A/N Wow guys! Thank you all for the reviews and PMs. I'm thrilled that the last chapter evoked so many strong emotions from my readers. It's what every writer hopes for. I'm a little worried now that the first part had all the good stuff and this second part will not be as fulfilling! Hopefully you enjoy the rest of the angst and all the cuddles at the end.
Harry is getting better with the whole communication thing, but remember this is the kid that willingly carved into his own hand for months to avoid telling Sirius about it.
A couple of you also guessed the real reason for Harry's strong reaction. I'm so pleased! Enjoy :)
************HP**********
It was dark.
The kind of pitch-black darkness that only resulted from the complete absence of even the tiniest fragment of natural light.
Not that the light, or lack thereof, mattered to Harry. He knew, without even needing to open his eyes, exactly where he was.
Sense memory had him recognizing a distinct smell of staleness of the air that was barely allowed to circulate in the tiny enclosure, and the worn, flattened pillow under his head might just as well have not been there at all for all the support it provided his aching neck.
He was laying on his back, the thinness of the pad underneath him allowing the frame it was perched on to dig into his shoulder blades and spine. His legs, too long now for the narrowness of the space he was allowed, were scrunched up painfully against the unseen wall.
Yes. He knew this place.
Right on cue, a loud banging next to his left ear jostled the little door enough to kick up a cloud of dust motes that assaulted his nose and mouth and made him cough.
"Up! Get up! Now!"
Harry exhaled as deeply as his clogged sinuses would let him and a wave of resignation and dread washed over him, making his limbs feel ten times heavier. As bad as it was inside his little hovel, outside was even worse.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."
He reached above for the string he knew was there and, once he had grasped it in his fingers, gave it a tug. The single naked bulb came to life with a dull glow that accurately reflected Harry's mood, but it provided enough light for him to visually take in his surroundings.
Two spider webs spanned the width between a couple of the stair treads directly above his head, one of them currently in use. Some bibs and bobs discarded by others were scattered in the corners, as broken and unwanted as Harry felt himself. A single pair of rolled up, threadbare socks sat on his only shelf next to a small stack of stained shirts and trousers far too big for Harry's narrow waist.
If it weren't for a couple of new additions to the decor, it would have looked exactly the same as it did the last time he slept here. Now there was a slightly faded Gryffindor pennant tacked to a wooden slat with what looked like to be a bit of electrical tape. Along with a dusty purple program that Harry recognized as the one Hermione bought for him at the Quidditch World Cup.
Remnants of a life beyond these loveless walls.
Outside the door, he could hear the second approach of his aunt's irate footfalls a minute before she pounded on his door again.
"Up, you lazy thing! You have a breakfast to fix!"
She didn't wait for an answer this time and Harry slowly climbed out of his tiny bed and tried to suppress the smothering feeling of claustrophobia pressing in on him as he shifted as well as he could in the minuscule space. He pulled on the ratty socks and a grubby outfit of oversized clothes and shuffled out the cupboard's door to start his day.
In the kitchen, Uncle Vernon was just white blob hidden behind the morning Times. Dudley sat next to his father, larger than ever, his fat rolls now hanging over each side of his chair which creaked ominously as if it might collapse at any second. He was watching four televisions mounted on the wall, all showing different shows, and there was a large brown ring around his mouth as he licked his fingers and smacked his lips.
Looking at the table, Harry saw a dozen open and empty boxes from La Maison du Chocolat and he would have recoiled in disgust if his aunt hadn't taken that moment to prod him not-so-gently in the back with her frying pan.
"Do the bacon already! Can't you see that poor Dudders is wasting away?"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia."
For the next few minutes, Harry mindlessly fried up several pounds of streaky bacon that he stacked on a plate. When he was done and went to start on the four dozen eggs next to him, Aunt Petunia took the bacon platter and placed it all in front of her son. Dudley pounced on it like a starving lion but a second later Harry heard his uncle speak for the first time.
Or...bellow, more like.
"Boy! What's the meaning of this?"
Harry obligingly turned enough to see two strips of bacon clutched in Vernon's fat fingers that Dudley was desperately trying to grab back without luck.
"These are burned" the man growled. "Burned! If you want to waste our food, then you don't need any meals for a few days, do you, Boy?"
They weren't burned. They were exactly like all the others, but it wasn't morning unless Vernon was blaming Harry for something.
Harry's stomach already felt carved out and hollow, but he'd played this game too many times before and knew there would be no arguing, so he just turned back around and cracked the first egg against the bowl set next to him on the pristine counter.
But instead of a sunny yellow yolk, the egg only contained a folded up piece of parchment. Frowning, the boy smoothed it open and let out a strangled choke upon reading the words.
You are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry sucked in a deep breath, his pulse racing wildly, and frantically cracked the next egg.
And then the next.
And the next.
All of them containing the exact same proclamation that signaled the end of any chance he had for an escape from this house of horrors.
No no no no no no no no
Behind him, Uncle Vernon and Dudley were laughing raucously at Harry's misery. Dudley's absurd Smeltings straw boater practically slipping off his massive head in his glee. Aunt Petunia wore a smirk of triumph as she reached out and grabbed Harry by the arm and started to drag him towards the garden.
"Finally," she crowed, happier than Harry had ever seen her. "No more of this nonsense in my home. Time for you to go where you belong."
Harry desperately tried to pull away from her iron clad grasp, but the woman was surprisingly strong as she bodily hauled him outside. Her victory seemed to have given her new life and a taller stature as Harry slipped and slid across the grass, wet with morning dew, until they reached an enormous version of Hedwig's cage mounted right in the center of the garden.
The bars gleamed gold in the sunlight and there was a Harry-sized perch dangling from the top. But what was most disturbing of all was the large sign mounted to the side. Blindingly white with a single word carefully spelled out in huge, black letters.
FREAK
The door to the cage swung open as Petunia and Harry drew near and, with one final push, Petunia shoved her troublesome nephew inside and then slammed the cage door shut with an almighty bang.
Panicked, Harry lunged at the bars and shook them, helplessly watching his aunt's hasty retreat.
"No! Aunt Petunia! Please!"
But she was already inside the house and Harry was forced to watch as she, Vernon and Dudley all cheered gleefully, their crazy eyes wide and their smiles grotesque as they pointed at him and laughed.
"It's for the best, Harry."
At the sound of the familiar voice behind him, Harry whirled around and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his former headmaster, along with several of the professors from Hogwarts.
"Professor Dumbledore! My aunt locked me in here. Can you get me out, please?"
The old wizard's blue eyes were sad as he shook his head, and Harry's face fell as he realized that Dumbledore hadn't come to help after all.
"I'm sorry, my boy," Dumbledore said sympathetically. His voice so genuine that Harry almost believed him. "You really should be with your family. It's the best place for you."
"But, Professor, they hate me," Harry pleaded, his hands slipping on the bars in his distress. "They keep me locked up. They starve me! Can't I come back to school? Please, sir."
"Typical Potter," Snape sneered, his arms crossed as his black robes dragged along the ground. "So spoiled and selfish."
"I'm not," Harry protested pitifully. "I'm just hungry. And afraid. What if they don't ever let me back inside? What if they make me stay in here forever?"
"They're your family, Harry," Dumbledore smiled reassuringly, eyes twinkling madly now. "Your blood. They'd never do anything to truly hurt you. Trust me. It's safer for you to be with them."
From behind Dumbledore's shocking lime green robes, Remus strode to the front and put a comforting hand on Harry's as it grasped the bar.
"Listen to Professor Dumbledore," Remus placated, softly patting Harry's clenched fingers. "He knows what's best for you. For all of us."
Harry's empty stomach lurched now that he realized that Remus wasn't going to do anything to get him out of this cage either. The boy couldn't quite believe it. Remus was one of his father's closest friends. He should be fighting for Harry, not helping the Dursleys to keep him prisoner.
"Remus. Please," Harry begged, his voice tight with desperation. "Don't make me stay here. You know what they're like. I'll die here."
But Remus had already turned to leave and was now guiding Hermione and all the Weasley children towards the street. Ron and Hermione both turned back once to send Harry worried looks, but then they allowed themselves to be led away. A few seconds later, they all vanished with a Pop!
"Professor McGonagall? Professor Flitwick?"
Harry called to the other adults desperately, but no avail. One by one they too left the garden without a word and without any of them even trying to set Harry free from his cruel imprisonment. He frantically ran his hands across the bars to see if there was any way he could open them himself, but his wandless magic was practically non-existent, and his beloved holly and phoenix feather had been snapped and was currently littering the bottom of the rubbish bin in the Dursley's kitchen.
Finally, the only other occupants of the garden besides himself was a kindly half-giant and Dumbledore.
"Hagrid? You'll help me, won't you?"
Tears were clogging Harry's voice now, his words so soft that they could barely be heard. Hagrid just gave him a sorrowful frown, turning once to Dumbledore, maybe to see if something could be done for the poor boy in the cage, but the old wizard just shook his head and took Hagrid by the arm.
"Come along, Hagrid. Mr. Potter is in good hands. I'm sure we'll see him again someday."
The half giant sniffed, but he nodded, trustingly following his headmaster towards the street, and then they too were gone.
Bereft, Harry slid down the bars and landed in a heap on the floor of the cage. So wrung out that he couldn't even summon the energy to cry out for help from any of the neighbors. He wasn't actually allowed to talk to them anyway, and he knew from experience that any attempt to do so would only result in a longer stretch of time before he would be fed again. The tightness in his chest might have made him cry if he had any tears left to shed, but he didn't.
He just lay there, despondent and resigned. All alone in the world.
"Harry?"
The soothing tones of a much-loved voice sent a surge of hope through the desolate boy and he pulled himself to his feet just as Sirius came running into the yard. His eyes were wild with worry and his wand was out to defend against anyone trying to stop him and Harry was so happy that he would have let out a cheer if he'd been able to make his voice work.
Instead he reached his arms through the cage bars, desperately reaching for the safety of his father's embrace.
Harry wanted to go home and he wanted to go right now.
Never to see this place, ever again.
He wanted his cozy bedroom and the stuffed chair in Sirius' office where he curled up in the evenings and studied. He wanted his broom and their pitch, and the crazy house elves that made the flatware sing at dinner time for entertainment. He wanted to fly on his father's motorbike with him and watch pensieve memories of all of his parents, young and having fun.
He wanted.
But most of all he wanted his father, and now Sirius was here.
"Papa..."
Harry's watery voice, weak and tragic, barely carried sound, but it was enough to get Sirius to move faster. He ran to Harry, coming closer and closer and closer...until suddenly he stopped.
Or, more accurately, someone stopped him.
"He's not one of us, Siri."
Andromeda was there, right next to Sirius and holding him back with her elegantly manicured hand gripped tight around Sirius' wrist. She looked at Harry with disgust, so close to how Aunt Petunia looked at him that for a moment the boy could have sworn that the two women were morphing into each other right in front of his eyes.
To Harry's great distress, Sirius was now looking at him with uncertainty, obviously paying attention to Andromeda's poisonous words, but not enough to get him to turn away just yet.
"He's my son," Sirius protested, making an attempt to free himself from Andromeda's grasp.
"He's James' son," his cousin reminded him as she sneered at Harry's caged plight. "He's your burden."
A soft cry of distress choked its way out of Harry's throat as he saw Sirius contemplating that. Harry pressed himself as close to the bars as he could, his arms stretched out towards his father as far as they could go. Silently begging the man to come to him.
"Come, Siri," Andromeda insisted as she tugged Sirius back, her voice sickly sweet and dripping with manipulation. "It's time for you to go back home to your real family."
Sirius gave Harry one more look and then he nodded, turning away and offering his cousin his arm like a true gentleman.
"No," Harry sobbed as he watched Sirius walk away. "Please. Please don't leave me here alone. Please."
And then he woke.
The room was still dark when he woke up, just like it had been in the dream, but at least this time Harry knew it was real. His chest ached from heaving like he'd just run a marathon and he could feel the wetness of tears that had leaked out of his eyes trailing down his cheeks and pooling into his ears.
Caught in the lingering hazy effects of the dream, it was taking him a moment to acclimate himself, but slowly but surely things were starting to come more into focus. At least he hadn't been crazed to the point of blowing things up this time, but the dizziness in his head was real enough to temporarily incapacitate him, so he stayed still and quiet on his bed for a bit until the wave of nausea it had brought with it passed.
Once he was thinking a little more clearly, it occurred to him that he was alone.
Not that being alone in his bedroom was an unusual thing, but being alone after a bad dream was.
Honestly, Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up from a night terror or any other kind of slumbering upset and not found Sirius right by his side, ready and willing to comfort him. It was like the man had a sixth sense or something, and it had always made Harry feel just a little bit more safe knowing that his father was never far away if he needed him.
But of course Sirius wouldn't bother coming in this time. Harry had been stupid and hurtful, infuriating his father like never before, and the boy wasn't blind to the fact that the man had stormed out of his room earlier looking like he'd rather be anywhere else except in the same room with his disobedient child.
There would be no consolation from him tonight.
That was okay.
Sirius had every right to be mad, and Harry had already experienced a lifetime of taking care of himself. He'd just gotten spoiled this last year, actually having someone willing to soothe his hurts and chase away the demons. Someone to hold him close and make Harry feel loved and protected.
Sniffling, Harry threw back his duvet and sat up, rubbing his hands over his wet face. His throat was clogged with tears, so he let out a few quiet coughs and then got up to pad over to the loo. The wall sconces in his bathroom roared to life when he opened the door and shuffled to the sink. Turning the spigot for the cold water as far as it would go, he let it run as he looked up at his reflection in the mirror.
"You look awful."
Sometimes it was pretty cool to have a charmed mirror in your home that actually carried on a conversation with you, and sometimes it was just bloody annoying.
Like now.
"Sod off," Harry grunted, really in no mood to be berated by a piece of glass and making a mental note to come back in the morning with his wand and a blasting curse at the ready.
He scooped up a couple of handfuls of cold water and splashed his face, relieving the heat of his flushed skin and waking him up a bit more. He yawned, used the toilet, washed his hands and then returned to his bed, all the while ignoring the full body shakes that he was being wracked with that attested to the fact that he really wasn't okay.
Sirius always gave him chocolate to soothe his night terrors, and Harry still had plenty from their Paris stash in a bag under his bed, but that wasn't what he wanted at the moment.
Well, what he wanted was to see his father.
Harry wanted to pathetically knock on Sirius' bedroom door, surely waking him up, and ask for some comfort even though he was really too old for it. Just to prove to himself that his dream had been nothing more than the leftover mental rubbish of a stressful evening and Harry still had a father that loved him and would always care for him.
That he wasn't alone in this world anymore.
He looked across the room to his door and spent exactly two seconds contemplating doing just that before he discarded the idea altogether.
For one thing, he was grounded.
Which meant that he wasn't even allowed outside his room until breakfast, which was still several hours away. Sirius might not be angry that Harry disobeyed if it was because he needed his father, but, then again, he might. Harry didn't really know anymore.
Besides which, Sirius hadn't exactly been happy about the fact that Harry had trespassed into his room to get the belt in the first place, so the boy also didn't know if the open invitation was actually still open. Maybe his father had decided that it wasn't such a great idea to allow Harry access to his suite if his son was going to do something so monumentally stupid.
No. Tonight Harry would just have to deal with it on his own.
It was weird because he hadn't had a bad dream involving the Dursley's since before Hogwarts. It was as if once Harry had found his true home, he'd never worried about being forever stuck at Privet Drive again. He'd been able to handle their taunts and jeers and pettiness because he knew that his time with them was temporary and only just another minor thing to endure until he was living his real life in Scotland.
Why his fight with his father had those people coming to the forefront of his subconscious mind again, Harry didn't know.
What he did know was that there was no chance of him being able to get back to sleep.
Not this time.
Without his father's soothing presence to calm him down enough to feel tired again, Harry was just going to do what he'd always done before and power through until daylight. He'd be tired tomorrow, but that was okay. He'd been tired plenty of times before.
He also had studying to do, having missed the precious evening hours that he counted on to keep up with his school work, so it wasn't as if he didn't have things to occupy him.
Just because Sirius hadn't come back to check on him after their row earlier, that didn't mean that Harry didn't obey his father's commands. He'd forced himself to eat a bit of the dinner that Bicky brought to his door a few minutes after Sirius stormed out, even though his stomach had been all twisted and stressed, and then he'd immediately climbed into bed and lay there for a very long time until sleep had finally claimed him.
But now he was awake. Far more awake than he wanted to be, and he wasn't going to waste the hours between now and morning when he had work to do, so he grabbed his books, piled them on his bed and dove into his studies.
Knowing that his father wouldn't being coming in tonight to chase off the nightmares.
*************HP***************
Harry was wrong in thinking that Sirius would be too angry to comfort him after their fight.
Whether or not they were quarreling, Sirius loved his son more than anything in the world and not even wild thestrals would have stopped him from going right into Harry's room to hug the stuffing out of his upset kid if he'd actually known about Harry's bad dream.
The unfortunate truth was that he just...didn't.
Because the secret behind Sirius' near prescient knowledge of his son's frequent bouts of night terrors wasn't a case of him being so in tune with his child's emotions that he could guess when Harry would have troubled sleep.
No.
Sirius, like many new parents before, simply used magic to cheat.
It was charm.
One that Lily had shown him right after Harry was born when Sirius remarked that she always just seemed to know when her baby son needed her.
He was visiting Godric's Hollow one day, just a week or so after Harry's birth, when a small, antique silver bell began tinkling on the kitchen counter. Lily had immediately dropped what she was doing and was already halfway up the stairs to the nursery by the time Sirius heard the first plaintive wail from his tiny godson. The crying stopped after just a second and it wasn't long before Lily came back down, a quiet little bundle propped up against her shoulder.
She'd marched over to Sirius and plopped the bundle, more blanket than baby, into Sirius' startled arms along with a bottle and said
"He's hungry, Godfather. Make yourself useful."
and then went back to chopping vegetables for dinner.
Although he'd been petrified that he could accidentally break Harry, Sirius had carefully held the wee one protectively against his chest, his usually mischievous eyes going soft as he stared adoringly at the perfect little person that had already stolen his heart. The one that had gripped his finger with all the strength of a grown centaur and was actively suckling on the bottle.
He'd known then that he'd do anything to keep keep his godson happy and safe.
But then that terrible Halloween night happened, and Sirius broke the promise he'd made to baby Harry when he chose revenge over the infant trusted to his care. So when Sirius had been given the chance to rectify that mistake years later, he'd made sure to do whatever it took to always be there for the boy.
The heartbreaking thing about the child monitoring charm was that it initially needed tears to cast.
Something that wasn't hard for the mother of a newborn to collect, but had been a bit trickier for the godfather of a partially grown teenager.
Eventually, Sirius had managed to siphon some of Harry's tears that had soaked his shirt when Sirius had comforted the boy after giving him a spanking for the first time for his unauthorized trip to Hogsmeade. When the awful deed was done and Harry had been put to bed, Sirius used the collected tears to charm the Marauder's Map: Sprog Edition he'd already started to work on, as well as a hand held mirror he was planning on using for communication but hadn't gotten around to doing the spell work on yet.
Now when the boy was genuinely in distress, Sirius was alerted either by the map that lived in the desk drawer in his office, or by the mirror that lay on the night table next to his bed. It wasn't very often that he was anywhere else without his son.
The only downside of using the charm was the fact that Sirius had also been crying that day, his own tears mixing in with his godson's, which meant that sometimes the map and mirror could tend to get a little fussy when Sirius was upset as well.
Unfortunately, this time Sirius was far from both his office and his bedroom when Harry had his nightmare, so despite the best efforts of the magical items, Sirius had no idea that his child needed him.
It had been a long time since Sirius was as hurt as he was when he left his son's room.
Angry? Sure. He'd been that angry plenty of times.
Not at Harry, but others.
Sirius had been blind with anger at Pettigrew. For his absolute betrayal and taking most of Sirius' family away from him. At that piece of human excrement Crouch. The person most responsible for his years of imprisonment. Ludo Bagman, if he was still alive somewhere, would probably want to steer clear of Sirius for the rest of his pathetic life, absolutely.
He'd been angry at his parents for their endless cruelty and his little brother for his disloyalty and treachery.
Most of all, he'd been angry at himself.
Sirius had been hurt a lot too, but never more than he was when his son accused him of wanting to punish him. Nothing could ever have been further from the truth, but the comment hit far too close to home for Sirius to just simply brush off as the outburst of a petulant child.
Because Sirius was the son of two people who genuinely enjoyed being cruel to their child.
Orion and Walburga had always seemed just a bit too eager to hurt Sirius, and there had never been any kind of remorse or regret on their part. They'd broken his bones and broken his spirit and he'd shed oceans of tears and blood more times than he could count, and all the while they'd done it with the righteous smiles of ones keeping family traditions alive.
Sirius had convinced himself that he was nothing like those monsters, but if his son could so easily make that kind of comment, then was he really?
It was his deepest fear thrown in his face, and something in that moment, as he walked away from Harry's room, broke him. It felt as if the walls of their home were closing in on him. He felt suffocated. Trapped. Deep seated memories of years of torture in a tiny confined space pressed down on him like a boulder lying on his chest and making it so very hard to breathe, and suddenly he couldn't stand to be there anymore.
So he ran.
During his years in Azkaban, Sirius had been able to somewhat cope with the daily depression and cold of being in the Dementors' presence by shifting into his animagus form. Because his mind as Padfoot wasn't nearly as complex as his human mind, it had often been a much needed reprieve from the emotional pain and suffering that the presence of the cruel creatures wrought over their inmates.
Only because of his unique ability had Sirius managed to withstand all the years of torture and still retain the majority of his senses once he was out. He knew he was extremely lucky. Others who served far less time on the miserable island went insane during their captivity and there was no coming back to reality for them afterwards.
He was free now, but occasionally there was still the odd night here and there when the stress and strain of life weighed down so heavily on the wizard that he keenly felt the need to shift into his more primitive state. It was an escape. A chance to allow Sirius' trouble mind enough space to sort and process his own duress in a way that didn't leave him spinning in madness.
He didn't indulge in it often, wanting to be strong and steady for his son, and his forays as a dog were getting less frequent as time went on, but once in a while Sirius still succumbed to the deep depression that only an evening spent as Padfoot could remedy.
Sirius, in his crumbling mental state after his row with his son, burst out the doors of Celestial Court, his skin itching madly as if his body had just as much of an urge to transform as his mind did, and when he leaped off the back stairs he let go of his grip on his own humanity and let Padfoot loose, landing with four paws on the ground to speed off into the night.
So while Harry was deep in the throes of his nightmare, the map fluttering madly to escape its confines and the mirror glowing bright enough to light up the entire room with a blinding flash, Padfoot was running in the forest on the outskirts of the estate, caring for nothing more than the wild rabbit he was chasing.
*************HP***************
Sirius wasn't at his place at the table when Harry made his way into the dining room the next morning.
Desperately wanting to see his father and try to apologize, Harry had made sure to arrive promptly at seven. Only Remus and Neville were there, deep in conversation about some rare herb, so the boy slid into his seat with a quiet greeting to the two and silently filled his glass with juice as he waited.
Hermione and Ron arrived a few minutes later, an argument over something trivial already brewing between the two of them. Harry couldn't be bothered to pay attention to their petty squabbles this morning. He'd known them for almost four years at this point and it was clear that they were never going to change, dating or not.
Sirius was rarely late to the table, but occasionally it did happen, and since time was quickly ticking by and classes would soon start for the day, Harry had eventually forced himself to slowly and mechanically consume a meal of sufficient size to qualify as acceptable for his father's nutritional standards, so that when Sirius did join them, he'd be able to truthfully tell his father that he'd eaten.
It was almost quarter to eight by the time the man finally made an appearance. Harry winced to see him looking so tired and worn, knowing that it was due to his behavior. Apparently he hadn't been the only one not sleeping last night.
"Good morning, Papa."
Harry's voice was quiet and tentative, his regret written all over his face when Sirius gave the boy a quick glance. There were dark circles under his son's eyes and Sirius had this brief spark of desire to just cancel classes for the day and spend time with his son, but the more dominant thought was that he needed to keep firm because Harry was being taught an important lesson that wouldn't be learned by coddling him.
He ignored the nagging little voice trying to tell him that it was his own hurt feelings driving him to that conclusion.
Good morning, Harry," he said instead, casting his eyes on a small plate next to Harry's juice glass. "Take your vitamins, please."
It was fair to say that Harry was more than a bit shocked by his father's cold greeting. Of course he'd known that Sirius was upset with him, but even when they were rowing he'd never looked at Harry so dismissively as he was now. On top of the upsetting nightmare he'd had, it was enough to make Harry really start to worry about the damage to their relationship.
Obediently he popped his vitamins in his mouth and swallowed them down with a sip of juice while his father read the morning newspaper, and he couldn't manage to summon up an ounce of the Gryffindor courage to speak again until the clock chimed eight and Sirius abruptly got up from the table and strode off towards the classroom.
It was an awful morning.
In class, Harry was treated just like the other students. It might be his home and technically his school, but Sirius had made it clear that there would be no favoritism right from the start. Not out of any kind of meanness, but because it was important for Harry to learn the material and not have it spoon fed to him.
And that was fine. More than fine.
But this morning, Sirius wouldn't even look at him in class. In fact, he seemed to be going out of his way to ignore Harry in favor of the other kids. None of which was helping the boy's already shattered ego. Even in Potions, where Harry had really worked his butt off to brew a beautiful example of an Invigoration Potion, Sirius had merely examined Harry's cauldron very clinically, agreed it was a perfect brew, graded accordingly and walked off.
Harry couldn't help his face falling at his father's lack of praise, garnering the attention of his friends who could tell that something was troubling him.
Lunch wasn't any better. Sirius had already left the dining room by the time the clock in the hall struck twelve-thirty. After an entire morning of futile efforts to get his father to acknowledge him, Harry's stomach was queasy and full of acid and he wasn't looking forward to what was going to happen next. Taking a deep breath, the boy stood from his seat at the table and started to leave.
"Alright, Harry?"
Ron was looking up at his best friend with a worried frown. It had been pretty obvious that there was some tension between Harry and his father today, but so far Harry had refused to speak about it during any of their breaks. Ron knew his friend well enough to know that Harry wasn't always comfortable talking about his problems, so he didn't push, but that didn't mean he didn't care.
"Fine."
"We're going out for a walk," Hermione chimed in, also worried. "Want to come?"
"I can't," Harry shook his head as he headed for the door. "I have to go write lines for my father."
That was all the confirmation that his friends needed to prove their suspicions correctly. If they'd still been at Hogwarts, Harry would have grumbled, but he would never have been this upset about getting a punishment of writing lines. Obviously it affected him more when it came from his father.
"Rotten luck, mate," Ron said sympathetically as he slapped Harry on the back. "We've all been there."
Harry gave him a little nod and a sad smile and then took off for his father's office before he was late. The last thing he wanted to do was anger Sirius even more by acting like he wasn't take this restriction seriously.
Standing outside the office door, Harry took one more deep breath and then knocked.
"Come."
The stiffness in his father's voice was still there and doing nothing at the moment to make the boy feel any better.
Harry opened the door and entered the office, closing it softly behind him as he looked over at his father's desk where Sirius was sitting very straight and reading a thick scroll of parchment. He didn't look up to greet Harry like he normally would, so Harry just stood in front of the closed door and waited to be acknowledged, lest he do something wrong unintentionally.
A small desk had been set up right in front of the large one that Sirius sat behind, and there was already a sheet of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink waiting for him on it. It wasn't wholly unexpected since the boy already knew why he was here.
Another uncomfortable moment passed before Sirius finally looked up from his reading. He nodded in the direction of the small desk and Harry took the hint, moving quickly over to it and taking a seat.
"Have you decided to obey me and write the letter of apology?"
Sirius' question was asked in a firm tone, but Harry thought he could hear a slight note of pleading laced in the words. It made it even harder for the boy to give the answer that he knew would upset his father even more, but there was nothing he could do about it. No matter how angry Sirius was with him, he wasn't going to change his mind.
"No, sir."
"I see."
There was no argument in his father's statement. Not even any surprise really. It was as if he'd already known that his disobedient son was going to continue to defy him no matter what. Harry bit his lip, but he held firm. He'd written plenty of lines before and if he had to spend the next thirty minutes writing something trite about rude behavior and apologies then so be it.
"I had hoped that this wouldn't be necessary," Sirius continued, his face an unreadable mask, "but I was apparently wrong. You will write "I will not disrespect my father' until I dismiss you. You may start now."
Harry flinched, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. Nothing about what he'd done had been with the intention to disrespect Sirius. Harry would willingly admit that he'd been rude to the Tonkses, and he'd obviously refused to give them the apology that his father thought was their due, but Harry had done it because he loved his father. Because they were the ones that had treated him badly.
"Papa, please," he whispered, his heart aching. "I didn't mean to..."
Before he could finish his sentence he could see his father's temper flare to life as Sirius slammed a hand on his desk causing Harry to jump in his seat
"You did!. When you choose to act like that, it's a reflection on both of us. Now I don't want to hear another word, unless it's you saying that you are ready to write the letter I've asked you to."
Father and son stared at each other without speaking for a moment. It had been agony for Sirius to maintain his stern demeanor all morning and now in front of his kid who looked like he was going to burst into tears at any second. He was still upset with his son, but he also loved him deeply and was more than ready to forgive him.
At this point, Sirius wasn't even going to insist on the reciprocal dinner anymore. He'd given up any idea of forcing his son to socialize with his cousins for the immediate future. All Harry had to do was write a few lines of apology on a piece of parchment and then they could call this whole unhappy episode over and never speak of it again.
But to his sadness, Harry broke eye contact and turned his attention to the parchment, taking the quill in his hand, dipping it into the ink and then began to write.
For the next twenty minutes, the only sounds in the room were the scratching noises of Harry's quill and the occasional sniffle. Harry had his head bowed over the parchment, so Sirius couldn't see his face, but every time he heard the sad little noise it felt like taking a knife to the heart. Why he had to have the most stubborn child on the planet, he didn't know.
Sirius couldn't actually concentrate on his own reading while his son wrote his lines, so he flicked his attention from the clock on the mantle to the sad little mess of black hair across from him. All the while hoping and praying that Harry would just give in already. But the boy didn't try to speak another word after being shut down earlier, and Sirius found himself at a loss, knowing that they couldn't keep this up forever.
Finally, at five minutes before one o'clock, Sirius put a stop to the torture. Harry needed a few minutes to get upstairs to his Defense class if Sirius didn't want him to be late. The last thing he needed was for the boy to get scolded by Remus when he was already feeling raw.
"You may stop now."
He watched as Harry put down the quill and blew lightly on the ink to make sure it was dry. When the boy looked up, Sirius could see that he hadn't actually been crying, but he'd come pretty close to it. The doting father in him just want to rush over and hug his kid and tell him that he loved him, but the stern guardian that needed to teach rules and discipline hardened his heart.
Holding out his hand, Sirius waited for Harry to walk over and give him the parchment. He glanced down briefly and was actually pretty impressed on how much the boy had been able to write in that short period of time, but he didn't comment on it.
"Alright. You may go."
For just a moment, it looked like Harry was going to say something, but then the boy just swallowed hard and quietly left the room with his head bowed. Leaving behind a devastated father who was feeling very distinctively like a failure at the moment.
That lunchtime detention began a vicious cycle of upset for both Sirius and Harry that would last for the next several days.
Harry wasn't fighting his father on anything. Far from it.
He didn't complain that night when Sirius went up to the third floor sitting room to remind his son of his eight o'clock curfew. He quietly wrote his lines the next day without being told, sitting at a table in the pub across from the Tower of London where they'd eaten a late lunch after their tour while the other kids took a second run in the gift shop.
The whole day out in London Sirius watched him in silent hope that the boy would just give in and obey him, even if he didn't mean it and was just to stop all this nonsense. But Harry was every bit as stubborn as his mother ever was when she got the bit between her teeth and he seemed to be in it for the long haul while Sirius was the one whose resolve was failing.
Unable to look at his son's resigned face, Sirius had even stopped his nighttime visits, fairly sure that he'd wouldn't be welcome at the moment. That had been the hardest thing to do of all since the comforting ritual of tucking Harry in at night went a long way in making up for all the years of loss between them.
Sirius worked hard to hide it, but the years ofl torture had left him damaged in a lot of ways.
The emotional distance between him and his son wasn't doing anything good for Sirius' mental state and as time went on he clearly was starting to flounder. The oppressive silence of his once happy home had him once again retreating into his animagus form that night and seeing him spend far longer as Padfoot this time around. Completely missing breakfast and being absent around the chateau all morning while the Grangers were teaching their classes.
Harry studied hard and performed well in the classes he attended Friday and Saturday. Almost too well, as if he was desperately attempting to make up for any other shortcomings. Sirius barely saw him outside of classes, meals and the torturous line writing sessions. Both of them drowning but too stubborn to end it.
It took Molly Weasley all of five seconds to notice the tension between father and son, but with Sirius avoiding her like the plague, simply not in the mood for a lecture from her, and Harry being just as bad, there wasn't much she could do about it. Her tendency to stick her nose in where it didn't belong when it came to Harry was one of the reasons why Sirius didn't want to ask her to be godmother in the first place.
If she felt like she had some kind of proprietary claim over Harry's well being already, he couldn't imagine what she'd be like when she had an official role.
The Grangers didn't know enough about the family dynamic between Sirius and Harry to have a clear understanding of just how bad things were between them, and Remus was in the throes of dealing with the approaching full moon and not able to do much more outside of his duties to his classes.
But Sirius knew things between him and his son were really broken when Harry didn't ask to spend time with him on their designated day off together on Sunday.
Hermione and Ron, having been rebuffed on numerous occasions by an increasingly upset Harry, both fled to the sanctuaries of their parents' homes for the day. Ron taking pity on Neville and bringing him along to the Burrow just to get him away from the uncomfortable atmosphere for a while. So Celestial Court was well and truly empty except for Sirius, Harry and the elves.
At precisely seven o'clock that morning, Harry was in his seat at the breakfast table drinking a glass of juice when Sirius strolled in.
The stress of the last few days was showing clearly on both of their faces, although neither of them commented on it.
Truthfully, Harry looked like he'd lost his best friend, and sadly his father was too mired in his own feelings to realize that it was him.
Sirius, besides all his anger and insecurity, was dealing with the fact that he was terribly conflicted. On the one hand, he'd made this schedule in order to have a day where he could have quality time alone with his son. But on the other hand, technically Harry was being punished. Allowing him to skip his punishment lines for a day of fun would probably send the wrong message, but Sirius was also willing to entertain the possibility if Harry showed an interest in going out and about.
He didn't.
They shared a very quiet breakfast that Harry ate mechanically, and afterwards the boy sat in silence for a few minutes and then asked to be excused. Hurt, but not seeing a reason to say no, Sirius allowed it and didn't see his son again until Harry showed up promptly at noon for lunch.
By then Sirius had allowed himself too many hours alone in his own company to stew on the troubles between them and had become unreasonably irritated, somehow forgetting in his upset that he was the parent. That it was his job to make the offer of an outing to a son who was trying very hard to be respectful, just like his punishment lines told him that he should.
Because by now the real problem was that Sirius had forgotten what too many hours as Padfoot did to his human senses.
His time spent as a dog sharpened his primal instincts but dulled his human empathy. When he looked at Harry lately, he didn't see his beloved son suffering, he only saw a disrespectful pup who needed to learn the hard way who was pack leader. Years of James teasing him that he should make the transformation permanent because Sirius was sweeter as a dog was just that. A tease.
Not every dog could hold their own against an actual werewolf. In truth, the only reason Padfoot could go toe to toe with Moony and survive was because he was an Alpha, and as such he took his place as pack leader very seriously. Sirius was shifting near constantly at the moment when he didn't need to be on two feet, and the longer Sirius spent as Padfoot the more canine-like he was thinking.
It was a behavior that was beginning to have an adverse effect on his time as a human.
Sirius in his natural form could no longer see how close to a breakdown Harry was when the boy left the office to return to his room after writing his lines on Sunday. Especially with tonight being the rise of a full moon and the chance to spend the night running with his werewolf pack mate, the temptation to head back out into the forest, where the pain of facing his non-responsive kid wouldn't trouble him, was too much to resist.
Instead of going to his child and mending profoundly broken fences, Sirius left Harry in the care of the house elves to join Remus and vanished into the trees.
****************HP*************
Like a pressure cooker on the verge of explosion, after another night spent away from their home, howling in the woods, reality finally hit Sirius Monday morning.
Harry, far from being attentive in his classes like he normally was, was now obviously struggling. To the point that he came very close to blowing up the Potions lab and could have caused real injury to himself and the others if Sirius wasn't so quick with his wand. The lines that he'd written so clearly on his first day of restriction were now nothing more than chicken scratch and even in his altered canine mind state Sirius couldn't pretend any longer that his son wasn't spending most of that half hour brushing tears off his face instead of writing.
It had taken far too long for Sirius to recognize the symptoms of too much time as his alter ego, but he was finally there.
He didn't know how he'd been able to forget the bad effect it had on him. Probably because most of the time in Azkaban he'd just been grateful to have an escape from the torture. But this wasn't the same situation at all. Selfishly, he'd left his son to fend for himself for days just because Sirius had been hurt by the boy's words and needed an escape.
Some father he was.
Sirius watched Harry practically lose it as he futilely wrestled with his Arithmancy classwork and he looked at his son, really looked at him for the first time in days and saw how badly his kid was drowning. No longer seeing the impertinent child that refused to write a letter and only seeing a boy that desperately needed his father. Immediately he felt disgusted with himself for the way he'd been ignoring his son when Harry needed him most.
It was one of those times when he wished he'd never agreed to take in the other kids, since he was also responsible for them and couldn't just blow off their studies. So despite the desire he had to throw his arms around his kid and hold him close, he forced himself to wait one more miserable hour for the end of classes for the day, because this wasn't a conversation that would be over quickly and he didn't want any disruptions.
Weighted down with what felt like the worries of the whole world on his shoulders, Sirius made the slow climb up the stairs to the third floor study where the kids had gotten into the habit of spending their afternoon study hour.
He wasn't being intentionally sneaky as he walked along the corridor, knowing he'd guessed correctly where his son was when he heard their voices. It was just sheer dumb luck that they hadn't closed the door all the way and he was able to catch bits of their conversation as he approached.
"It's perfectly simple, Harry."
Sirius could hear Hermione's impertinent tone of voice from two doors away. While he liked the girl well enough, he did take issue with the bad habit she had of chastising her friends like a bossy little mother at times.
"No, it's not."
Although Harry seemed to be a little more determined in his answer than he'd been about anything recently, Sirius still frowned at the note of resignation in his son's voice. It was a sound that he simply couldn't bear hearing anymore.
"These lunch time detentions are killing you. Anyone can see that. Why don't you just tell him the truth. He'd want to know."
Sirius halted in his tracks after hearing Hermione's last sentence. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the he she was referring to was. Although he didn't particularly care for the idea of eavesdropping on the kids, he was desperate enough for the answers that his son wasn't giving him to do it. Reluctantly accepting that this might be his one and only chance to finally understand Harry's recent attitude over everything.
"It's just lines, Hermione. And there's nothing to tell."
"Rubbish."
The distinct sound of a book being slammed on a table echoed through the partially opened door and Sirius could picture Hermione giving his uncooperative son one of her patented glares.
"She's right, mate. You're not doing either one of you any favors by keeping this all to yourself."
Ron's voice was quiet, but firm and Sirius sent up a silent thanks to Merlin that Harry's friends cared enough about him to press the issue. He knew from personal experience that it was often much easier to talk to your friends than it was to your family. There was a long pause after that, none of the kids speaking, but just when Sirius had decided that the conversation was over and he should reveal his presence, his son suddenly exploded.
"I can't say anything! If I tell my father about Andromeda, then I have to tell him about Remus as well. And I just can't do that to him. I won't."
To say Sirius was startled by this unexpected direction of the conversation was the understatement of the century. He sucked in a deep breath of shock and went rigid at the mention of his oldest friend.
What did Remus have to do with any of this?
"You have to tell Professor Black how you feel before it's too late, Harry. Nothing good will come of it after if you don't."
And that was Neville, who still wasn't comfortable enough to use Sirius' given name in the after hours like Ron and Hermione were, but could clearly handle his headstrong son and who apparently knew just what to say to kick the proverbial hornet's nest.
"Don't you understand? Remus is his best friend! The only one he has left," Harry practically shouted. "How easy do you think it's going to be for me to tell Sirius how much I hate the idea that his first official act as my father is going to be giving me away to the same two people who bollocksed up any chance we could have had to be family right from the start? They were supposed to care about him! And they just left him to rot in the horrible place!"
Badly shaken by this revelation, Sirius trembled in the hallway and had to fight to stay on his feet when his knees threatened to collapse. The painful realization of what his son's attitude had all been about finally washed over him, and he might not ever have made himself move if he didn't hear the unmistakable sound of his son's quiet sob.
"They left me to rot too. Andromeda is a complete stranger to me, but Remus was supposed to be one of my Dad's best friends, and he never even bothered to speak to me until I saw him at Hogwarts. Now he's going to be my new godfather? He'd probably just dump me back at the Dursleys again if anything happened to Sirius. He didn't care about me then, why should I believe he'd care about me now?"
This was agony. Utter and complete agony. His poor, poor boy. Carrying this huge weight around and Sirius had been completely blind to it.
Running a hand down his face to swipe away the trail of tears that were now falling down his own face, Sirius forced himself up to his full height, walked into the doorway and cleared his throat.
"Hermione. Ron. Neville. Would you all excuse us, please? I need to speak to my son."
Harry looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his green eyes wild at the unexpected sight of his father while the three other teens jumped to comply, making as quick of an exit as they could and leaving Harry behind with a couple of worried glances thrown in his direction before they disappeared.
Sirius walked slowly over to where his son was perched on the arm of a sofa, hugging himself around his middle. Even from a distance the worried father could see the ragged breathing of his boy as Harry fought a losing battle to maintain his composure.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to know."
Harry's apology was whisper-quiet as he looked up at his father with wet, pleading eyes and Sirius felt like he'd gone practically insane just from hearing the despondent tone in his son's voice that had no place being there. In the blink of an eye he gathered his beloved child into his arms and Harry finally broke down, shaking from the force of the deep sobs he couldn't keep in anymore.
Sirius gripped his son tight as Harry's thin body wracked with spasms. So many tumblers were clicking into place and Sirius swore in every language he knew. Furiously chastising himself for being so incredibly blind and stupid that he never even saw what it was that upset his kid so badly. Never even thought about how the idea he had of giving his son new godparents would rip open old wounds that were so painful that Harry couldn't speak about them out loud.
His son had never given Sirius even the tiniest indication that he had issues with Remus, but clearly that wasn't the truth. And knowing that Harry bottled up his own feelings just so Sirius wouldn't feel guilty about his friendship with someone that Harry felt let down by was enough to crush Sirius completely.
The boy was falling apart in his arms and Sirius had failed him so badly that he didn't know how they would ever recover from it all. But Harry was clinging to him, ragged whispered apologies muttered into the wet fabric of his waistcoat, and Sirius could do nothing but shush him and soothe him because any attempt to assure the boy that none of this was his fault was falling on deaf ears.
After a few agonizing minutes, Sirius realized that he was holding his boy so close that he could feel the sharp pinch of Harry's glasses beginning to make an indentation in his skin.
Not that he minded his own discomfort, not after what Harry had been through over all this, but if it was paining Sirius' chest then it was hurting Harry's face even more and that Sirius couldn't stand. So he pulled back just enough to gently tug them away from the boy's nose to set them aside and then renewed his embrace even tighter.
Harry had his face buried against Sirius' collarbone as he sniffed wetly against his father's silk shirt and he mumbled an apology for the mess he was making, but Sirius just shushed him for that as well and rocked him, the enormous lump in his throat currently preventing Sirius from being able to speak words.
Somehow he managed to move them enough so that they were sitting on the sofa. The room around them was silent except for the occasional hiccup from the boy who was simply too exhausted to cry even one more tear and an occasional pop of firewood burning in the hearth. Continuing to mentally flay himself for his shortcomings wasn't going to help his child at the moment, so Sirius focused on calming him instead. Having missed his father's comforting presence, Harry snuggled in a bit closer and let the beating of Sirius' heart relax him.
"We're going to fix this, little one," Sirius vowed once he'd found his voice as he carded his fingers through his son's messy locks. "I promise you that."
"But I just..."
"No," Sirius scolded softly as he cupped the back of Harry's head. "No talking. Right now I just want to hold my son. We'll talk about everything later, I promise. And we'll come up with a solution, the two of us. But not yet. Not for a little bit."
That sounded okay to Harry who didn't appear to have any more energy left to protest as he sagged boneless against his father's chest. He was more than content to be held and soothed by the loving hands that stroked his hair and rubbed his back, his eyes blinking hard to stay open until they just couldn't anymore.
His father's gentle ministrations smoothed out the ragged edges of Harry's jangled nerves and it wasn't too long before the mentally and physically exhausted boy succumbed to sleep.
Sagging back against the couch, Sirius shut his eyes as he vacillated between being thrilled that he was no longer at odds with his child and worried beyond belief as to how they were going to remedy a host of very complicated problems.
**************HP****************
Harry woke to the feeling of gentle fingers carding his hair. He was warm and comfortable, his head propped up on something too soft to be anything but a fluffy pillow. He knew he wasn't in his room since he was lying on his side, his legs stretched out on a plump cushion that didn't feel anything like his bed. When he opened his eyes, he recognized the third floor sitting room and blushed as he began to remember what had happened before he dozed off.
The scent of his father's aftershave confirmed that Harry was curled up against Sirius, his head on a throw pillow on his father's lap. The room was dark except for the glow of the fire in the hearth and Harry could tell that he'd been asleep for a while. He felt better than he had in days, the much needed rest having recharged his body's batteries after so many uneasy nights.
For a moment, Harry contemplated just closing his eyes and going back to sleep, but he knew that he and his father needed to talk about the past few days whether he wanted to or not. Besides, Sirius had already guessed that he was awake.
"Hey there, you. Feeling any better?"
Sirius' voice was gentle. Concerned. Not at all cross anymore, and Harry smiled as he stretched a bit. The relief of the easing of tensions between them making it easier to breathe.
"Loads," the boy admitted as he shoved part of the blanket covering him down to his waist. "What time is it?"
"Half past ten. Do you want to go back to sleep? You still look pretty tired."
Harry shook his head and then pushed himself up into a sitting position on the sofa next to his father. Sirius looked pretty tired himself, but there was a soft smile on his face that had been missing for several days and Harry didn't realize how much he hated not seeing it until just this moment.
"No. Not yet. Unless you do?"
Sirius shook his head as well and then flicked his wand to summon two cups of cocoa from a tray that was sitting on the small table by the door. He handed one to his son and kept one for himself as a plate of sandwiches floated through the air and landed between them.
"We should probably talk. Don't you think?"
Taking a sip from his cup, Harry nodded as he swallowed. It soothed his parched throat and he felt the instant rush of bracing warmth spread through his body that happened when magical folk consumed chocolate.
"And you need to eat, young man."
The last thing Harry wanted to do was eat, but he obligingly grabbed a sandwich and began to nibble on a corner.
Sirius took his own sip, carefully crafting his opening words so as not to upset his son again. It had taken a lot to get them to this point and the last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing that would make Harry clam up again. The worried father was fairly sure he couldn't take any more of his son's silence without his heart actually breaking in half.
"I'm going to guess that your mood towards Andromeda has more to do with Remus than it does with her. Am I right?"
Busted, Harry could do nothing but nod again. It hurt him to admit something that he knew was going to upset Sirius, but it still needed to be said if they were to ever get past their recent row.
"He was one of your best friends," Harry said quietly incredulous. "How can you forgive him for just leaving you in that place? I could never turn against Ron or Hermione like that. Ever. I'd do whatever it took to find out the truth."
Sirius sighed heavily and put his cup down on the table in front of them. He pursed his lips as he looked at Harry, the wheels in his mind obviously spinning by the way he stared at the boy contemplatively before speaking again.
"It's not really that simple."
"It is," Harry insisted, his forehead scrunching up into a frown as he started to get worked up again.
"It's not."
The low but firm tone in his father's voice shut the boy down for the moment, but the scowl on his face promised that Harry's patience and understanding was not in high supply, so Sirius forced himself to continue.
"I can't really explain it in a way that you could understand everything that happened back then. It's nothing to do with you," Sirius placated when Harry looked to interrupt him, "but you don't know what it's like to be at war and I hope you never do. Things change during times of great strife like that. People change. We saw it more times that we wanted to, believe me."
Harry's eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth tightly shut, obviously looking for more detail before he made his mind up on Remus' guilt or innocence. Sirius hated talking about the past, especially that part of it, but the boy had the right to know.
"Remus and I betrayed each other because of misunderstandings," he finally said as he shrugged. "More than once, even. That's the truth, and that's why we have managed to salvage our friendship after everything that's happened."
Harry huffed and shook his head in disbelief, not understanding what Sirius was getting at. Remus hadn't been the one to spend more than a decade in prison.
"Think about it," Sirius coaxed, wanting his son to get there on his own. "Why didn't Remus know that Peter had been made secret keeper instead of me? You know that he thought me guilty right up until we met again in the Shrieking Shack."
It was true. Harry knew that part of the story well enough, but he'd been so happy about finally having his godfather that some of the details of that night had just been accepted without question by him. Because he knew that Sirius didn't like talking about the past all that much, it had never been a topic that Harry brought up.
"You thought he was the traitor."
Sirius nodded sadly as he reached over and ran a thumb across Harry's cheek.
"I'm ashamed to say that when it came right down to it, part of my pure-blood upbringing had me suspecting Remus because of his lycanthropy. Even though I had known him for years as practically a brother. Someone I'd risked my own life to help by becoming an animagus. It didn't help that my own blood brother was firmly in Voldemort's grip at the time or that we all knew Voldemort was promising the werewolves a better life if they supported him in the fight."
"He did?"
Harry was peering up at him curiously, and Sirius felt a pang of sadness that he had to share these dark troubles with a boy that had more than his fair share of them already. Harry was too young to have to worry about so much.
"You know that people like Remus have a very hard time in our world."
Harry nodded, having heard about some of the indignities that Remus was subjected to and how awful it was that someone as smart and talented as he was had a hard time getting enough employment to keep food on the table for something that wasn't even his fault.
"Well," Sirius continued, "Voldemort had the werewolves on his side because he promised them that they would live as equals in the new world he was shaping. Think about how attractive that idea would be to people who suffered because of a curse one day a month but were regular witches and wizards the rest of the time."
The boy's eyes widened, suddenly understanding the temptation to follow a dark lord. It was a pretty convincing argument if you were unfairly targeted by your own government.
"We knew there was a spy in our camp," Sirius said quietly, his eyes focused intently on Harry. "Too few people knew about some of the Order missions your Dad and I went on and even fewer the ones your Mum and Dad did together. But somehow the Death Eaters always managed to be there when we showed up. There had to be a traitor among us."
He reached down for his cocoa and took another sip to wet his suddenly dry throat. It was hard to relive those painful days.
"We were foolish. None of us suspected Peter, just because we never really had any respect for his talents as a wizard. He'd always been a bit of a clod when it came to studies and we just didn't think he had the ability to fool us as well as he did."
"I understand," Harry interrupted, wanting this part of the conversation to be over for his father's sake. He didn't want to talk about the rat.
Sirius looked like he was barely holding it together at the moment, and the last thing Harry wanted to do was cause him even more grief.
"Then I need to explain about why he never approached you at the Dursleys."
Harry stiffened, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer to this. After all this time, he'd decided that it was just something he was going to have to live with. It just didn't mean that he was okay with Remus taking over as godfather for Sirius, who'd done such a brilliant job once he was free.
"I know you feel abandoned," Sirius said softly as he took one of Harry's hands in his and squeezed. "And that's your right. But you should know the whole truth. For one thing, I'm the one who let you down the most."
Harry immediately went to protest, but was silenced by his father holding up a hand.
"It's true, little one. I can't hold a grudge against Remus when I'm the bigger offender. It was my responsibility to protect you the night that your parents were killed, not his, and I didn't do it. If you can forgive me, you should at least think about trying to forgive him as well once you hear the whole story."
After a long moment, Harry finally nodded and let out a deep breath. He supposed that Remus at least deserved the chance to be defended if Harry was going to hold such a grudge about it all.
"I want you to put it in this context, okay?" Sirius waited for a nod before continuing. "Let's say that Voldemort has returned and you and your friends are the young ones now fighting for the Order. Then Ron gets targeted because his father is making waves at the Ministry and there's a lot of secrets that are getting out about you all and when you're not scared of being killed off, you're paranoid about everyone around you."
Harry swallowed hard. It was difficult to put himself and his own friends into a story where he already knew how badly it ended.
"Then Hermione starts acting strangely and keeping secrets. You don't know at the time that she's on a different mission for the Order because it's all very hush-hush and no one else can know just in case it goes badly, but it makes you wonder what she's up to when she's not around. Then, Ron and his wife have a baby and they make you his godfather and there's finally a bright spot in your life that makes up for all the rest of it."
Here Sirius stopped his tale to lean over and drop a kiss on the top of Harry's head and smiled at the boy like he was the best gift he'd ever been given. Harry's chest bubbled up with warmth as he scooted just a little bit closer to tuck himself under Sirius' arm.
"But then Ron and his wife are killed," Sirius continued sadly, "and you know for sure that one of your best friends has betrayed them, but not the one you suspected. You get falsely accused and sent to Azkaban after Neville frames you because you're the only one who knows for sure that he was the traitor all along. Hermione doesn't know what to think, other than what she's told, and she suspects you because you too have been acting strangely around her for months. It doesn't make sense, but she sees things only in a logical way, so she believes the lie."
"Hermione's smarter than that," Harry protested. "She'd never believe it. She'd want to know for sure."
"Remus is smart too," his father reminded him with a pointed look. "But as I said, these were strange times and the facts as presented to him all said that I was guilty."
Harry scowled, but he nodded so his father would continue.
"Your godson's parents are dead. Everyone thinks Neville is dead. Hermione is devastated by the loss of her friends. And while she would have loved to take the baby in to raise herself, the Ministry won't allow her to because she's a Muggleborn and they don't have the same rights as the rest of the wizarding world."
The point hit home in that context and Harry swallowed hard as he thought about everything he already knew about prejudice against the Muggleborn. It certainly wasn't as bad as what werewolves had to go through, but he couldn't deny that obstacles existed.
"The only way Remus was getting you, was by stealing you away," Sirius said gently, knowing he had his son's attention now. "And if he'd been caught, he would have been executed as a dark creature and you would have been sent to live with Merlin knows who, because with the Ministry involved every pure-blood family would have been clamoring to take custody of the famous Harry Potter, and most of them wouldn't have done it because they wanted to care for you like a son."
Harry's eyes went wide as he contemplated that aspect of the story as his father gave him a very meaningful look. It had never occurred to him before that someone besides the Dursleys would have been tapped to raise him.
"Even if Remus had successfully evaded the people looking for you," Sirius went on, "he couldn't possibly have provided for you. Your Mum and Dad were supporting him financially before their deaths and with them gone and me in prison, Remus had no one to turn to for help. He lived a very unstable and meager existence until Dumbledore offered him the teaching job. He wouldn't have had access to your vault, since it would have given the Ministry a way to find you, and he would have struggled to feed and house you. Not to mention what to do with a child each full moon when he had no way to get the Wolfsbane."
"Okay, I get it," Harry finally conceded after a moment of contemplation. "Really. But that doesn't explain why he never even sent me a letter all those years explaining everything. I mean, he knew where I was. He told me so himself."
"I know," Sirius nodded, "and believe me, I'm not happy about that part myself. I can only say in his defense that Dumbledore made a very convincing case to just about everyone in our circle that you were better off being left alone with your aunt and uncle without any magical interference. Remus was worried about drawing a Death Eater to your door by writing to you or visiting you."
Against his will, Harry began to feel parts of his animosity start to fade away. A lot of what Sirius was saying made sense, but it didn't mean that Harry would just let it all go.
"I'm still angry," he insisted, giving his father a bit of a defiant glare.
"And you are allowed to be."
Sirius wrapped his arms around his son and drew him close, letting the boy rest his messy head on his shoulder. The tension that he'd felt physically present in Harry's shoulders earlier seemed to have loosened a bit, but Sirius wasn't foolish enough to believe that this conversation was over. Although it had gone a long way to healing some of the wounds.
But now he needed to ask the question foremost on his mind, even if he got the answer that would hurt him terribly.
"I know you're upset about my pick of godparents for you. Have you changed your mind about the adoption? I won't be cross if you have, I promise."
Harry drew in a deep shuddering breath as he pulled out of Sirius' embrace and gave him a hurt look.
"No! Never!
The boy stared helplessly at him for a few seconds and when Sirius didn't say anything further, he bowed his head and nervously picked at the seam of the sofa.
"Have you?"
Harry's voice was so small and insecure that Sirius' heart broke as he rushed to pull his child back into his arms to hold him tight. Nothing would stop him from officially making Harry his son if that's what the boy wanted.
"No," he stated firmly, making sure his own voice was steady and sure. "Never."
He could feel his son relax in his embrace at the confirmation and he exhaled a deep breath of his own now that he knew for sure that things would be okay between them again. This whole saga had been more than his poor heart could take.
"We're going to talk about picking different godparents for you," Sirius assured his son after a moment. "It's important to me to know that you'll always be taken care of, but it's clear that I should have asked you for your opinion in the first place. I'm so sorry that I didn't."
"I don't want to talk about that now," Harry murmured against his father's chest. He was safe and comfortable where he was at the moment and had no desire to ponder on reasons why Sirius wouldn't be around to finish raising him. "Can we think about it later? Please?"
Sirius reached over and drew the discarded blanket up over his son and settled them both a little more comfortably on the sofa. He'd get Harry bundled into his own bed later, but right now he just wanted to hold his kid for awhile and forget about the past few terrible days.
"Sure we can. I'm not going anywhere, little one. I promise."
****************HP*****************