay? You're back awfully early."

Coughing on a bit of the ash, Harry averted his eyes and pulled himself up from the floor without accepting Remus' assistance. For all he knew, Sirius was seconds behind him and he wanted to get upstairs as quickly as possible. His father would no doubt be in high temper and the last thing the boy wanted was for the entire house to hear him being soundly chastised as he surely was going to be unless he made it to the safe haven of the family wing.

"I have to go to my room," he said hurriedly, brushing past the man before Remus could ask further questions.

Pulling off his outer robe and bunching it up in his arms, with serious thought to setting the blasted thing on fire later, Harry dashed to the staircase and quickly made his way up, taking two at a time. His father would more than likely spend a couple of minutes to make a more polite departure before he came home to kill his only child, so in actuality Harry probably didn't really need to rush but that didn't stop him.

Thankful when he didn't run into any of the other occupants, as he didn't feel up for explanations at this point, he successfully made his way into the family wing without being seen, and once the heavy oak door that separated it from the main corridor was closed behind him, he shut his eyes tightly and attempted to calm down.

The suffocating feeling that had been choking him the entire time he spent in the Tonks home was beginning to ease back just a fraction and it allowed him to take a badly needed deep breath as he began to assess just how much trouble he really was in.

A lot, he finally decided as his heart fluttered in his chest.

He was in a lot of trouble.

All he had to do was keep his mouth shut for just an hour and everything would have been okay. But the casual way that Andromeda just kept bringing up the past, as if she wasn't largely responsible for all the pain and suffering that Sirius and Harry had been put through for twelve years, finally made the boy just snap.

Although it had seemed like his only choice at the time, as Harry stood, his back pressed against the door, the ramifications of just taking off like he did began to hit him. He'd never seen his father's face be such a scary mix of hurt and anger like it was when Harry stood in the fireplace to take his leave.

Clearly Sirius was going to be furious when he returned home, not that Harry could really blame him. Of course Harry was furious himself, but he couldn't very well blame his father for his own anger when Harry refused to share the reasoning behind his hatred of Andromeda no matter how many times Sirius had tried to wheedle it out of him.

Heaving out a deep sigh, Harry pushed away from the door and began to make his way down to the bedrooms before his father's return. Although he intended to go straight to his own room to await his fate, he somehow found himself standing in front of Sirius' bedroom instead.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that he was allowed access to his father's bedroom if he needed to go in. For Harry's entire life with the Dursleys, it had been made crystal clear to him that he was unwelcome in Vernon and Petunia's bedroom no matter what happened. If he was sick during the night or scared from a nightmare, Harry was always left to deal with it on his own.

He'd learned that lesson the hard way when he was five and Dudley had brought home a 24-hour stomach flu from Piers Polkiss' birthday party.

A mildly sick Dudley had been pampered and fawned over by both of his adoring parents while he lay holed up in his room moaning and whinging far more than his temporary illness had actually required. But when Harry started coming down with symptoms of his own in the middle of the night and he crept up to timidly knock on the Dursleys' bedroom door to ask Aunt Petunia for some stomach soother, he'd been shouted at until the rafters practically shook and abruptly sent back to his cupboard without help.

Eventually, after emptying his upset tummy of the bit of dinner he'd been given, the tiny boy had just curled up on the cold floor of the loo and cried himself to sleep, only to be bodily thrust back into the cupboard the next morning by an irate Vernon who locked Harry inside until he was able to 'get that disgusting business under control'.

Harry had never made that mistake again.

In sharp contrast, Sirius told Harry as soon as they moved into Celestial Court that he was allowed in the master bedroom at any time if he needed something. Having been a child who was maltreated by his own parents and left to the mercy of a spiteful house elf that detested him in times of sickness or upset, Sirius had never wanted Harry to be afraid to ask for help or comfort.

Not that Harry ever needed to go into Sirius' bedroom. He respected his father's privacy, knowing how little Sirius had of it during his unjust imprisonment, and Sirius always checked on Harry regularly in his own room anyway, so it had never been necessary to search out his guardian for help.

Now Harry suddenly found himself opening the door to the master suite and cautiously padding inside, his feet sinking into the plush carpeting that muffled any sounds in the large, richly furnished set of rooms.

There was a roaring fire crackling in the hearth of the sitting area that Harry knew the house elves kept lit at all times as Sirius didn't like the cold, casting dancing shadows on the warm gold wallpaper and drapes. The sitting room was decorated with an overstuffed sofa striped in burgundy and gold silk with matching chairs that just screamed coziness. All around the room hung portraits of beautiful landscapes, set between the ornate lit sconces.

Photos of Harry and Sirius, with a couple of Harry's Mum and Dad, the young Marauders (minus Wormtail) and even one of a boy that Harry recognized as Sirius' little brother Regulus decorated shelves and small tables and various books lay strewn about in a lived-in but organized fashion. An open box of chocolates lay on the low table in front of the sofa, along with a book of ancient spells and an empty brandy snifter.

But Harry wasn't in here to gawk.

Knowing that time was growing short, and not wanting to get caught in Sirius' room when the man was already going to be in a mood, even if it was allowed, Harry determinedly made his way into the bedroom. He didn't really consciously realize what he was after until he had already crossed the room to the wood valet stand that held the Muggle suit that Sirius had been wearing earlier in the day.

Next to the pinstripe trousers and waistcoat and silk mulberry and dark gray button down, the thin strip of supple leather hung from an ornate gold buckle decorated with runes that Harry wasn't familiar with. He reached out and grabbed it, his hands automatically rolling it up into a loop, and then he turned to make a hasty exit to his own room.

In truth Harry was a little surprised that his father hadn't made it back to Celestial Court by this point, or at least he hadn't yet come upstairs to reprimand his disobedient child. But maybe that could be because in reality only a few moments had passed since Harry's abrupt retreat from the Tonks manor instead of the agonizing eternity that the boy imagined it to be in his distress.

Moving swiftly, he disrobed, kicking his dress clothes off messily into a corner and then pulled on a T-shirt and pajama bottoms to await Sirius' arrival, all the time wavering between wanting to just get it over with and hoping that it never happened. The boy sat nervously on the edge of his bed, palms sweating, even as the little voice inside his head reminded him that while Sirius was bound to be furious, Harry didn't need to fear his father like he used to fear Vernon Dursley.

There was no doubt that Sirius was displeased over what had happened, and nothing was going to save Harry from punishment at this point, but his Papa would never hurt him.

Not really.

Harry's bum might be sore for a bit afterwards, but he'd had worse injuries on the Quidditch pitch, and it was the least he deserved for ruining an evening that his father had been looking forward to after Harry had promised to behave himself.

Besides, if Harry just kept his mouth shut, this whole unpleasant business could be over soon.

Sirius would come home and yell. Harry would apologize for disobeying his father and take his licks, and then everything would be done and dusted and they could get back to normal without worrying anymore about Andromeda Tonks and the part she played in Harry's miserable childhood.

Surely his father would realize after tonight that making her Harry's new godmother was an incredibly bad idea and Harry would just find ways to get out of meeting with her again until Sirius finally just gave up.

That was the plan, anyway.

But as the minutes ticked slowly by and Harry remained alone in his room and waiting, the boy's imagination started to shift into overdrive. Every so often his eyes would flicker down to where Sirius' belt lay next to him on the red duvet, coiled insidiously like a leather snake waiting to strike, and a shiver of uncertainty would ripple through his veins like ice water at the unknown.

To be honest, he didn't really know why he thought to grab it in the first place.

Sure, Sirius had threatened him with it a few weeks ago during their row after Hermione's hands were injured, but he'd never used it to punish Harry before. Something the boy had been grateful for at the time since he'd heard Ron's story of his own painful encounter with his father's belt after the grove incident last summer.

In fact, the closest that Harry suspected he'd ever come to getting walloped with one was the night Dobby ruined the Dursleys' dinner with Uncle Vernon's boss, Mr. Mason. Purple with rage, Vernon had threatened Harry that he'd be getting flayed within an inch of his life while the man's sausage-like fingers malevolently gripped the poor overworked strap of leather that barely kept the fat bastard's massive trousers up.

Because Vernon generally recoiled from the distasteful act of actually touching his freak nephew unless it was truly necessary, lest he be contaminated himself, Harry hadn't been flayed that night. Although considering that he'd spent the next three days locked up in his room, practically faint with hunger, he probably would have chosen the belt if given the option.

Really, how bad could it have been?

Curious now, and more than a bit on edge emotionally considering that his father still had yet to make an appearance, Harry picked the belt up and clinically studied it for a moment before doubling it over and swinging it a bit. It was lightweight and fairly supple. Not at all like the solid paddle that Harry's backside normally got smacked with when he misbehaved. Honestly, despite all the hype, he couldn't see what the big deal was.

Feeling a bit cocky now, he lifted it a few inches in the air and waved it about, hearing the soft whistle it made as it cut through the air, before finally getting up the nerve to slap it against the open palm of his other hand. It wasn't a particularly hard swing, but when the sharp smack of the impact sounded a split second before a line of fire raced across his hand, he knew he'd made a mistake.

A pained hiss pushed its way through his clenched teeth without his consent as he gazed dumbfounded at the red stripe now seared into the skin and he found himself frantically shaking out the sting as his eyes watered a little.

Ow.

Harry suddenly got it, and he was already planning on darting back to his father's suite to return the implement of torture to where it belonged when suddenly a loud rap on the door made him flinch and brought him roaring back to his senses. He had just enough time to toss the belt aside before a very angry Sirius Black strode into his room.

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

Sirius had spent five full minutes offering his astounded cousin profuse apologies for his son's atrocious behavior before Andromeda convinced him that she understood. Meeting them after all this time was obviously overwhelming for the boy and sometimes kids just lashed out.

Nymphadora hadn't been the easiest teenager to raise, after all, and the elder Black cousin made it quite clear that most parents had to deal with a rebellious streak from their children at some point.

After taking his leave as politely as he could, Sirius had chosen to walk outside the wards of the Tonks manor so he could apparate home instead of taking the floo. Arriving at the end of his own long driveway, the upset and troubled man took his time walking the distance to the chateau, intent on calming down as much as possible before making his way up the family wing to confront his son.

He'd never been so hurt or angry at Harry as he was at the current moment standing in the threshold of the boy's bedroom.

Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed, already in his pajamas despite the very early hour, which at least gave Sirius an indication that the boy knew how badly he behaved and was ready to accept punishment.

Not that it improved the current situation at all.

He waited for his child to say something, anything, in his defense. To explain his absolutely appalling behavior. But Harry just continued to sit with his mouth closed and his head down until Sirius was finally forced to breach the silence himself.

"I am struggling to understand what possessed you to act like you did this evening. Would you care to enlighten me on exactly why you felt the need to insult my cousins' hospitality by just walking out with no explanation?"

"I told you that I didn't want to go in the first place."

There was no malice in Harry's words. No anger nor vitriol. They were stated plainly. Factually. Without emotion or emphasis. The boy didn't even bother looking his father in the eyes when he spoke them.

"Well, you made that abundantly clear, that's for sure," Sirius responded, at a complete loss for understanding. "That doesn't excuse your behavior, however."

To Sirius' utter annoyance, his son merely shrugged and kept his eyes averted. The lack of justification was really starting to wear thin, especially after his earlier mortification in front of his cousin. His palm was itching to pull his son off the bed and give the little monster a good smack on the arse for his impertinence, but he managed to refrain.

"Telling me that you just didn't want to be there isn't going to cut it anymore, young man," Sirius barked instead. "I'm going to need a real reason this time, because the way you are acting just doesn't make any sense, and quite frankly I'm astounded."

"Why can't you just accept that I didn't want to go?" Harry was finally looking up at him and his face was flushed red with irritation. "Aren't I allowed to have an opinion anymore? Or is it always going to be 'just do as you're told, Harry' with no consideration about how I feel?"

Harry's answer was absolutely absurd, and Sirius was half a heartbeat away from tearing a strip off the boy, but too many memories of Orion's nasty temper and cruel words were swarming his brain at the moment, so he took a deep breath and used every ounce of reserve he had inside to keep from verbally annihilating his mouthy kid.

Because more than scolding his son, Sirius genuinely just wanted to understand him.

"Where is this attitude coming from all of a sudden?" he protested. "I've always cared about your feelings and opinions. Always. And you know that."

When it was clear that Harry wasn't going to answer, Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, the clear signs of a migraine developing, and he just felt so incredibly tired. To him, it seemed that the argument over this infernal dinner party had been going on for weeks by this point and he cursed the day he ever accepted the invitation in the first place if this is where it had brought them.

"I've given you ample opportunity to explain yourself in regard to Andromeda and her family," he reminded his silent son, "but I cannot help make things better if you refuse to tell me what your opposition to them is. Please, talk to me and help me understand."

Harry drew in a shaky breath, his eyes blinking rapidly whether from anger or hurt, Sirius couldn't tell. Harry was obviously genuinely upset over something, and all Sirius really wanted to do was take his son in his arms and hold him close. Just forgetting about the horrible evening they had entirely, because nothing was more important to him than Harry's happiness.

But ignoring a problem wasn't a long term solution, as Sirius well knew.

"Please, little one," he pleaded quietly, his worried gray eyes desperate for an answer. "I want to understand why you feel this way. Truly, I do. But I can't fix a problem when you won't tell me what it is."

Harry winced from the plaintive tone in his father's voice and he had to turn his head away so Sirius didn't see his bottom lip begin to wobble. In truth he was thisclose to just giving in and confessing. To spilling his guts and just having it all out in the open about how angry, hurt and betrayed he felt.

But he also knew that his father would immediately turn away from his cousin if he thought it would make Harry happy, when unfortunately there was an annoying part of Harry that profoundly understood loneliness and wanted Sirius to be able to have some of his family back.

Even if Harry himself wanted no part of them.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the upcoming confrontation, Harry grabbed the coiled belt behind him and thrust it towards Sirius, plastering a defiant glare on his face.

"There's nothing to fix," he growled through gritted teeth to keep from crying. "I didn't want to be there and I'm not sorry for walking out. So just punish me already and get it over with. You know you want to."

It was a grave miscalculation.

The silver in Sirius' eyes swirled and grew hard, his nostrils flaring in fury, and Harry gulped as he caught his first real glimpse of the powerful auror that had frightened dark wizards enough to make him one of their primary targets for elimination.

If the boy thought that the right response to his father's heartfelt pleas was a shirty remark about taking a walloping, he was horribly mistaken. Gone was the concern in Sirius' face in a split second. So fast in fact that Harry immediately paled from the blinding fury that he was now subjected to. Whatever reserve Sirius had been holding on to in order to avoid losing his temper had been utterly depleted by his son's brash and careless response.

"That's what you think, is it?"

Sirius' voice had gone scarily calm and it sent shivers up Harry's spine as he realized that he'd rather have his father yelling than speaking so quietly. The boy swallowed hard and forced himself to maintain his tough exterior, but inside he was shaking more than he ever did when faced with any of the life endangering events of his past.

"That I ever want to punish you? That I wouldn't rather swallow broken glass than be the cause of even one tear that you shed?"

Harry swallowed again, his Adam's apple bobbing and his throat going dry as the desert as he looked down at free hand in his lap, the one holding the belt in the air shaking a little. There was such a coldness in Sirius' voice that he seemed to be an entirely different person from the kind father that doted on Harry shamelessly.

The one that Harry was doing this all for in the first place.

"Do you really think, for one second, that it doesn't kill me inside every time I have to discipline you? That I wouldn't rather take every smack myself a hundred times over than give it to you?"

When Harry didn't respond, Sirius sucked in a deep breath, his entire body vibrating with fury.

"Put...That...Down," he hissed in a stern tone that didn't allow for any refusal as he glared at his own belt. "I've never had you over my knee for anything other than endangering yourself, and I'm certainly not about to start now. Even if you are being a little shit at the moment."

The frostiness in his father's tone was frightening as Harry slowly laid the belt back on the bed and he was forced to grab his blanket with both hands to keep Sirius from seeing how badly they were trembling.

To be fair, what Sirius said was true.

Harry could count on one hand the number of times he'd been properly smacked by his father since they started living together, and it had always followed an event where Harry had disobeyed Sirius and done something that could have seen him getting hurt or worse. He just hadn't been thinking in those terms when he retrieved the belt.

It was only the guilt of knowing how much he upset his father that had Harry willing to accept a much harsher reprimand.

As far as Sirius was concerned, the time for patience and understanding was over.

He tried, Merlin he tried, to get Harry to explain why he was acting so irrationally and the boy simply would not cooperate. Sirius was tired, stressed and humiliated. Endlessly frustrated and badly in need of a drink.

"We appear to be getting nowhere," he said calmly, his eyes cold and stormy now, "so let me make something perfectly clear. I am your father, which means that when I tell you to do something, then you do it! You are allowed to express an opinion and I will take it into consideration, but you are not allowed to act like a brat."

Harry winced as he clenched his teeth together to stop himself from saying anything truly hurtful. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but now that it was here it was so much harder to endure than he thought.

"So you are going to go sit at your desk, right now, and compose a letter of apology to Andromeda, Ted and Nymphadora," Sirius continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Then you will invite them here for dinner at their earliest convenience, where you will be on your very best behavior and show our cousins that I'm not raising you to be an arrogant little berk."

"No."

Even Harry was caught off guard by the vehemence of his one word refusal, uttered seemingly without thought or respect. Sirius physically recoiled in shock, because he couldn't believe that his son had just so blatantly defied him.

"No?" Sirius' voice was incredulous. "What do you mean No?"

Racking his shoulders back, Harry looked his father straight in the eye, projecting more anger than fear now that he was expected to be the one apologizing instead of the person who had actually betrayed Sirius.

Harry would have been more than happy to apologize to his father for his disobedience and he would have accepted the consequences of it, but there was absolutely nothing that would make him issue any sort of an apology for any reason to Andromeda Tonks.

Ever.

"No," the boy repeated forcefully. "I won't apologize. I'm not sorry I did it and I'm not apologizing for it."

Right about now Sirius was thinking that Harry should be feeling lucky that he wasn't Orion Black's son. Disrespect like that would have resulted in scars that still marred flesh long into adulthood, of which Sirius was walking proof. And even Charlus Potter, with his seemingly endless patience, would have sent his son and foster son to bed with a soaped mouth and a blistered backside for that kind of impertinence.

But while Sirius had taken his fathering cues from both of the men who raised him, insofar as to how to act or, in Orion's case, how not to act, in the end he was his own man and his brand of parenting wasn't either Orion's or Charlus', just like Harry wasn't Sirius or James.

There was no sound in the room for several seconds except for the heaving breath of the upset boy sitting on the bed. Sirius' fingers were clenching his crossed arms so tightly that he was sure to have bruises later, but it was better that than lashing out at his kid in a way that he didn't want to.

"You're grounded until you do as you're told," Sirius said eventually, once he could speak without shouting. "One way or another, you will apologize, young man. Starting tomorrow you'll spend the second half of every lunch hour in my office, either writing the apology note or writing lines until you do, as well as being restricted to your room every night by eight o'clock."

"Fine," Harry spat out.

It wasn't even close to the respectful "Yes, sir," that Sirius felt he deserved.

"Fine?" Sirius snarled, his eyes snapping in disbelief. "This is fine?"

That was when the first chink in Harry's armor showed as the boy's hardened face fell just enough for a bit of the hurt to peek out. If Sirius had been less angry, he might have picked up on the fact that there was more to his son's reaction that just petulance.

"That's not what I meant..."

Harry's shaky voice trailed off as he bowed his head so his father couldn't see the shiny glaze in his green eyes.

"Fine," Sirius repeated, talking to himself as he shook his head and ran a hand down the front of his face. "He thinks this is all fine."

Patience well and truly spent, what Sirius needed right now was to leave this room before he said or did something that he might regret later. Walking closer to his son, he held out his hand expectantly.

"I'll have that back now, if you please."

Harry glanced up just enough to see that Sirius was indicating the belt by Harry's side and the boy tentatively grabbed it and and put it into the waiting palm. Sirius put his hands on his hips and closed his eyes for a moment, the effort it was taking to maintain his composure clearly starting to wear on him. His breaths were coming sharper and faster and it was all he could do to keep from screaming as he forced himself to speak again.

"In the future, you will leave your punishments to my discretion. As you obviously didn't have your dinner, since you were too preoccupied being rude to my cousins, I'll ask the kitchen to send something up to you, but then you're to go straight to bed. Maybe some sleep will have you behaving a little more rationally in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered, the coldness of his father's voice physically paining him.

With that, Sirius turned and strode to the door, stopping just as he put his hand on the knob.

"I'm incredibly disappointed in you, Harry James."

Harry flinched like he'd been slapped, which he honestly would have preferred, as he watched Sirius walk out of the room without another word, shutting the door hard behind him.

Finally alone and overcome with emotion, Harry allowed himself to release the sob he'd been choking back.

"I'm sorry, Papa."

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