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

42. Chapter 42

A/N Finally finally! Sorry for the long wait. Here's the monster chapter of monster chapters. I'm sure there are plenty of typos galore but sometimes I find it easier to edit after publishing, so sorry if the mistakes are glaring until I get to them!

Full of angst and joy and fluff. A briefly naughty Harry, a strict Papa, teenage rebellion, adoption drama, unbearable cuteness and all the things.

Thanks as always to my lovely readers. Hope you enjoy!

Flames will be ignored.

Grab a blanket, a bottle of water and some snacks! It's going to be a long ride!

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

Harry stood in the doorway and swallowed heavily at the touching scene in front of him.

The cheerfully decorated nursery was flooded by warm lamplight as James Potter sat in a wooden rocking chair, holding a very small Harry in one arm and a large colorful book in the other. Baby Harry, with his shock of black hair already sticking up everywhere, was dressed for bed in a bright yellow babygro sprinkled with tiny dragons, kicking his little feet excitedly as he tried to grab at the pages.

"Not yet, Monkey," James said in amusement as he gently pulled his tiny son's hands from the book. "We have to finish this page first."

When baby Harry grunted his displeasure, teen Harry heard a soft bark-like laugh to his side and turned his head. Twenty-year-old Sirius was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed as he gazed fondly at the father and son. Harry drew in a sharp breath, as he almost always did when seeing the young, not quite carefree but still youthfully handsome face of his soon-to-be adoptive father. Almost entirely absent of the near constant state of worry that Sirius sported now.

A squeal of delight rang out across the room and drew teen Harry's attention back to his baby self who was waving his chubby arms at the bottle that James now held. The young father smiled widely as he popped the nipple into his eager child's rosebud mouth and the infant immediately began to suckle contentedly, the fingers of one pudgy little hand tugging at his own short curls and the other wrapping itself in James' robes.

"That's better, hmm?"

James gazed adoringly at his tiny offspring as the baby fed and began to settle, while teen Harry stood watching from the doorway mesmerized, his expressive green eyes filled with longing.

"You're going to grow up big and strong, just like your Dad," James cooed, leaning his head down to nuzzle his nose against his son's soft hair. "Not like that tosser, Uncle Sirius."

A sharp snort of amusement to teen Harry's side let him know just what Uncle Sirius thought of that remark.

"You better hope he takes after me," young Sirius chuckled good-naturedly, "and not your poxy self. And I'm telling Lils that you called me names in front of the baby."

James scoffed at the threat, briefly nibbling on the fingers baby Harry was insistently trying to stuff in his father's mouth before kissing the miniature fist and offering his own finger for it to curl around.

"Go right ahead," James challenged with an evil smirk, never taking his eyes off his son. "I'll just tell her that you're already teaching Harry how to flirt with girls. That should go over well considering she barely wants to share him with me, and I helped make him."

In the doorway, young Sirius winced and teen Harry huffed out a quiet laugh of amusement at the obvious fear on his then godfather's face. Truly, Lily Potter must have been quite a force of nature if just the threat of her displeasure could cow the fiercely brave auror so easily.

"Now," James continued, juggling his son, the bottle and the large book as best he could, "kindly sod off so I can finish our story and put this little one to bed."

"Babbitty Rabbitty, hmm?" Sirius remarked with a large grin of his own, standing up straight and shrugging. "I guess I'll just go down and tell Lils that you're already teaching Harry about becoming an animgus."

Teen Harry watched in amusement as his Dad's head jerked up and his face paled.

"Wait. Pads!"

Another barking laugh rang out as Sirius turned to leave and the room became engulfed in a white mist. Harry thrust out a hand towards James, desperately wanting to stay in the moment, but the end of the memory forcibly yanked him up and out.

"No! Dad!"

A second later he found himself standing above the pensieve from its place on the table that Sirius had set up in Harry's room, his chest heaving and his cheeks wet with tears.

Feeling suddenly bereft, Harry swiped at his eyes as he took in deep, calming breaths and stared into the swirling magical water. It didn't matter that each time he entered the pensieve he knew from a logical viewpoint that he'd never be allowed to stay in the memory, but that didn't mean that he wasn't always gutted after being ejected from one anyway.

He let himself calm down for a moment before waving his wand over the bowl and returning the memory to its proper vial that he carefully replaced in the rack with the rest of them. A round dozen of shimmering vials containing Sirius' memories of James Potter lay in wait for Harry's perusal. After a few weeks of joint viewing, Sirius himself had been emotionally unable to continue their trips into the past, so he'd ultimately relocated everything into Harry's room where the boy could enjoy them at his leisure.

Harry appreciated the opportunity to watch the memories on his own, when he wouldn't feel the added pressure of keeping his composure in front of Sirius. Not that his Papa expected him to be stoic about it, but Harry wanted to at least attempt to maintain the illusion that the memories didn't wreck him completely. Sirius wasn't fooled, but he did respect Harry's wishes on that front anyway.

Keeping the vials in his room, however, meant that Harry was depriving Sirius of those memories. Something that the boy had truly mixed feelings about, because the idea of Sirius losing his memories of events, even temporarily, didn't sit well with his son. Originally, Harry had refused his Papa's offer of the loan of something so precious, but Sirius had just smiled sadly and assured the him that he had thousands of good memories with Harry's Dad and was more than happy to share them all with his son.

Their son.

Especially when Sirius still felt too raw to view them himself. He'd been adamant that it wasn't fair to deprive Harry of a chance to see his Dad just because Sirius had a hard time with it.

And the more Harry delved into the pensieve, the more he understood Sirius' pain at seeing the past images of James Potter when he was unable to see him in real life. Alive and healthy, strong and smiling, like he always was in the misty world of yesterday. Because being in the memory always made him feel warm and happy, but the grief of losing his Dad all over again after being pulled back out again was almost too excruciating to bear.

Reluctantly, Harry turned away from the rest of the tempting vials and slowly shuffled back to his bed. It was already late, probably close to midnight. He was supposed to be in bed fast asleep right now but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about his parents, his Dad in particular, and after spending an hour tossing and turning, he'd gotten up to watch some of the memories again.

For a brief moment he thought about padding across the hall and knocking on Sirius' door. Not for comfort, exactly, but just a little company when Harry didn't necessarily feel like being alone at the moment. It helped that he knew he wouldn't be turned away if he knocked, and also that his Papa wouldn't be at all cross for having been woken up if Harry needed him.

That knowledge alone was really more comfort than the boy thought he'd ever have, to be honest. A complete one-eighty from his life growing up on Privet Drive.

Sirius probably wouldn't even scold Harry for spending time in the pensieve instead of sleeping, no matter how strict he was about bedtimes. Because he of all people knew just how important it was for Harry to reacquaint himself with the faces and voices of his parents when he had no good memories of his own. Especially now with the adoption just around the corner.

And really, that was just another reason why Harry felt good about the adoption.

Knowing that Sirius would never dream of stopping Harry from holding his Mum and Dad close to him.

Because Lily and James had meant so much to Sirius too, and it was just as important to him as it was to Harry to keep them alive in their minds and hearts.

But as Harry forlornly crawled back under his blankets, sleep the furthest thing from his mind, he also couldn't help remembering the piece of advice that Professor Dumbledore had given him after catching Harry staring longingly into the Mirror of Erised.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."

Not that he wanted to stop viewing the memories, but he should probably think about giving the vials back after seeing them once. After all, it was nice to be able to see his parents as people, and not just as the legends that the wizarding world made them out to be, but it wasn't like he could interact with them. They weren't his memories after all.

Harry remembered the almost addictive lure of the mirror. How easy it had been to lose himself in a dream. It had been a way to feel like he had a family, when he really didn't have one.

Well, one that wanted him anyway.

Only now, Harry did, and that fact alone made all the difference.

But it didn't necessarily mean that he wanted to give up his evening forays into the past completely. To see his parents, young and in love with each other. Doting and over the moon about him. Real visible proof that he had been a much loved child before they were cruelly taken away from him.

Slapping his hands down on the bed at his sides, the boy huffed in frustration, knowing that the argument running on an endless loop in his brain wasn't going to be resolved any time soon. Turning on his side, he drew the blankets up to his neck and burrowed into his mound of pillows as he shut his eyes and prepared for another night of fitful rest.

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

Unsurprisingly, Harry was grumpy as the next day started off with a sleepy start for him.

After tossing and turning most of the night he hadn't wanted to get out of bed this morning and eventually Sirius had sent Dobby up to insistently tug the tired teen from his cozy nest. He'd uttered a few choice words at the poor house elf that would surely have seen him in trouble with his father, but he slumped off to the bathroom for a shower just the same so Dobby could report back that he was up and on his way down.

So now the boy was hunched over his plate of eggs and sausages, his worried father frowning at him occasionally as Harry picked at his food and repeatedly yawned.

"Alright, kiddo?"

Looking up briefly, Harry nodded with a small smile and, not wanting to tell Sirius why he was tired, made a show of popping his vitamins into his mouth and swallowing them down with a large gulp of pumpkin juice in an attempt to make his father smile.

"I'm fine," he assured the fretful man hovering over him. "Just had some weird dreams."

Sirius' increasingly pinched face made Harry realize his careless misstep and he rushed to shake his head to assure his Papa that it had been nothing more nefarious than the normal nocturnal silliness most people dreamed about during their sleep.

"Nothing like that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and casually stretching a bit so Sirius could see that he was indeed fine. "There was a party and some garden gnomes riding brooms and drinking tea from really large cups. I don't know."

The boy shrugged innocently as Sirius' mouth finally curled up into an amused smirk and he shook his head fondly at his imaginative child. Anytime Harry could have normal dreams and not night terrors or visions of dark lords was a good night in his book.

Thankfully it seemed that his little ruse had worked, and Harry was mercifully spared any kind of teasing by the arrival of Xerxes and Hedwig soaring into the dining room, both of them ferrying more than one piece of mail. Seeing the owls laden down with post, Sirius frowned again and made a mental note to give real consideration to the idea that it might be high time to add another family owl to the residence. Since his owl, along with Harry's snowy girl and Ron's Pig, were now the only ones allowed through the heavy Celestial Court wards, it meant that the poor birds were constantly in service with multiple deliveries and pick ups.

It wasn't fair to the faithful animals, to be honest. But Sirius was being extra cautious and he wasn't about to risk his son's safety with potentially hexed mail either.

Xerxes, his wide, black feathered wingspan soaring majestically across the room, delivered a large pile of letters in front of Sirius and then haughtily helped himself to the rest of the bacon on the wizard's plate before flying off to rest. Behind him, Hedwig dropped the envelope clutched in her right claw at Hermione's plate before flapping over to Harry and giving him the rest of her load. She nipped at Harry's ear affectionately as he gently stroked her feathers and cooed happily when he surrendered an entire sausage to her to make up for her labors.

"Thanks, girl," Harry whispered as his eyes grew big with excitement from seeing one of the letters. "Get some rest now, yeah?"

She hooted tiredly, and with her sausage firmly in her grip, flew off to seek the comfort of her perch in Harry's room to enjoy her hard earned breakfast.

With the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas Day, Harry tore into the envelope in his hands before extracting the parchment and rapidly scanning the contents. Next to him, Sirius swallowed a mouthful of coffee and attempted to be casual about his interest in what had Harry so rapt in attention.

"Something fun?"

As an answer Harry's grin split his face and his eyes were bright with glee as he passed the letter over to his father.

"Hestia's going to come to dinner tonight after all," the boy gushed, unable to contain his happiness. "Her meeting got cancelled, so she's free. We'll need to add her floo to the wards here now, won't we?"

Sirius didn't want to spoil his son's mood by saying that he wasn't quite ready to relax some of the manor's security to include another floo connection. It was a tricky situation, especially seeing how Harry knew that the Tonks home was already connected. The very last thing he wanted was to create another row with his son that involved Andromeda.

To be honest, Sirius was still surprised that Hestia agreed to become one of Harry's godmothers in the first place. After Sirius and Harry had their discussion on the topic, he'd dutifully honored his promise to his son and sent Xerxes with a letter to Hestia inviting her to join them for dinner the following day. When she had declined immediately, stating a conflict with a prior engagement, Sirius figured that it was her polite way of keeping their acquaintance cordial but distant.

He didn't feel particularly good about the relief her response gave him, especially since Harry had been quite upset about it, but it didn't change the fact that he was indeed relieved.

But then Arthur had shown up after dinner that night while the children were studying to deliver another letter from Hestia that she had managed to pass on to her fellow Ministry employee when her own owl hadn't been able to penetrate Celestial Court's wards.

This letter contained an invitation from her asking Sirius and Harry to meet with for lunch instead, if it was convenient. Very enthusiastically suggesting a nice little kebab place near the Ministry that she swore had the best food in Westminster.

Sirius knew the place, as it was quite close to his flat in London as well, and since time was of the essence, and Harry begged and pleaded to go, Sirius had sighed and accepted, despite it being in the middle of a school day. Remus easily agreed to take care of afternoon classes for the rest of the students, and Sirius and Harry took the floo to the flat and walked the few blocks in time to join Hestia at the restaurant.

There, over plates of döner kebabs and chips, Harry asked Hestia to stand as godmother, and with Lily's green eyes soulfully staring at her, she'd been helpless to say no.

Tonight Celestial Court was going to host a family dinner in preparation for the adoption ritual that would be taking place in just a few days' time, and Sirius was forced to admit to himself that he was obviously still struggling with his mixed feelings about Hestia being included.

"Why don't I just have her meet Andromeda's family at their house?" he suggested instead. "They can all travel here together."

Immediately Harry's face clouded over and Sirius silently swore in his head for stepping on an emotional landmine with his kid.

"She's going to be one of my godmothers, Papa," Harry curtly pointed out. "If you can trust her with that, you can trust her to have a connection with our house, right? I mean, we're going to need to tell her the secret of our location anyway if she's to come to dinner."

And that was the problem in a nutshell.

Because while Sirius was willing to go on a little faith that Hestia had nothing but good intentions as far as Harry was concerned, he wasn't entirely comfortable gambling with her having open access to their home until they got better reacquainted after so many years of no contact.

Apparently, from the irritated look on his son's face, Harry didn't feel the same way.

At this point, Remus, who'd been trying very hard to not eavesdrop on the conversation, finally cleared his throat as he buttered some toast from his seat at Sirius' left hand.

"As it happens," he began casually, "I need to pick up my dress robes for the ritual at Madam Malkins today. I was planning on stopping in after we finish our afternoon Muggle outing. But I'd be more than happy to swing by Hestia's flat while I'm in the area and bring her here by side-along so that she can at least apparate onto the property on her own going forward."

Sirius nodded gratefully at the suggestion but it did nothing to stop Harry from glowering across the table. The crabby and sleep deprived boy subconsciously curled his hands into fists at what he perceived to be a slight on the person he had chosen as godparent.

"So Andromeda can come and go as she pleases, but Hestia can't?" he stated testily, attempting to keep his voice low so the others at the table didn't overhear the argument. "That's not exactly fair, is it?"

Counting to ten in his head, Sirius took a deep breath and reached to put his right hand on top of Harry's left fist.

"Hey," he soothed, "it's not like that. For one thing, Andromeda doesn't have my leave to 'come and go as she pleases'. But don't forget that she did spend a lot of time at Celestial Court too while we were growing up, just like me. This has been a Black family home for generations, so it's a little different with her."

"Sounds like a load of rubbish to me," Harry grumbled as he jerked his hand away from his father. Clearly his restless night was making him a bit more sensitive and unwilling to be placated.

At that remark, Sirius' face grew stern as he leaned back in his seat. Remus' eyebrows had risen up into his forehead in disapproval, but he wasn't going to put himself further into the middle of this discussion. He picked his discarded newspaper back up and kept his opinions to himself, letting Sirius handle Harry's shirty behavior.

"Mind your tone, young man," Sirius warned quietly but firmly. "You don't need to agree with me, but my decision is final. Hestia is certainly welcome here, but we won't be connecting her flat to the manor until I'm comfortable with her home having that kind of access to you. While she may be trustworthy, I don't know who else spends time in her flat. Nor is it my business to ask."

Most of the other people at the table were otherwise occupied with their meal or in discussions with each other, but there was one person who had been listening in on the conversation very intently and that was Molly.

"Why doesn't Hestia just come over to our house," she suggested sweetly. "Even though Arthur and I are not joining you all tonight, I'm more than happy to let her use our floo connection."

The not-so-subtle reminder that the Weasleys were not among the chosen godparents and thus not included in this evening's gathering had Sirius wanting to bang his head against the table in frustration. Next to him his son sniffed derisively, making his opinion on that matter also known quite clearly. It was a very passive-aggressive way for the outspoken witch to express her unhappiness with being passed over for the job herself.

Not that she'd ever say anything openly, of course, but there had been more than one pointed remark to that effect made over the last few days.

"Thank you, Molly," Sirius replied politely, his face frozen in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're very kind to offer, just as you were kind enough to invite the Grangers and Neville to dine with you, Arthur and Ron this evening since Harry and I are entertaining. But I think Remus made a good suggestion. After all, we do want Hestia able to apparate here if she's going to be making regular visits."

"Right," Harry snorted seemingly to himself as he played with his food, his voice, dripping in sarcasm, was nevertheless loud enough for the others at the table to easily hear him. "We can't have a nice person like Hestia connected by floo to the sodding manor, but if you're a maniacal arsehole like Bellatrix LeStrange, you'd be perfectly welcome because you bloody grew up here."

At the end of the table Neville's fork dropped from his hand and clattered noisily onto his plate. Ron looked over at Harry, gobsmacked, and even Hermione, who'd been deeply engrossed in her own letter, drew in a sharp breath. Sirius was fuming, Remus and Molly were suitably shocked and Hugh and Jean just looked confused about whatever it was that had just happened.

"That is enough, Harry James," Sirius growled at his son, no longer caring that the others could hear him. "Now you can go to my office and find a corner. I'll be along in a few minutes after you've had the chance to calm down and think about what you just said."

Scowling, Harry threw his napkin onto his still mostly full plate and abruptly pushed his chair away from the table before getting up and stomping out of the dining room. Taking a deep breath, Sirius schooled his features and looked down at the end of the table at poor Neville who had gone terribly pale.

"Neville," he called softly, waiting until the timid boy looked up at him. "Harry spoke without thinking because he's cross with me. Of course you know that what he said would never happen here, right?"

After a few awkward seconds, Neville, his face a sickly green, finally nodded before looking back down at his plate, causing Sirius to purse his lips in agitation at his son's thoughtlessness.

"Professor Weasley," he said to Molly in an official voice as the school headmaster, "Mr. Potter will be late for your Herbology class this morning. You're free to punish him for his tardiness at your discretion."

For once, Molly was speechless as Sirius casually poured himself another cup of coffee as if nothing was amiss.

"Sirius..." Remus started, only to be immediately shut down.

"Don't!" his friend snapped, dropping the coffee pot back down on the table hard enough to make a little of the liquid splash out of the spout. "He was way out of line."

Seeing that Sirius wasn't going to be reasoned with, Remus held his hands up in surrender and went back to his paper as Molly gathered her things and bustled off to the estate greenhouse to get ready for the lesson. In an effort to break the tension that she didn't understand, Jean turned to her daughter to change the subject.

"Is that another letter from Viktor, darling?" she asked with a smile.

Hermione froze in her seat as Ron flushed a deep red next to her and looked decidedly uncomfortable. They weren't back together, but it was an unspoken rule between them nevertheless that they didn't talk about Hermione's continued friendship with the Durmstrang champion. However, Ron was observant enough to know that Hedwig regularly made trips back and forth to Hogwarts to carry their mutual correspondence.

And it wasn't as if Jean Granger disliked the affable redhead that had been her daughter's good friend for years. She just didn't like the way Ron had behaved as a boyfriend. A relationship that resulted in far too many tears for Hermione since her daughter had sent her more than one letter asking for advice on why their dating life was so rocky most of the time.

Jean didn't know this Viktor Krum at all, aside from hearing him being praised as a world class athlete by all the Quidditch people.

But what she did know what that he'd never made Hermione cry.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione replied uncomfortably. "He's just catching me up on some of the latest Hogwarts news."

Ron sat in his chair for a few awkward seconds before pushing his plate away and standing up.

"I'd better go see if Mum needs any help," he muttered as he grabbed his school bag and made a quick exit with the still upset Neville right on his heels.

At the table, Hermione slapped Viktor's letter down next to her plate and shot her mother an exasperated look that didn't sway Jean in the slightest. She wasn't about to apologize for looking out for what she felt was in her daughter's best interests. Fortunately, a spat between them on the subject was avoided when, a moment later, Bicky and Lolly popped into the dining room to ferry the Grangers to their office.

Hermione got up from the table, tucking her letter into her school bag before giving Hugh an affectionate peck on the cheek, and Jean tried not to be hurt when she herself only got a terse goodbye from her daughter before Hermione also headed off for her morning lesson. Hugh patted her consolingly on her shoulder and a second later they were whisked off to London.

Wiping his mouth with his napkin, Remus pushed his plate away and turned to Sirius.

"See you in the foyer after Runes?" he asked as he stood to take his leave.

Sirius nodded distractedly and sighed as his friend left him alone in the dining room. There wasn't even a tiny part of him that wanted to go deal with his surly child, but he knew that he needed to.

The problem was that Sirius knew that he wasn't being entirely fair to Hestia, as she'd done nothing to earn his wariness. He just wasn't completely comfortable with her yet, and that wasn't likely to change any time in the near future despite what Harry wanted.

It was with that thought in mind that he reluctantly got up from the table and made his way down the hall. Opening the door to his office he saw his son standing rigidly as he faced one of the corners at the far end of the room. The stiff set to the boy's shoulders was a clear indication that Harry was still smoldering, which didn't bode well for the conversation Sirius wanted to have with him.

Harry stood silently and didn't openly react to Sirius' presence in the room as the man closed the door behind him, and the beleaguered father rubbed his face, feeling weary, even though the day had just begun, as he made his way over to his desk and sat.

"Are you ready to speak calmly to me?"

For a tense moment it seemed that Harry would stubbornly stay in the corner instead of answering, but eventually the boy begrudgingly responded.

"Yes, sir."

Sirius exhaled a weary breath as he leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him.

"Then you may come over and take a seat."

With that, Harry turned and shuffled over to one of the padded chairs in front of the desk and sat down, a defiant frown on his face that he didn't quite dare direct at his father. Instead he chose to stare at the papers Sirius had pushed off to the side while he waited for the inevitable lecture to begin.

"First of all, Neville didn't deserve that," Sirius began sharply as he stared hard at his son. "Before we leave for our outing today, you will sit in the classroom and write 'I apologize for my thoughtlessness' twenty-five times and give the parchment to him, along with a sincere verbal apology as well. You of all people know better, Harry James."

Harry's head shot up, his face awash in disbelief as he fumed and felt his cheeks grow warm thinking about how embarrassing it was going to be to have to write lines for a mate.

"Neville has to live here," Sirius reminded his son tersely. "He doesn't need to wonder whether or not the woman that tortured his parents ever stayed in the same room he sleeps in, or if she could just waltz through the front door if she managed to escape Azkaban. It's been done, you know."

Harry's eyes flared briefly from the stern dressing down, but, after a few seconds of feeling sorry for himself, he realized just how callous he'd really been in front of his sensitive friend.

He'd never want anyone to mention Pettigrew in front of him so glibly and he shamefully hung his head.

Sirius was relieved to see that his scolding finally seemed to take the wind out of Harry's sails. The boy's shoulders slumped and he nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Letting out a deep sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, Sirius got up from his chair behind the desk and walked around to sit in the other padded chair next to Harry. He reached out to tip the boy's face up so he could look at him directly.

"Remember when we talked about better verbal communication if we were having a disagreement?"

Harry nodded again as he fidgeted in his seat a little. By now he was willing to admit that he might have overreacted just a little bit earlier, but he still didn't like the fact that Hestia seemed to be getting treated poorly compared to Remus and Andromeda.

"I just don't understand what you have against Hestia," he finally muttered as he pulled his chin out of Sirius' gentle hold. "What's she done that makes you dislike her so much?"

"I don't dislike her," Sirius protested, shaking his head. "Not at all. In fact I was always quite fond of her during our school years, for what little we saw of each other. Believe me, if I did dislike her, she wouldn't be a part of your life, period."

"Then why can't we connect her floo?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You connected Andromeda's quick enough. What if I wanted to be the one to go visit her sometime? How would I get there on my own?"

And here was another problem.

It wasn't just Sirius being cautious about someone using Hestia's connection to gain access to Celestial Court.

It was Harry having easy access to Hestia that gave the insecure father a little bit of pause as well.

Harry's rapid fondness for Hestia had come as quite a shock to Sirius, because his son wasn't one to easily grow attached to people, having become reserved by nature thanks to the loveless environment he was raised in. But somehow Harry had almost immediately warmed to their old school friend and that little fact alone made Sirius uncomfortable.

Maybe it was just simpler to blame his hesitancy on fully accepting her as a new part of Harry's life by reasoning that the adult Hestia was a fairly unknown quantity, and therefore a potential security risk.

And sure, that was absolutely the lion's share of the problem because Harry's safety would always come first.

But there was another tiny part of Sirius that was maybe just a tad jealous that he might someday be forced to share Harry's affection with another person who the boy could start seeing as a parental figure.

Sirius wasn't proud of that feeling at all, but he was only human.

"We'd work something out," he assured his son after a fashion, "once I was sure it was safe. But remember that Hestia herself said that it wouldn't be wise for you two to be seen together too often while the Tournament was going on. It would be bad for her professionally if she were to be accused of showing you favoritism."

Harry frowned and nodded, remembering that part of the conversation they'd had during their lunch. Logically he understood the problem, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.

"Hey," Sirius said softly as he nudged his son's knee with his own, "it's only for a few more months, and then we'll see what happens after that."

"You'll open the connection after the Tournament is over?" Harry asked hopefully, his emerald orbs pleading up at his father like it was the most important thing ever.

Sirius wanted to say yes, because he could see how much it obviously meant to the boy, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Since taking Harry in, he'd tried very hard to not make promises he wasn't sure that he could keep. Because Harry had been let down by too many people in his life for far too long and Sirius never wanted to be among them.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, holding his hand up in protest when Harry's eyes immediately flared in anger. "Just...wait."

The boy, knowing that he was skating on thin ice with his father as it was, clamped his mouth tightly shut and forced himself to be quiet while Sirius explained. Across from him, Sirius closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose again and attempted to think of a way to make Harry understand how he was feeling without setting the hot tempered teen off even more.

"Thirteen years ago," he began after a moment, his voice tight with pain, "I trusted someone that I considered a brother with the lives of the people I loved most in the world. The result of my folly and that misplaced trust was utterly catastrophic. I can never allow that to happen again."

Harry flinched at the mention of Pettigrew's betrayal. Knowing well that the very thought of the traitor caused Sirius extreme pain and that he rarely referenced the rat in their home in even the most general of terms. To have Sirius willing to do so now resonated in Harry very deeply as it underlined just how strong his father felt about his position in this matter.

"I know as surely as I know my own name that Remus would rather die than betray us," Sirius continued, seeing that he had his son's full attention. "And you don't know Andromeda, or what she went through when we were younger, but she cut herself off from her entire family without hesitation rather than go dark like them. So I'm confident that no Death Eater is getting invited into her home when her own sisters are not welcomed."

Swallowing hard, Harry averted his eyes for just a second before returning his attention to Sirius. His father's reasoning was starting to be a little more clear as he saw where the conversation was going.

"I don't trust easily anymore," Sirius shrugged sadly. "I probably never will again. And it has nothing to do with Hestia as a person, or the fact that you were the one that wanted her instead of me picking her for you. You just have to accept that I will always, always, exert an overabundance of caution when it comes to your safety and well-being and that's never going to change. Because it's my job as your father to protect you from anything or anyone that could harm you, and your job to understand that."

Sirius gave him a watery smile as his eyes pleaded with Harry to understand. Seeing how distraught his father looked, Harry's own eyes filled with tears and he lurched forward and flung his arms around Sirius' neck. The boy felt truly awful for being so petty when it was clear that the person he loved most in the world was struggling with both his past mistakes and his concerns for Harry's safety.

"I'm sorry," he whispered miserably into Sirius' neck as the older wizard buried his face in Harry's mop of hair and shushed him. "Whatever you decide about Hestia is fine."

Those muffled words, filled with a child's sincerity, pierced Sirius' heart as he gripped his son tight in his arms. He rubbed Harry's back as the boy clung to him and wished desperately that they didn't always need to consider these kinds of horrible things in their daily lives. Wishing with all his might that they lived in a world where concerns about traitors and dark wizards didn't mar the happiness of what should be nothing but joyous family events.

"There, there," he soothed, gently easing Harry away after a few moments of mutual comfort and reaching up to smooth Harry's fringe back. "Everything will be okay, you'll see."

Harry sniffed and nodded, dashing a hand across his eyes and accepting the cool damp flannel that Sirius conjured to wash his flushed face.

He'd already been tired and irritable before he even made it to the breakfast table, and his puffy eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep and a few unshed tears, were now itchy and uncomfortable. The boy pressed the soothing cloth against his heated skin for a minute and the instant relief it gave had him feeling sleepy and wanting to just curl up in one of the cozy chairs in Sirius' office to take a nap.

"It's getting late and you're missing your first class, and Professor Weasley is likely to scold you for your tardiness," Sirius warned, feeling just a twinge of guilt over practically insisting on it in his anger. "I don't want to hear that you gave her any cheek about it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry assured him, nodding again as he reluctantly put the used flannel in his father's outstretched hand.

"She also seemed a bit put out about the dinner tonight," Sirius said with a grimace. "So it might not be a bad idea to swing by your room first and grab that gift we picked up for her yesterday."

"Yeah, I'll do that," his son agreed, sniffing as he stood up to go. "I'll stay after class and talk to her. Do you think Professor Black will let me be tardy to Ancient Runes without me getting into any more trouble today? I'm already in pretty deep as it is."

Sirius chuckled at the snarky tone in Harry's voice and nodded as he also stood and leaned against his desk.

"I'll have a word," he promised. "I've heard he's a wonderful chap so I'm sure it will be okay. But first, come here. We still have the little matter of your potty mouth to attend."

He crooked his finger ominously and Harry, having already started for the door, groaned since he knew what was coming.

"Oh, come on," the boy whined, sounding quite a bit younger than he actually was. "Do you really have to? You're already making me do lines."

Sirius had to fight hard to keep his stern countenance in the face of his kid being so stubbornly cute.

"Yes, I really do," he managed to say without smirking, forcing himself instead to remember the stricken look on Neville's face. "The lines are for being unnecessarily cruel and you know perfectly well that I don't like you using that kind of language, especially when there are ladies present. I also warned you what would happen if I had to scourgify your mouth while you have that leaf in it."

When Harry didn't move any closer, Sirius crossed his arms and subtly shifted his posture into a more intimidating pose.

"You're free to spit the leaf out and take the spell, if that's what you prefer," Sirius offered, shrugging as if he didn't care. "Of course you will have to start the thirty days over again at the next full moon."

His son's irritated scowl grew in intensity as the boy mimicked his stance by crossing his own arms.

"Or you could just not care so much that I swear occasionally," Harry countered, his temper rising again and his whole body oozing insubordination, "since I'm not a toddler."

"Or," Sirius responded with increasing firmness, now getting a little annoyed, "I could just march that contrary little bum of yours down to the greenhouse, give it a good smack in front of Mrs. Weasley and the others and put you in the corner for the rest of the lesson for not obeying me. And then wash your mouth out anyway."

Harry was reasonably sure that his father didn't actually mean it, but the hard set to Sirius' posture let his son know that it was possible he wasn't kidding about raising the stakes if Harry continued to defy him. And while Harry might be in a horrible mood from lack of sleep, he wasn't stupid enough to challenge his father if there was even the tiniest chance that the man would follow through on his threat, no matter how embarrassing it might be for his son.

The boy huffed and pouted a bit more before accepting that he wasn't going to win this debate. He dropped his school bag on the floor with a thud before shuffling closer to where Sirius was waiting for him.

"This isn't fair," he grumbled in an accusatory tone, not resisting when his father reached out to take him by the arm. "What I said wasn't even that bad and I bet you swore plenty when you were my age."

"And you'd be right," Sirius confirmed, shaking his head in exasperation at his kid. "Your Grandmother Potter, however, positively hated it. She thought it very unbecoming behavior for a properly raised wizard."

Sirius couldn't help the sad smile that formed as he fondly remembered the woman he loved as a mother. Dorea Black Potter had been as kind as she was formidable, and she'd never treated Sirius any differently than she had her own blood son. Whether it was affection or discipline.

"I assure you that she scrubbed my mouth out every time she caught me," he continued. "Your Dad's as well. No matter how old we were. So I know that if I were to let her only grandson speak like that, I have no doubt that woman would find a way to come back from the dead and scourgify the both of us."

While Harry scowled even more at that information, Sirius bent him slightly and quickly gave his backside three firm swats, just hard enough for the boy to feel it for a bit and hopefully make him give a second thought to the words he used in polite company.

Harry winced and then turned to glare up at his father accusingly when he was released.

"You actually kept count?" he demanded hotly as he reached back with both hands to rub at his smarting bum. Wholly affronted at getting a smack for each objectionable word.

His chin was jutting up defiantly in the air as Sirius frowned at him. They had a rule that rubbing wasn't allowed, and with a posture that positively reeked of insolence, the boy wordlessly dared his father to say something about it.

Sirius surmised that the little show of defiance was more a case of injured pride and youthful petulance than outright disobedience, and in the hopes that Harry wouldn't sulk all day about being punished, he decided to let it go instead of risking the quarrel escalating again.

"You mind your tongue and behave yourself, young man," he scolded however, completely unmoved by the boy's sour face. "Or there's more where that came from. Understood?"

For good measure, Sirius raised a sharp eyebrow at his son's scowl, recognizing the signs that Harry was challenging his authority and acting like a typical spoiled fourteen-year-old who was being far too stroppy for his own good.

Sirius had been fourteen once himself, and he understood all too well that boys of that age often butted heads with their fathers over their increasing independence. Especially when being disciplined. It was a natural part of the growing process.

And there would be more rows between them, since Harry was clearly starting to chafe under his father's firm rules for his safety. The boy was reasonably safe in their home, but Sirius knew he couldn't keep him locked down at the chateau forever. He also had an unsettling feeling that Hestia's entry into Harry's life was going to bring more conflict when his son started to push for some time away from Sirius.

But after another few seconds of posturing, Harry felt the ball of fire that had been burning hot in his belly suddenly evaporate, and the angry teenager Sirius had been bickering with was gone in a flash as quickly as he'd come. Leaving behind only Sirius' usually sweet son in his place who was now giving his father a sheepish look.

"Yes, Papa," the boy promised contritely as he dropped both the glare and the surly attitude in favor of leaning in for another much needed hug which Sirius was more than happy to give him.

And that was another thing when dealing with hormonal adolescents.

The mental whiplash of their rapidly fluctuating emotions.

Sirius shook his head again and hugged his kid, enjoying the affection while Harry was still willing to give it. He knew it wouldn't be long before the really belligerent teen years started, especially once Harry came of age and had no time for his Papa. He feared they'd be at odds at least until his son's early twenties rolled around and Harry suddenly realized that he actually missed being around Sirius.

Assuming they both lived that long, that is.

"You need to get more rest, little one," Sirius murmured almost to himself. Harry was leaning heavily against him, his eyes closed as he was comforted. "How much of this attitude today is because you're tired?"

All of it he suspected as his son just snuggled in even closer and didn't say a word.

"Perhaps we should postpone today's outing so you can go up for a nap. We have a big evening tonight."

"No," Harry groaned, his voice muffled into Sirius' waistcoat. "Please? I'm fine and I really want to go."

Sirius didn't think the boy was the least bit fine, but he knew Harry's desire to go on their trip today was genuine.

He'd kept to his word in letting his son choose their weekly Muggle outings, and while Harry had affably let the others make suggestions, today was supposed to be a visit to the RAF Museum. For a young wizard, Harry had a rather large fascination with Muggle airplanes, which probably shouldn't really be surprising considering how much the star Seeker liked to be in the air.

"Very well, but we are going to talk about the real reason you're not sleeping," Sirius cautioned as he rubbed his son's back.

In his arms, Harry froze, clearly caught in his little fib from earlier, and Sirius sighed deeply and just held the boy closer. There were only just so many battles he was willing to engage in with his kid at one time, and they'd already had enough strife for today.

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

Harry waited after the lesson was finished and the three other students filed out of the greenhouse before pulling a small wrapped box out of his trouser pocket. Mrs. Weasley was steadfastly gathering her teaching notes and the plant samples they had used in class today and very pointedly not making eye contact with him.

He'd finally made it to Herbology almost thirty minutes late, his arrival interrupting her in the middle of a lecture on Flitterblooms, and she'd given him a good scolding in front of the others that made him blush deep red from the neck up, as well as two hours worth of detention on Saturday pulling weeds. He'd sincerely apologized for disrupting the class but he also knew that it wasn't really his tardiness that she was upset over.

Now feeling awful, he cleared his throat and worked up the nerve to breach the silence between them.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he asked timidly, the awkwardness apparent in his tense shoulders, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Molly let out a small sigh of her own before putting down her tools and plastering on the warmest smile she could manage at the moment. She was trying very hard to not let her hurt show, but that didn't mean that her exclusion from a very important event in Harry's life wasn't still painful for her. The use of her more familiar form of address as opposed to her professional title didn't go unnoticed by her, and she could easily guess that Harry was about to bring up the one topic of conversation she didn't really want to have with him.

"Of course, dear," she forced out cheerfully, years of selfless motherhood overriding her personal feelings as she looked up and smiled at the boy she loved like another son.

She beckoned him over to her desk and he shuffled closer to her as he fiddled absently with the slightly mangled ribbon on the package in his hand. He felt extremely awkward talking with her about this, but it was a long overdue conversation and a subject that was obviously upsetting her. Harry cared for the kind woman far too much to not make sure that she understood all the particulars of why they chose who they did as godparents, and he also felt that it was important that she understand that not being asked to be a godmother was ultimately Harry's decision and not anything that Sirius had forced on him.

"I um..."

Harry shifted nervously, unsure of where to begin, and eventually decided to just dive in. He really didn't want to do or say the wrong thing and make matters worse, but as his Papa often said, the only way out was through.

"I want you to know that I'm really grateful for everything you've done for me since we met," he said began sincerely, meeting her eyes for the first time. "You didn't have to be so nice to a kid you didn't even know, but you were. In fact, you've always been really nice to me and I don't want you to ever think that I don't appreciate you."

"Not at all dear," Molly waved his words away as if they weren't physically painful to her. Not that she wasn't grateful to hear them finally being said, but she also didn't need him to feel guilty or, worse, beholden to her for simple acts of kindness to a neglected child.

"No, really," Harry insisted. He let out a deep breath and his nervous fingers crushed the box a little more, slightly marring the nice wrapping job that Bicky had helped him with. "That first year at school during the holidays, when I opened the package with the sweater you made me, it was the first time ever that I remember being happy on Christmas Day."

Molly's face softened immediately as her heart broke just a little more. Harry was always such a sweet and kind boy, and to hear, even in a roundabout way, how horribly he was treated by his so-called family made her want to go right out and hex the lot of them.

"Oh," she cooed as she reached out to take Harry's face in her hands. "It was no bother at all, dear. You know how fond Arthur and I are of you."

Harry nodded, a little smile on his face. "I know. I'm fond of you all too. And even though I have a real home now where I'm actually wanted, I want you to know that the Burrow still feels like a second home to me."

Molly preened, just about ready to shed a tear. She hadn't realized exactly how much she needed to have confirmation of Harry's regard and she could almost feel her wounded heart begin to mend a little with the assurance that he did in fact care for them as much as they cared for him. These last few days she hadn't been quite sure anymore.

"When Papa and I started talking about the adoption and naming new godparents," Harry continued, "you were absolutely my first choice to be godmother."

And just like that, Molly's face lit up like the sun, and Harry felt a pang of guilt over having unintentionally hurt her in any way when it was the very last thing he'd ever want to do.

"Well, that's very sweet of you to say, dear," she assured him as she patted his arm affectionately. "Really, it is. But of course it's Sirius' choice to make, isn't it? I know he and I don't always get on, so I understand. Don't worry yourself about that."

"No," Harry shook his head, determined that he wouldn't let his father be blamed for this. "Papa made sure that I had a say in it. That's why I wanted to explain to you why we didn't ask you in the end and chose who we did."

Molly was looking quizzically at him now, obviously confused when it was clear that Harry had wanted her after all. Giving him a chance to clarify, she waited patiently as the boy took a deep breath fortifying himself as he formulated the right words.

"Ron is my very best friend," he vowed firmly after a moment, his passion making her smile and nod. "In fact, he was my very first one as well. You see, I didn't have any friends growing up and it wasn't until I met him on the train that I finally felt like I had a real mate."

"I know that dear," she assured him as she took his hand in hers. "Ron thinks of you as a brother. You should hear how he talks about you at home. How lucky he is that Harry Potter is his best friend."

"But that's just it," Harry blurted out. "I'm Harry Potter, the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived. People usually just see me as some kind of hero and not as a person. Ron doesn't treat me that way. He never has. But I know that sometimes it's been hard for him to be the best friend of the wizarding world's most famous orphan. When I get all this attention heaped on me all the time and no one gives him a second glance."

"That's not your fault dear," she soothed, patting his hand. "You shouldn't have to worry about that."

Harry shrugged and gave her a sad smile. "But I do."

Molly clucked her tongue and moved closer so that she could wrap an arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Well, you're a very sweet boy, and Ron's lucky to have you as his friend," she said, giving him a little squeeze.

"I'm lucky to have him too," Harry insisted, turning to her to make sure she understood what he was trying to say. "That's why I don't ever want to do anything to muck it all up."

"Muck up what exactly, dear?" Molly asked, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. She really couldn't see where Harry was going with this.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at the ground so Mrs. Weasley couldn't see how uncomfortable he was getting. Although she knew a good chunk of his past, it didn't mean that he was entirely comfortable talking about it.

"Before Sirius," he said quietly, "I might have had some fame that I didn't understand since I didn't grow up in the magical world, but I didn't really have much else. I didn't even have a guardian who gave a fig about whether I lived or died."

He looked up and saw Molly staring at him sadly, but he pushed himself to go on.

"At school, they still celebrate Halloween as the day that I vanquished the Dark Lord," he spat out hatefully. "An no one seems to think about or even care that it's also the day I lost my parents."

Molly squeezed him tighter and it was all he could do to not turn away, as the pitying look in her eyes was making him decidedly uncomfortable.

"But Ron's always really good about treating me like a normal person, without all the weirdness that most people have around me," Harry said fondly. "He knew my relatives were horrible, but he never told any of the other students at Hogwarts that my life at home was awful. He kept my secrets. But he also cared enough to come and rescue me when they had me locked up and starved. He got me to your home and you all looked out for me when my own relatives wouldn't."

There was a murderous look in Molly's eyes now that would have been a bit frightening if Harry didn't know that it wasn't directed at him. It was no wonder that her children feared her just a little.

"And when I told him that I was leaving school," Harry continued, "he didn't even hesitate to come with me. Even though I know he loves Hogwarts too."

Molly smiled a little at that, and Harry knew that while she wasn't a fan of the plan in the beginning she was proud of Ron for sticking by his friends.

"Ron really loves you, Mrs. Weasley," he said to her with a soft smile. "He's told me more than once that one of the best things about leaving Hogwarts is how much time he gets to spend with you and Mr. Weasley by himself."

Molly looked stricken at that little revelation, and Harry couldn't help wondering if she'd never really realized just how badly her youngest son needed more attention from his parents than he usually got from them. Not because they loved him any less. Just because there weren't enough hours in the day to fuss over each member of a family that large.

"What I'm trying to say," Harry sighed in exasperation when she didn't say anything, "is that I already consider you all family anyway and I always will. But Ron has to share you with six brothers and sisters as it is. I just don't think he should have to worry about having to share you with me too."

A sharp gasp came out of Molly's mouth as she lifted a hand to cover it, and Harry felt bad as he watched the realization wash over her face. It couldn't be easy to be Mum to such a big and noisy brood like the Weasley children. And maybe now that Harry had come out and told her that Ron needed a bit more of her time and care than he'd been getting, she'd make an even bigger effort to give it to him while the rest of her kids were still away at school.

Deciding that now was the time to present her with his token of affection, he held up the slightly mangled box, squinting at its rumpled appearance when it had looked so pretty earlier, and gave her his best smile.

"I want you to have this," he said, pushing it a little closer into her hand. "Papa took me to visit my family vault yesterday while we were in London and we went through some of my grandmother's jewelry boxes until I found something I thought you might like."

Wiping at her eyes with her free hand, Molly smiled at him and carefully tore at the wrapping paper before unveiling a small black box. She opened it and gasped when she saw what it contained. Inside, laying on a silk cushion, was an exquisite brooch wrought in platinum with a row of fine diamonds encircling a magnificent opal.

"It originally belonged to Ursula Black," Harry explained, pointing out the delicately engraved UB etched on the back. "I'm still a little iffy on the family tree, but I think she was great-grandmother to both my Dad and Mr. Weasley?"

Nodding briskly, Molly sniffed as she took the ornate piece of jewelry in her hand and admired it.

"So she was my great-great-grandmother and apparently my Papa's great-great-grandmother too, but through a different branch," the boy chuckled as he shook his head, recalling the complicated relationships of the family tree. "Our family is weird."

That made Molly laugh as well, and Harry felt better for having cheered her up a bit, which was what his goal had been in the first place.

"Papa said that it's goblin-made," he continued, "so it would make a good heirloom, and seeing as how it's from Mr. Weasley's family too, I think it's only right that your family should have it. Especially since Ron mentioned once that the opal is your birthstone, so I kind of thought it was perfect."

"Oh, Harry," Molly gushed as she took his hand in hers again, "what a thoughtful boy you are. Really. I'm overwhelmed that you went to so much trouble for me."

She wasn't about to say anything bitter or unkind about her husband's maternal family in front of Harry. Not when he was about to be adopted into the Black family and the boy already had too much to be getting on with as far as relations were concerned.

But it had always been a sore spot for Molly, on her husband's and childrens' behalf, that the share of the Black family wealth which should have been passed down the line to Arthur through his own mother Cedrella, had instead been split between her sisters Callidora and Charis.

Cedrella Black had committed the crime of falling in love with and marrying the Muggle-loving Septimus Weasley and had thus been summarily disowned by the pure-blood fanatical Blacks. Effectively cutting her off from any of the family's immense wealth, which would have made married life for the young couple and their descendants going forward significantly easier.

Molly had always adored her father-in-law. As good of a man as her own Arthur. As far as she was concerned, it was the Blacks' loss to not accept him because of their bigotry.

But it also meant that there had never been anything of value to hand down the family line to the Weasley children.

Until now.

The brooch she held in her hand, besides being gorgeous in its design, was worth a small fortune as all goblin-made pieces were.

"It was no trouble," Harry assured her as he felt his cheeks grow warm. "I hope you like it, and maybe you'll wear it to the adoption ceremony?"

Molly wrapped her soft arms around Harry and gave him a crushing hug. This boy. This sweet, sweet boy who had been through so much in his young life and still managed to retain a generous spirit and a limitless amount of compassion and decency, irregardless of having been raised by such awful people.

"It would be my honor."

Harry beamed as she pulled back to take his face between her hands and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek. An enormous sense of relief was flowing through him that fences between them seemed well on the mend.

"I..uh...better get going," he said as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck once he was released from her grip. "I don't want to get another detention for being late to my second class as well."

He was teasing, of course. His father had already said he could be late. But all that serious talk had him feeling just a bit uncomfortable now that it was all over, and he really wanted to just get to Ancient Runes and forget about the unpleasantness of the morning.

"Well," Molly cooed as she reached up to pat his cheek. "Why don't we just forget your Saturday detention, alright? I know it won't happen again."

"No, that's okay, Professor Weasley." Harry shook his head and signaled the change in the conversation by reverting to her school title. "I was being a prat earlier and Papa was right to reprimand me for my attitude. He...uh...even gave me a few smacks for my language. I'm sorry I said those words in front of you."

Harry blushed furiously at the admission, but he figured that it would score points with Mrs. Weasley for both himself and his father if she was satisfied that his behavior had been appropriately dealt with. Her nod of approval at his words confirmed it.

"So he'll be cross if I don't sit an assigned detention, even if you did offer to cancel it. Besides," he said with a little shrug, "Ron's not going to mind if I spend a couple of hours with you if there are chores involved."

He smiled at her and then grabbed his school bag and turned to go. Just as he was about to exit the room, Molly called out to him to wait.

"Harry dear," she said softly, "I know that Sirius and I have our disagreements, but I really do think he's doing a marvelous job as your father."

Her words made the boy grin a mile wide as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder.

"I think so too," he agreed happily. "And I'm sure he'd love to hear that from you as well."

Properly chastened by the subtle reminder that she wasn't always necessarily kind to Sirius, Molly nodded and returned Harry's farewell wave as he turned to make his way back up to the house.

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

He heard Harry before he saw him.

In the quiet of the house, the boy's soft footfalls, bare feet lightly slapping on the cold marble, echoed through the hallway as his son made his way towards the first floor sitting room that Sirius had more or less claimed for himself.

He'd gotten into the habit recently of spending some time curled up in front of the fire and reading a book for an hour or two once the children were in bed for the night. It was a way to wind down after a long day of classes and lesson plans and training sessions with his son. Occasionally, Remus would join him for a nightcap, but more often than not, Sirius would have some time alone to put his feet up and lose himself in a piece of classic literature.

Of course there were comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace in both his office and in his master suite. But his office made him think about work and his suite made him think about the sleep he desperately needed, so he'd settled on a neutral space where he could just relax.

Sirius remembered this room well from his childhood visits to Celestial Court. On several occasions he'd been invited in to enjoy a book while his Uncle Alphard smoked a pipe and read heavy tomes.

As a boy it had never occurred to him that no one else ever used the room besides the two of them. But, older and wiser now, he suspected it had been a favorite place of his Uncle Alphard that the rest of the Blacks had no free access to. Somewhere he could escape the shrill voice of Walburga as she chased her younger brother around the chateau and berated him for his more relaxed opinions on the place of the Black family in wizarding society.

Because after he and Harry had taken up residence, Sirius had quickly found out that the room itself had been magically locked to anyone but Alphard until Sirius became master of the house.

Not that he was surprised that Alphard had needed an undetectable room in his own home. It had never gone over well with Sirius' mother that her only brother refused to marry and father more pure-blooded children. A true failing in the eyes of every single minded member of the Black family. Any escape from her caterwauling would have been most welcome.

Sirius could understand the desire to get as far away from Walburga as possible and, looking back now, he realized that it was likely Alphard's way of giving Sirius shelter from his abusive parents as much as possible. Orion always bullied Alphard something fiercely, especially when it came to how Sirius was to be treated. But Alphard was still a Black, if a quiet one, and he'd done as much for his poor nephew as he could.

Tucked away in a back corner of the first floor, the sitting room was casually furnished with two overstuffed love seats with a double ottoman between them that Sirius currently had his feet propped up on as he read The Hound of the Baskervilles for the umpteenth time and sipped a snifter of brandy. He, like Uncle Alphard, had a weakness for Muggle mystery thrillers and there was just something about a novel including a supposedly frightening supernatural canine that tickled Sirius' funny bone.

That was where Harry found him as the boy crept quietly into the room and wordlessly dropped down next to him on the brown leather loveseat. Sirius didn't look up from his book as he slid his feet over a few inches so his son could prop up his own.

"You're supposed to be in bed, young man," Sirius scolded without heat, his eyes never leaving the book as he turned a page before taking a sip of his drink.

Harry sighed and snuggled a little closer, his arms crossed over his chest and his hair askew and even messier than usual, denoting time already spent tossing and turning.

"I can't sleep. Can I sit here with you for a bit?"

"Sure you can."

Sirius put his glass down on the side table and marked his page, closing the book and turning to give his son his full attention. The boy's face was a little more pale than Sirius liked to see it, the green eyes pinched in thought as Harry absently tugged at the cuffs of the long sleeved sleep shirt he was wearing.

"What's going on with you, kiddo?" Sirius asked softly, his silver eyes steeped in concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need a potion?"

Harry sighed deeply as he shook his head, surreptitiously nudging a foot next to his father's and silently comparing them in size. Sirius' right foot, clad in a black, silk trouser sock, was still a good two inches longer than the bare toes of Harry's left. The boy frowned as he lamented his diminutive size and pursed his lips, trying to remind himself that Sirius insisted that he wasn't much smaller than his Dad had been at the same age.

But sometimes the wait to grow was hard considering that Ron was very visibly getting taller every single day.

"No. I'm not sick or anything," Harry assured his father, knowing the man would worry. "Just can't get my head to be quiet."

Sirius hummed sympathetically, well familiar with the cacophony of nighttime troubles that seemed to increase in volume just when you were trying most to sleep. He lifted his arm to invite his son to cuddle underneath it, which Harry did immediately as his father leaned over to brush a quick kiss on the wild bed tangles.

"Well, it's no wonder," he teased, trying to make his boy smile a little. "I don't know about you, but Nymphadora's constant chattering all through dinner is still ringing in my ears.

Harry snickered, as his father hoped he would. Andromeda's daughter had no apparent verbal filter at all, if the way she rattled on and on at the table was anything to go by.

"Yeah," the boy said with a grimace. "Especially with Remus. I don't think she let him get a word in all night."

"I think you're right," Sirius agreed, thoroughly amused by his young cousin's obvious flirting.

The rather forward metamorphmagus had waltzed into the parlor where pre-dinner drinks were being served and gone directly over to barge in on the conversation Hestia and Remus were having. With an opening greeting of 'So are you really a werewolf?' she'd commandeered the older man for the rest of the evening.

Sirius would be sure to tease Remus something awful about it tomorrow.

Harry was quiet for a moment, just looking around the room curiously as he lay contentedly against his father's side before glancing at Sirius' discarded book.

"So what are you reading?"

Sirius picked up the nicely tooled volume and handed it to his son so Harry could see the title etched in fine gold against the black leather cover.

"The Hound of the Baskervilles. Have you heard of it?"

Harry began paging through it as he nodded and silently wondered if he should ask to borrow it sometime. There were still things around the house that he wasn't allowed to handle, just in case of an undetectable curse.

"Yeah. I like the Sherlock Holmes stories," he said as he handed it back to his father. "There's a show on the telly about them that Aunt Petunia likes to watch. Sometimes, if Uncle Vernon was traveling for work, and I hadn't made her cross and promised to be very quiet, I was allowed to join her."

Sirius fought the urge to swear colorfully, as it would have been monstrously hypocritical of him to do so after swatting Harry for it earlier in the day. But it was difficult considering just how much he hated those people.

Little boys were meant to be noisy and playful, not commanded to silence or hidden away in hall cupboards. Even the mausoleum that was Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had a playroom on the top floor. A place where he and Regulus were allowed to laugh and roughhouse together, far away from Orion's sight and Walburga's sharp tongue.

"Well, we have the whole collection here, I believe," he said instead, waving his hand towards the second shelf of the bookcase nearest the door. "Uncle Alphard was a very avid reader and I think he would've loved to have you enjoy his books too."

Harry looked up at him and smiled and then snuggled a little closer. It didn't really take much at all to make his son happy, and that simple fact made Sirius all the more sad.

"I noticed that you talked to Andromeda for a little while we were having cake," he remarked as casually as he could. "And since there were no explosions or pieces of Victoria Sponge thrown about the room, can I assume that it wasn't entirely horrible?"

"She's okay, I suppose." Harry shrugged and unconsciously folded his arms across his chest again. "She was telling me about my grandmother's brother who was disowned for being a squib. I guess she's been exchanging letters with him recently?"

"Great-Uncle Marius," Sirius nodded. "I never met him. We weren't even allowed to say his name when I was a boy, so I'm glad someone from our family finally reached out to him. Really, I should do the same, now that I'm the head of it."

Harry hummed and absently knocked his foot against his father's while Sirius idly began composing an introductory letter in his head.

"Is it really that big of a deal? Being head of the family? Are there lots of weird responsibilities and rules?"

Chuckling, Sirius turned a bit so he could see Harry's face. He wanted to know if the question was just simple curiosity or if it was something that his son was genuinely concerned about.

"Not incredibly. There's an element of social understanding between the pure-blood families that dictates their traditions and public behaviors, and a sort of hierarchy when it comes to how certain matters between Houses are treated in the Wizengamot, but nothing actually set in law."

"Tonks seems to think so," Harry retorted, his forehead wrinkled in thought. "She said Lucius Malfoy was furious that you'd been exonerated and had taken over as head of the family."

"Yes, well, Lucius is a power hungry worm," Sirius spat out in disgust. "I'm sure my freedom caused quite the ruckus over at Malfoy Manor since they all thought I'd die in prison. With Bellatrix childless and Andromeda and the rest of the branches disowned somewhere along the way, it was expected that Draco would inherit the bulk of the Black estate."

Sirius frowned as he reached for his glass and took another sip. This was rather a heavy conversation for so late at night, but it was probably best that he and Harry start talking about it since it would affect his son sooner rather than later once Harry was officially adopted.

"Is this what has you so distracted lately that you're not sleeping?"

Looking down at the boy worriedly, Sirius was glad to see Harry shake his head, but it also didn't solve the problem of his son's restless nights.

"No. I just wondered," Harry said as he looked hopefully at the snifter.

Cocking an eyebrow, Sirius regarded his son skeptically, since he didn't think Harry would enjoy such a strong spirit, but he handed it over just the same. He didn't mind if the boy tried things at home where Harry could figure out what he liked and didn't like without being pressured by his peers to do something reckless.

An experience that both Sirius and James had more than their fair share of.

"Small sip," he warned sternly. "You probably won't care for it, which is fine since you're definitely not old enough for more than a taste."

Harry brought the snifter up and took a quick whiff before sipping at the caramel colored liquid. He swallowed, feeling pinpricks of fire burst on his tongue, and he wrinkled his nose when the drink wasn't as sweet as the scent led him to believe. Sputtering a little, he shook his head and handed the glass back to his smirking father.

"Told you so," Sirius laughed, reaching up to tousle the boy's messy hair affectionately.

'It's not as bad as firewhisky," Harry protested, shifting out from underneath his father's arm so he was wedged into the corner of the sofa. "But I prefer wine."

Sirius reached over and drew the boy's feet into his lap, playfully tugging at the bare toes because he knew how ticklish Harry was.

"Well, you might change your mind when you get older like I did," he said and then frowned as he rubbed his hands against the cold skin of his son's feet. "Why aren't you wearing socks or slippers? Your toes are like ice, little one."

With a flick of his wand Sirius summoned a blanket that he draped over his son's torso and legs as Harry burrowed further into the plush cushions.

"I guess I wasn't thinking about it."

The tired but obviously distracted boy leaned his head against the back of the sofa as Sirius assessed him worriedly. Harry wore his troubles in the dark circles around his eyes and the clingy way he'd been constantly touching Sirius in some way since his arrival. Wordlessly seeking comfort with a physical connection without actually coming out and asking for it was not necessarily entirely out of character for his son, but it definitely wasn't the norm.

Clearly Harry had something pretty important going on inside that head of his, and it was long past time that Sirius found out exactly what it was that troubled his child so badly.

"Do you think you're finally ready to talk about why you haven't been sleeping lately?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, his eyes downcast as he began to nervously pick at the hem of the blanket covering him. "I don't want you to be cross with me.'

Now Sirius was really starting to get worried. He couldn't imagine what Harry was doing at night that would make Sirius angry, but felt fairly confident that it probably wasn't anything good.

"Why would I be cross with you?" he asked, reaching out to take Harry's fidgety hand into his own before the fabric started to unravel. Not that Sirius cared about the blanket itself, but he sensed that his boy needed the support.

Harry stared up at him, his young face awash in worry like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he wordlessly begged for understanding. Seeing how upset his son really was, Sirius nodded and squeezed his hand, silently assuring his child that he'd hear Harry out calmly, no matter what he had to say.

He wasn't prepared for the answer.

"It's about my Dad."

And, just like that, a pang of dread hit Sirius in the stomach as surely as if he'd been punched. As they'd gotten closer and closer to the day of the adoption, a part of him had been quietly waiting in fear of the moment that Harry decided that he didn't want to go through with it after all.

His insecurities rising to the forefront, Sirius steeled himself for rejection and knew that he couldn't let Harry see how shaken he was on the inside. Not when the boy was clearly struggling so badly already. In the end, all that mattered was that Harry was comfortable and happy with whatever their relationship was.

With the official adoption at the Ministry, Sirius was basically asking him to give up another link to the very good man who had fathered and died for him, and that wasn't really fair, was it?

He himself felt the guilty weight of that decision a hundred times a day, even if he'd begun to allow himself to dream about the prospect of being able to claim Harry as his child in every way.

Swallowing hard and fighting even harder to not let his fear show, his heart beating wildly in his chest, the worried man rallied himself enough to give Harry's hand a squeeze of comfort and ignored his own pain.

"About the adoption?" he asked calmly. "You want to change your mind because of what it would mean for James. Because I'd understand if that were the case, and I promise I won't be at all cross."

And he wouldn't be, because Sirius didn't need a roll of parchment to think of Harry as his son.

"No," Harry firmly shook his head. "I don't. I'm pretty excited about it, actually."

Oh

"Well," Sirius nodded with small smile, "Good. Because I am too."

Harry's face scrunched up into a frown as he shook his head again and he eased his hand out of Sirius' to fold both of his into his lap as he averted his eyes.

"But that's the problem," he said quietly. "You shouldn't be, because I'm a bad son."

Shock at the boy's words had Sirius physically taken aback, since nothing could be further from the truth. Harry was a son that any man would be proud to call his own, and why he thought differently, Sirius didn't know.

"You're certainly not a bad son," he protested fiercely. "Why, in Merlin's name, would you ever say such a silly thing?"

Harry stared intently at his twisting fingers and was unable to look at Sirius' face where he expected to see nothing but disappointment in his father's eyes. He knew that he had to come clean before the ritual took place. It was only fair to his Papa to understand what an awful boy he was adopting before it was too late.

"Because...because I hated my Dad for a long time," he confessed in a quivering voice as a tear slipped down his cheek. "He died for me, and I hated him."

Against his will, Sirius felt himself draw in a sharp breath. He knew instantly that Harry heard him as well when the boy flinched and seemed to curl up into himself a little more. He felt bad immediately over his lack of control, knowing that his child needed support right now more than anything.

Especially as he sincerely doubted that Harry had actually ever truly hated James.

Harry didn't even know James, and hate was an extremely strong emotion to feel about a relative stranger.

Reaching out, he took Harry's hand back into his own and rubbed a comforting thumb over the tense knuckles.

"Can you tell me what made you feel that way?"

Comforted by the sign that Sirius wasn't casting him off just yet, Harry forced himself to look up and saw his father's obvious concern written all over his face. The boy couldn't help but wonder to himself if that would remain the same once Harry confessed all.

"When I was really little," he began, his words drawn out slowly as he remembered back to his early childhood, "I used to ask why I didn't have a Mum and a Dad. Whenever I was brave enough, that is. Questions weren't really encouraged in our house."

Harry stopped to huff derisively as he heard himself understate just how much his curiosity had been stifled at the Dursleys, and Sirius responded by giving his captive hand a little squeeze of affection.

"They usually just ignored me," he continued, shrugging as if it didn't matter, "but one time Aunt Petunia finally got tired of me asking and she told me that my parents died in a car crash. That they crashed because my Dad was a good-for-nothing drunk who'd caused the accident, and that my Mum died and I got my scar because of him. Then Uncle Vernon said that the reason Dudley didn't play with me was because I was a no-good waste of space just like my father. So...I hated him."

Sirius stiffened. The urge to sick up was overwhelming, and the fact that his son needed him right now to be calm and not completely hysterical and murderous was the only thing that kept him on that couch and not apparating over to Privet Drive to kill those monsters in their sleep. His arms itched to hug his abused child and he held them out and urgently beckoned Harry over to him.

"Come here. Now."

With just the slightest hesitation, Harry moved into Sirius' embrace and, having finally admitted his deepest shame out loud, the boy simply fell apart as his father hugged him close.

"I hated him," Harry repeated tearfully as he clung to Sirius' shirt. "Because he'd killed my mother and left me behind to live with these terrible people and...I hated him for that."

Sirius' heart was breaking as he tried to soothe his despondent kid. In his arms, Harry sobbed loudly and deeply. The heavy cathartic release of acknowledging all the guilt and grief he'd been bottling up inside ever since he'd found out the truth about James was enough to make the boy physically shake from the flood of emotions washing over him.

"That's not your fault, little one," Sirius whispered into Harry's messy hair as he rocked him. "You were only reacting to what you'd been told. That doesn't make you a bad son."

Harry sputtered out another sob against his father's chest and he grabbed at Sirius' shirt desperately, as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping him grounded in the moment. There was real absolution in the words being spoken to him, but Harry wasn't quite ready to accept them.

"It's not just that," he blubbered miserably as he shook his head. "Even once I got to school and found out the truth, there was still a large part of me that was angry with him. And now, with the adoption, which I really, really want, I feel like I'm throwing him away like rubbish."

"Okay," Sirius hushed his worked-up kid, kissing Harry's head and holding him close. "Okay. Let's just take a moment and calm down a bit, hmm?"

He felt Harry nod against him, the boy's tears soaking through his silk shirt, and Sirius took a few deep cleansing breaths of his own as he tried to figure out a way to make this all better for his poor boy who was clearly drowning in anguish. Especially since Sirius felt like that himself.

For a few minutes the only sounds in the room were Harry's soft sniffles as Sirius cuddled him and stroked his hair. It couldn't have been easy on the boy to keep these thoughts bottled up inside of him where they would have festered like an infected wound. Having spent over a decade mentally flagellating himself, Sirius knew very well what misplaced guilt and pain did to a person's psyche, and he positively hated that Harry's opinion of his Dad had been twisted and warped by bitter, petty little people who weren't even worthy of kissing James' robe.

They sat together in each other's arms, just drawing comfort from one another and, after a fashion, Harry let out a shuddering breath and let go of Sirius' shirt to reach up to wipe at his eyes. Sensing that the worst of it was over, Sirius decided that it was probably safe to continue the conversation. He pushed Harry back very gently to size him up and then conjured a glass and some water.

"Here," he said, pushing it into his son's hand, "Drink this. Your poor throat is probably sore."

Harry took the glass and sipped at it as he hiccuped a little. He felt raw, exposed, and when his eyes skipped over to his father he noticed a large wet patch on Sirius' chest where Harry's tears had soaked right through. The boy's face flushed an even deeper red than it had been and he was terribly embarrassed to have been so weak and needy.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. Sirius had been right about the throat. "I got your shirt all wet."

The concerned father shook his head as he reached out and used his thumb to wipe away another stray tear trickling down his son's cheek.

"Never mind the shirt, silly boy," he said softly as Harry leaned into his touch. "I'm sorry about your tears."

Harry gave him a sad little smile before taking another sip from his glass. A part of him had been very worried that Sirius, who was fiercely defensive about James, would think less of his son once Harry admitted to harboring such mean thoughts about his Dad. Being treated with the same care and affection that he always was gave him the courage to share the rest.

"When I got to school," he continued, "suddenly I was the son of this great hero, and it seemed that everyone but me knew all about my Dad. It was nice at first, wonderful in fact, to feel proud that my father was a good guy instead of the drunk I'd always been told he was."

"He was a very good guy," Sirius agreed. "A good man. A good friend and a really good Dad."

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. "I know that. Now. And I felt worse than awful about all the terrible things I'd always thought about him. Really, I did."

He finished the last of his water and set the empty glass down on the floor next to him and then pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"But even after I learned the truth," Harry continued, casting his eyes down shamefully, "about what he'd done for me, there was still a part of me that was angry that he died. And I know it wasn't fair to him or logical to feel that way, but I did. I mean, how could I be mad at him for dying?"

"There's nothing odd about that," Sirius rushed to assure his son. "People often find themselves being angry at a person for dying. Even if it doesn't make sense. It's just a part of grief."

Harry looked up at him, desperately wanting to believe his words. For so long he'd hidden this awful secret away inside of him, and knowing that he wasn't alone in feeling that way would go far in healing some very old wounds.

"You don't think it makes me a bad person?"

"No," Sirius shook his head and put his hand over his son's. "Not at all. Unless you think I am as well. Because there have been times when I felt so mad at James for dying that I practically choked on it. When really, I just missed him so horribly that I needed to blame someone for him being gone. Usually I blamed myself, but when the pain of knowing that I'd failed him got to be too much, I blamed him for trusting me."

"It wasn't your fault, Papa," Harry said firmly, knowing that Sirius needed to hear it. "You're not to blame for any of it."

Sirius smiled sadly. He didn't agree with his son, but Harry didn't need the additional burden of Sirius' messed up baggage added to what he was already dealing with, so he held his tongue.

"Well, I know one thing for sure," he said instead, gazing at his son fondly. "I knew James better than anyone on Earth, with the exception of your Mum. And I know that he would be so incredibly proud of you."

Harry looked up at him hopefully, the desperation to believe those words clearly showing on his face.

"Really?"

"Really," Sirius nodded as he held out his arms again.

Harry dove back in to his father's embrace. Emotionally spent and mentally wrung out, the two wizards sat in companionable silence as they listened to the logs pop in the fireplace. Both of them processing such a serious and emotional talk.

"I've been going into the memories you gave me," Harry finally admitted, once the quiet of the room got to be too much. "That's why I haven't been sleeping well."

Sirius frowned at the idea that his little gift had been the reason his son's slumber was troubled. He'd chosen them very carefully, always making sure that they were pleasant ones that specifically included James and Harry together. Just because Harry didn't remember his Dad, it didn't mean that he couldn't see how they'd been together before the tragedy.

"Those memories were meant to be a happy thing for you."

"They do make me happy," Harry assured him quickly, "but when they're over, I just feel this incredible sadness that I can't stay."

And that was true enough, because that was how Sirius felt as well. As much as he loved his life with Harry now, the desire to step back in time to when his circle of friends was intact and happy often left him aching with longing.

"I understand."

"But I think," Harry muttered quietly, anxious to not hurt his father's feelings, "maybe I shouldn't look at them anymore. Or at least not all the time. Because they might be real memories, but they're not really real, are they?"

"I think maybe that's a good idea for awhile," Sirius agreed, giving Harry a squeeze in comfort. "And I should probably join you when you do look at them from now on. We'll do it together. Okay?"

Knowing how his father felt about the pensieve, Harry nodded gratefully. He had a feeling that coming out of the memories wouldn't be so hard if he wasn't alone when he did.

Harry pulled away to sit up a little. He felt quite a bit foolish for his breakdown, but more than that he felt relieved for having gotten it all off his chest. He also felt a bit silly for ever having doubted that Sirius would understand what he'd been going through.

"I do like them, though," he said sheepishly, his cheeks going a little pink. "Especially the one where Dad's reading me a story and you threatened to tell Mum he was teaching me to be an animagus."

"Babbity Rabbity," Sirius nodded, recognizing the reference. "That was always a favorite at bedtime. All magical children grow up reading it. I think we even have a copy in here somewhere."

"They would read to Dudley every night," Harry confessed, his voice tinged in melancholy, "but not me. Although I was the one that liked books. I guess, I just like the idea that I got read to sleep too when I was really little."

Another sharp pain hit Sirius in the gut, but with Harry sitting next to him looking so young and fragile he pushed it back down before he said something he might regret. The boy certainly didn't need to hear more of Sirius' opinions on what utter filth Lily's sister and her husband were when Harry was already struggling.

Instead, he gave a quick glance around the room and frowned when he didn't immediately see what he was looking for.

"Accio Tales of Beedle the Bard!"

A second later a large colorful book squeezed itself out from between two larger ones and then hurtled across the room and into Sirius' waiting hand. A big grin spread across Harry's face when he recognized the cover as the same one that his father held in the memory.

"You absolutely refused to sleep until James had read one of these stories to you," Sirius chuckled as he let Harry take the book to page through. "Didn't matter how tired you were. Unless there was story time, you howled like a banshee in your cot until your Dad pulled the book out."

Harry smiled as he reverently flipped through the pages. Of course he knew that this wasn't the exact book that his Dad had read from, but it looked exactly the same and made him feel just a little bit closer to James.

"He really loved me, didn't he?"

Sirius nodded, lifting his arm so Harry could scoot back under. He didn't want his son to see him cry.

"Yes. He really did."

"I love him too."

Harry looked up at him, anxious that Sirius understand what he was trying to say. That loving James didn't mean that Harry loved Sirius any less.

"I know you do." Sirius gave the boy a squeeze, nodding. "He knows it too."

He leaned down to drop a kiss on the messy head. Feeling quite a bit more tired now that he'd unburdened himself, Harry shifted so he was leaning against his father's solid and comforting form, his head moving to rest on Sirius' shoulder.

"Some people saw him as a villain," the boy said quietly, "and some people saw him as a hero. I just see him as my Dad. I always will, no matter what."

Sirius choked up a little at his son's words, and loving James as much as he did, he found that he didn't feel threatened by them. Because Harry had a big enough heart for both of them.

"James was a lot of things," he answered as he gently lay his own head against his son's, "but being your Dad was what he did best."

"We won't forget about him," Harry vowed. "No matter what."

"Never."

Nodding, Harry let himself soak in a little more comfort before letting out a deep sigh.

"I should probably head back to bed."

Sirius hummed and just held him close for another few seconds. In no hurry to lose the company of the boy, no matter how late it was. Looking down at the book on his lap, he suddenly had a wild idea.

"You should. But first we need to do something."

He sat up a little straighter and picked the book up in his free hand and rifled through the pages until he found the one he wanted.

"Since you haven't been sleeping well lately, I think this calls for a little Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump."

"I know I've been bawling like a baby, Papa, but I'm a little bit too old for bedtime stories," Harry protested, shaking his head in amusement at his father's silliness. "Don't you think?"

He meant it as a tease, as he assumed Sirius meant about the offer. Just a little bit of fun to make each other smile after what had been a pretty intense conversation. But to Harry's enormous surprise, Sirius didn't give him the smirk that he was expecting and instead pulled back to look at his son intently.

"Don't be in a rush to grow up, Harry," Sirius advised sadly. "Your childhood, what's left of it anyway, is a precious gift that you'll never get back once you throw it away. Adulthood and all the responsibilities it brings will come far sooner than you think. Enjoy being young while you still can, and let your Papa take care of you for just a bit longer?"

Reaching out, Sirius tenderly pushed Harry's hair away from his face and stroked an affectionate thumb across the boy's cheek and Harry unconsciously leaned into his touch, perhaps still feeling a bit more needy than he thought.

Sirius looked so forlorn at the prospect of Harry growing up that the boy couldn't help feeling badly for him. In some ways it was comforting to know that his father didn't expect him to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. That it was even alright if Harry needed just a little bit more care on occasion.

Although Harry didn't necessarily want to be treated like a child at his age, he didn't always really want to be treated like an adult either. And Sirius was right. There had been plenty of times growing up when he'd watched his aunt and uncle dote and fuss over Dudley, leaving Harry abandoned and alone in his cupboard. Daring a peek through a slightly cracked door as he silently watched the happy family and wished he were allowed to join them.

It would be nice to be fussed over and doted on like Dudley had been, even if Harry wasn't small anymore.

"Okay, Papa."

Harry shifted so he was tucked firmly under Sirius' arm again as the older wizard beamed and held the book in front of them. While his son squirmed a bit to get more comfortable, drawing the warm blanket up to his chin as he nestled his head against Sirius' chest, Sirius cleared his throat and thought of all the times he'd watched James do this.

"Babbitty Rabbity and the Cackling Stump," he began in a clear voice. "A long time ago, in a far off land, there lived a foolish king who decided that he alone should have the power of magic..."

For fifteen happy minutes, Sirius quietly read the tale of the clever witch who used her animagus talent to fool a king and get protection for her fellow witches and wizards.

And by the time he was done, Harry was fast asleep.

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

Sirius chose March twenty-first as the day for Harry's adoption.

As the start of the vernal equinox, when magic herself underwent a period of rebirth and renewal, he felt it was an especially significant day for the rebirth of his own little family.

A blessed room inside the Ministry had been reserved for the ritual, and it had been decided that the ceremony itself would be conducted by Arthur as a way to specifically include the Weasleys in the proceedings since Harry still felt unhappy about not giving them a special role. Ministry guidelines only required that a department head be the officiant, and although Arthur's department was very much the tiniest in the directory, he was still the head of it and therefore qualified.

Arthur, perhaps also having been feeling a bit put out by not being tapped as a godparent, was now fairly chuffed to be performing such an important part in Harry's big day. For safety reasons, he of course couldn't speak of it openly at work just yet, but once it was all done and dusted there was no doubt that he'd be recounting the event in great detail around the office for some time to come.

At the moment he was busy overseeing the application of runic etchings that surrounded the dais where the ceremony would take place. It would be catastrophic if the symbol for joy was accidentally written upside down so that it promised difficulty instead, and since Sirius and Harry had enough to worry about, Arthur was going to make sure that everything was perfect.

Meanwhile, at Celestial Court, Andromeda and Hestia, already firmly settled in their roles as the new godmothers, had both bustled over to the chateau first thing in the morning.

In typical Black fashion, Andromeda more or less took over in organizing everything they would be taking with them for the trip to the Ministry. Fastidious and efficient by nature, she'd immediately corralled her younger cousin in order to go over an actual checklist with Sirius, reminding him of things that he didn't really need to be reminded of and giving him a headache in the process.

Not wanting to get caught in that particular crossfire, Hestia wisely ducked out to head up to Harry's room to check on her new godson and fuss over his new dress robes and fruitlessly attempt to tame his misbehaved head of hair.

There was a celebratory air of excitement around the manor, with the house elves busily preparing decorations and an after ritual feast for the family and friends, as well as all the noise of everyone running about and getting ready. Already dressed in his most elegant robes, Sirius had finally managed to escape Andromeda's clutches and was now walking through the first floor rooms to supervise, as he wanted everything in order before they left for the Ministry.

But even his normally calm composure couldn't completely stifle the goofy grin that kept breaking out on his face.

After being hit in the face by a miniature cream cake that Sirius sent hurtling at his best friend at wandpoint, Remus wisely stopped teasing him about it.

Of course any family gathering is not without its drama, and there was a brief moment of awkward tension when Molly showed up with half a dozen treacle tarts in tow for the buffet table where she ran directly into Andromeda who was busy shooing Neville and Ron away from the food with orders to go get properly dressed and ready to leave.

In the aftermath of her conversation with Harry, Molly had accepted the reasons for the choices of godmothers, but that didn't mean she was of a mood to be more than civil with the two women who ended up being tapped for the role. And while Hestia had impressed Molly with her kindness to Harry as well as to her own children with her generosity after the Quidditch match, her regard didn't extend to Andromeda Tonks who reminded her far too much of Arthur's snobbish Black relatives.

Wearing a brand new set of flattering robes for the occasion, superbly tailored in a sophisticated fabric and cut that wasn't the usual style Molly chose to dress in, the Weasley matriarch looked simply splendid. Sirius couldn't help noticing that Molly had pinned the brooch that Harry had given her in pride of place at the base of her throat where it would be easily shown off to its best advantage. It sparkled brilliantly against the deep burgundy of her robes and she made sure to stand in a way that Andromeda couldn't help but see it.

Almost as if Molly was challenging the other woman to say something about her wearing a family heirloom.

The impending squabble had Sirius feeling another monstrous headache begin to develop, and he closed his eyes in frustration for just a second. There was no need for the animosity between the women. Quite the contrary in fact. Considering that both the Weasleys and the Tonkses had been summarily disowned by the same intolerant family, Molly and Andromeda probably had more in common with each other than most.

But the fact was the underlying tension between the two women had the potential to cast a glacial atmosphere around the room which Sirius simply wasn't having today, no matter whose feathers were ruffled.

Everything was going to be absolutely perfect for Harry's adoption. Sirius was going to make sure of it.

"Molly," he said in his most charming voice before any subtle insults could be exchanged, "I'm concerned that the Ministry ritual room won't be ready for us on time. Is there any chance I could persuade you to head over early to join Arthur and make sure that it's all sorted? You'll notice anything that is amiss, unlike some of the lazy staff at the WAS department."

It was the right thing to say on a couple of different levels.

Firstly, Molly appreciated having her attention to detail noticed. Also, as the wife of a Ministry department head, she had plenty of opinions on how the rest of the departments were run and she wasn't ordinarily complimentary about them. Her Arthur was brilliant wizard, but with his soft heart he might not necessarily be blunt enough if the work wasn't being done up to snuff.

Molly beamed from ear to ear and she nodded as she set her tarts down on the nearest table.

"Certainly, Sirius!" she agreed immediately. "I'd be happy to. We want everything sorted for our boy's special day."

The last sentence was directed right at Andromeda who couldn't miss the reminder that Harry was considered one of Molly's brood long before Andromeda entered the picture. Her Black family breeding and genuinely kind nature kept Andromeda from making an uncivil retort to the undeserved censure and she merely smiled at the plump redhead before Molly called out to Ron and Neville, shrilly ordering them into the front parlor so she could take them by side-along to meet Arthur.

"Smooth," Andromeda laughed quietly once she and Sirius were alone. "There's me put in my place."

Sirius chuckled softly before leaning down to give his cousin an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"She certainly isn't subtle," he agreed, "but she's truly fond of Harry and he adores her. He'll be very unhappy if he's kept away from Arthur and Molly if..."

The reminder that Andromeda was being put into a place of ultimate trust today had her sobering immediately with the thought that she was becoming Harry's principle guardian in case something happened to her cousin. After their twelve years of distance, it wasn't something she wanted to think about since she'd just gotten Sirius back into her life.

She reached up to gently squeeze his arm and shook her head.

"I promise, Cousin," she vowed, looking directly into his silver eyes. "I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe and happy, and Remus, Hestia and the Weasleys will always be a part of his life. But could we please not talk about anything bad today? It should be a day of joy."

"You're right," he agreed with a smile. "Of course, you're right.

When Sirius had taken Harry to Gringott's during the week, another one of their stops had been to his own vault to retrieve the ceremonial dagger of the Black family for the adoption ritual. It wasn't strictly necessary per se, but for all of his bucking of his family ideals, there was a large part of Sirius who was drawn to the non-lethal aspects of tradition.

Harry was being formally recognized as his heir today, and all the niceties would be observed.

It was another reason for his insistence that Andromeda stand as godmother.

He and his son had briefly discussed it, but as recognized heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Harry needed to have a firmer understanding of his obligations and the responsibilities that came with the territory of representing a still prominent family with a main line that was swiftly dwindling. The families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight might have found it amusing for Harry Potter to be Sirius' ward, but now that Harry was truly going to be the next head of the Black family, social interactions with him were going to change.

Andromeda may have been cast out of the family under the old regime, but she was raised in the traditional way, and now that she and Sirius had reconnected she could be counted on to help Harry navigate those treacherous waters if the worst were to happen.

"Sirius," Remus called as he came into the formal sitting room and donned his cloak, "Hermione and I are leaving. See you there."

Behind him, Hermione was looking very fetching in a set of deep purple robes, the lightweight pearl and amethyst earrings and matching necklace that Sirius had loaned her from the Black family collection adorning her ears and neck. She was looking just a tad downcast and Sirius couldn't blame her.

While not strictly forbidden, Muggles who were privy to the Statute of Secrecy were generally kept clear of the Ministry itself in all but the most dire of circumstances. So although Hugh and Jean had been invited to the ceremony today, they'd politely declined in favor of not causing a scene and potentially upsetting Harry.

"You look lovely, Hermione," he said, making the girl blush, "and those jewels look perfect on you. Please accept them as a gift from Harry and myself to commemorate the occasion."

"I couldn't possibly," she sputtered. "They belong to your family."

"So do you," Sirius insisted as he gave her a little hug. "You're Harry's sister as far as I'm concerned."

Hermione beamed and the gesture took away a little of the sting about not having her parents with them today. Andromeda nodded approvingly and Remus took Hermione's hand. They both bid farewell and disappeared with a pop! when Remus turned on the spot.

"Dare I ask who those jewels belonged to?" Andromeda inquired with a smirk, once the others were gone.

Sirius snorted and gave his cousin a matter-of-fact look.

"Aunt Lucretia, Nosy Parker. They were a coming of age gift from Grandmother Melania. You didn't think I would let Hermione wear anything from the dangerous side of the family did you?"

Andromeda shrugged innocently, although her eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"I had to check. The Old Sirius might have found it amusing if Hermione's necklace started singing La Marseillaise in the middle of the ceremony."

"The Old Sirius was a prat," her cousin growled with a lifted eyebrow signaling his mild annoyance at her teasing. "The New Sirius is an adult that is quite fond of his son's best friends. Hermione is practically a daughter to me these days. I'd hex anyone who hurt her."

With a soft smile, Andromeda leaned up to give Sirius' cheek an affectionate peck. "I'm happy to see it."

She was saved any more grumbling on her cousin's part by the noisy arrival of the boy of the hour himself. Hestia was ushering a scowling Harry into the parlor with an exasperated look on her face.

"Sirius, your son needs his Papa."

By some miracle, Hestia had tamed Harry's wild locks into submission. For the first time ever, the boy's hair was lying relatively flat and Sirius tried not to be jealous that she'd managed to accomplish what he'd never been able to. But his ego was soothed by the helpless way his son thrust a scrap of black silk at Sirius like it was a cursed object instead of a fashion accessory.

"I can't figure this stupid thing out."

Harry was frazzled and a bit whiny and Sirius couldn't help smiling at how adorable his kid was.

"Here, let me," he instructed the agitated child, reaching out to take the tie and do up the complicated knot that went with Harry's very fancy dress robes.

Andromeda gave them both a serene smile as she stood back and she and Hestia had an unspoken conversion between them. Mutually agreeing to give Sirius and Harry a moment of privacy.

"We'll see you there, Siri," she told her cousin as Hestia pulled on her cloak. "Don't be late."

Rolling his eyes, Sirius nodded, waving her away as he returned his attention to Harry's tie.

Harry obediently stood still as his father assisted him, a grin of happiness peeking out on his face. Inside he was so excited it felt as if he might burst right out of his skin because the big day had finally arrived and he couldn't believe it was happening. He and Sirius had been living, more or less, as father and son for almost ten months.

But today it would be official.

"There," Sirius smiled as he stepped back. "All sorted."

"So how do I look?"

Harry stood up straight, his shoulders back like his Papa had taught him to stand. The finely tailored robes fitted closely and not in the usual loose style of everyday wizarding wear. Harry's face had filled out a little since he'd come to live with Sirius. A healthy pink flush to his cheeks instead of the pale white of a malnourished child. He stood confidently, his shoulders beginning to broaden slightly and, if not for the newly manageable hair and green eyes, he would have been James all over again.

"Like your Dad."

Harry ducked his head, his mouth curling into a shy smile.

"Thanks."

Fighting his emotions, Sirius cleared his throat as he reached into his pocket.

"Speaking of your Dad," he said brightly, holding out his hand so Harry could see what was in it, "I want you to have this."

Glinting in his palm was a gold pendant on an intricately linked gold chain. At Sirius' nod, Harry picked it up and saw a very ornate engraved design on the pendant.

"It's the Potter family crest," Sirius told him, his eyes a bit misty as he looked at with his son. "Your grandparents and your Dad gave this to me when I moved in with them permanently. It was their way of showing me that they considered me one of the family."

Harry smiled as he admired the detail of the crest. The shield was emblazoned with three flowers and there was a rearing griffon on one side of it and a stag on the other. Underneath there was a banner etched with tiny letters.

"Aequalitas enim omnes," Harry read, squinting hard to decipher the minuscule text. "What does that mean?"

"Equality for all."

The sentiment resonated with Harry deeply and he nodded in satisfaction with the ideals of his ancestors.

"I like it."

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

Sirius had requested permission to use the apparition point reserved for the Auror Department, citing the need for Harry's safety.

It wasn't unusual for a high profile visitor to be granted the privilege of a more secure arrival, and as Sirius was a former Auror himself, he was more than familiar with the spot. Located on the second floor of the Ministry where the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was housed, the arrival site was steps away from the ritual chamber adjacent to the Wizengamot Administrative Services office that would be officially recording the adoption.

Although the site was significantly more concealed that the regular visitors' entrance, the bright corridor was still busy with dozens of wizards and witches bustling about their day. Upon their arrival, Sirius put an arm protectively around Harry's shoulders, safeguarding the boy from prying eyes as much as was possible, but the two of them were rather widely known and recognized, so it wasn't unexpected that some people would gawk at them as Sirius guided his son towards the ritual chamber as quickly as he could.

They stopped outside a large wooden double door heavily engraved with a ribbon of runic symbols skirting around the edges. Harry reached out, drawn by the golden glow emanating from the symbols and gently traced them with his fingertips.

"Protection. Harmony. Gift. Patience. Rebirth. Purity. Progress."

"All the elements of a new family," Sirius said approvingly as he smiled down at his son. "So are you ready for this?"

Harry nodded. "More than."

"Then let's go in."

Together they pushed the doors open and stepped inside the warmly lit chamber ringed by torches burning around the entire perimeter. Everyone else was already in place, most of them standing around the ceremonial dais in a loose circle while they held pure white candles emitting small blue flames. Standing on the dais proper, Arthur looked very officious in his plum colored velvet Ministerial robes embroidered with the insignia of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office on the left side of his chest.

Although the chamber's occupants were his family and friends, Harry was a bit in awe of the solemnity of it all and he instinctively leaned in closer to his father as they made their way up to the dais.

Once there, Sirius gently nudged him to a subtly marked groove on the floor before moving to the one opposite. He gave Harry an encouraging nod, that the boy returned affirming that he was doing okay, before looking up at Arthur and signaling that they were ready.

You could tell that Arthur badly wanted to smile at the heart-warming scene in front of him. He cared for both Harry and Sirius greatly, and seeing them officially become part of each other's lives pleased the older man immensely. That he was the one allowed to officiate today tickled him to no end. But this was still a serious business, and Arthur's professionalism prevented him from expressing his happiness as he raised his wand and drew a ring of blue fire around the dais.

With the flames rising up around them, Harry startled a bit, but a slight nod from Sirius had him calming almost immediately. His father had told him that measures were taken inside the ritual room to ensure that the vows being offered inside were magically binding.

"Who comes before this body?"

Arthur's normally soft spoken voice was replaced by a clearly enunciated booming sounded that echoed through the chamber as Sirius turned to face him.

"Sirius Orion Black."

"For what purpose do you come here today?"

Casting a loving glance at Harry, Sirius took a deep breath before turning back to Arthur.

"I come for the blessing of family, and for the right to henceforth claim this child as my son."

"And the name of this child?"

"Harry James Black Potter."

Now Sirius smiled down at his son who was grinning back at him. It was Andromeda who'd come up with the answer to Harry's name problem during their dinner a few days ago. She saw absolutely no reason why Harry couldn't remain a Potter just because he was being adopted into the Black family.

But by taking Black as a second middle name, Harry could honor both of his fathers without the risk of losing his identity. On a regular daily basis he would still be just plain Harry Potter, but when the time came that he was the head of the family, any official parchments could be signed with his full name which clearly denoted his place as a Black.

It was a neat and tidy solution that worked for both Harry and Sirius.

"Sirius Orion Black," Arthur boomed, "are you prepared to make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"I am."

Harry frowned slightly at hearing this.

He and Sirius had discussed the ritual and he knew that as the minor child his role in the ceremony was very small. Not of age in the eyes of the Ministry, Harry couldn't be required to make any vows today. But the fact that Sirius was making a vow that threatened his life if he didn't fulfill it thoroughly didn't sit well with the boy.

Harry trusted Sirius to keep his promises of family to him without the need for a vow, and he didn't particularly like the feeling that his father would now be parenting him with a figurative wand to his head.

Arthur nodded as Sirius stood solemnly while he extracted the ritual dagger from the sheath at his waist. With one smooth motion, Sirius nicked the palm of his hand and a trickle of blood appeared. Knowing what was expected, Harry then held out his own palm and let his father make a small cut there too, letting out a quiet hiss that had Sirius wincing on his behalf.

Once Harry's blood pooled to the surface, Sirius winked at him and the two of them clasped the open wounds together as Arthur approached them with his wand drawn and gently tapped their skin.

"Will you, Sirius Orion Black, accept this boy as your own son?"

"I will."

A thin line of fire erupted from Arthur's wand and slowly wrapped itself around the conjoined hands. Harry looked warily at it snaking its way in the air omimously, but when it fell against his skin, it merely felt pleasantly warm.

"Will you acknowledge him openly and privately as blood of your blood, bone of your bone and flesh of your flesh?"

"I will."

A second line of fire joined the first, crisscrossing over their wrists before settling. Harry began to feel a small itch on the open cut on his palm, but Sirius just nodded again, having obviously expected the sensation.

"Will you swear to be father, guide, protector and teacher to him. Love him, comfort him, provide for him and care for him, from this day to your last day?"

"I will."

The third line of fire burned just a bit more intensely as it wended its way from the tip of Arthur's wand before entwining itself into the other two. As the three merged, they flared in a bright flash, the circle of flames around the dais and the torches along the walls rising with them, for just a brief second before sinking down into Sirius' and Harry's skin.

Harry sucked in a deep breath as the cut on his palm grew warm, and in the blink of any eye, he was hit by a deluge of emotions. He felt surrounded by the deepest love and protection, a feeling like the best hug ever, and somehow there was a part of him that just suddenly knew that what he was experiencing was a manifestation of Sirius' genuine affection for him.

It was the best sensation in the world.

At that moment, all he wanted to do was throw his arms around his father and never let go, but he knew that there was still the second part of the ritual to complete, so he was forced to settle for the gentle squeeze that Sirius gave his hand.

"Sirius Orion Black," Arthur stated with the tiniest smile on his face, "You are henceforth known as the father to this child Harry James Black Potter, by law and by magic. From this day to your last day."

A warm round of applause echoed around them as the others in the room celebrated their new status. Sirius was grinning like a mad man and Harry, his face pink from the attention, ducked his head shyly as he gripped Sirius' hand even tighter.

"And now the godparents."

At Arthur's nod, by prior arrangement, Remus came forward first, waited for a second until the blue flames parted, and them joined them on the dais.

Godparents didn't make Unbreakable Vows. Something which Sirius now felt very badly about. Maybe if he had all those years ago, he might have made better choices for both Harry and himself and things would have turned out very differently.

Still, godparents did make vows, and now that Sirius understood the magnitude of the one he'd sworn to as Harry's godfather, he wanted to make sure that today's vow spelled out their responsibilities to his son perfectly clearly. Part of their dinner the other night had been for the purpose of drafting acceptable wording for today's ritual that had been approved by all four adults sharing in the boy's future.

Drawing his wand from the pocket of his smart dress robes, Remus repeated the motion that Arthur had used to cast the first binding but, instead of a line of fire, a thin jet of gold light issued forth from the wand's tip to land where the others had vanished into Sirius' and Harry's hands. With a warm smile and affection shining in his honey brown eyes, he cleared his throat to make his well-rehearsed vow.

"I, Remus John Lupin, son of Lyall and Hope, brother by choice of James and Sirius, offer myself as godfather to this child, Harry James Black Potter. I pledge my heart to his care and my wand to his safety. I declare my willingness, before all who are congregated here today, to stand as a father to him in the place of James and Sirius should there come a time when I am needed. To always keep them present in our hearts and minds. To love their son as my own son. To protect him from any and all that would bring harm upon him. To be a guide when he feels lost and a comfort when he needs solace. To be a source of knowledge for him of all the Potters that came before him, to the best of my ability. This I promise in my own name and in the name of the House of Potter. From this day to my last day."

The gold line flared for just a second and then settled again as Remus moved to stand behind Harry and place a hand on his right shoulder. With his part finished, Hestia came forward and drew her wand.

"I, Hestia Ellis Jones, daughter of Rhys and Ellis, sister by choice of Lily, offer myself as godmother to this child, Harry James Black Potter. I pledge my heart to his care and my wand to his safety. I declare my willingness, before all who are congregated here today, to stand as a mother to him in the place of Lily should there come a time when I am needed. To always keep her present in our hearts and minds. To love her son as my own. To protect him from any and all that would bring harm upon him. To be a guide when he feels lost and a comfort when he needs solace. To be a source of knowledge for him of all the Evanses that came before him, to the best of my ability. This I promise in my own name and in the name of the House of Evans. From this day to my last day."

Hestia's line joined Remus' and she moved to place her hand on the boy's left shoulder as Andromeda made her way to the dais. She then drew her wand and cast the final binding.

"I, Andromeda Irma Black Tonks, daughter of Cygnus and Druella, cousin by blood of James and Sirius, sister by choice of Sirius, daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, offer myself as godmother to this child, Harry James Black Potter. I pledge my heart to his care and my wand to his safety. I declare my willingness, before all who are congregated here today, to stand as family and as a mother to him in the place of James, Lily and Sirius should there come a time when I am needed. To always keep them present in our hearts and minds. To love their son as my own. To protect him from any and all that would bring harm upon him. To be a guide when he feels lost and a comfort when he needs solace. To welcome Harry as the heir of the House of Black and to be a source of knowledge of Sirius and all the Blacks that came before him. This I promise in my own name and in the name of the House of Black. From this day to my last day."

Once Andromeda's vow was finished, all three gold lines sunk into Harry's and Sirius' clenched hands just like the previous three. Andromeda moved behind Harry, and as the potential custodian, she placed her hands on both of his shoulders as Arthur resumed his center place on the dais. Raising his wand, Arthur gave it a little flick and extinguished the circle of flames.

"Blessed be, everyone."

A loud cheer went up in the room as Harry leaped into his father's waiting arms. Sirius gathered his boy up and swung him around in a circle as Harry clung to him. Neither of them had eyes for anyone else around them as they hugged each other tightly and allowed themselves to feel the momentous occasion.

Finally setting Harry back down on his feet, Sirius gently took the hand with Harry's cut palm into his own and tapped it with his wand, healing the wound before doing the same for himself. He flung an arm around the boy and gave him a little squeeze, happier than he'd ever been in his life.

"C'mon, son. Let's go home."

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

It had been a good day.

Even better than the day that Sirius was finally acquitted of the crimes he'd been accused of but never actually committed. When he was once again free to walk the streets without worrying about who was following him or whether or not he'd be dragged back to his frigid and vermin infested cell. Surrounded by an endless nightmare of depression and suffering.

Today, his freedom had earned him the chance to do what he hadn't thirteen years earlier. The thing that should have been his first, second and last priority, but had been cast aside in favor of revenge.

Fulfilling his promise to James to care for his son.

But it was more than that, Sirius mused as he softly padded across the thick carpet of Harry's room and over to the bed where the boy was sprawled haphazardly on the blankets. He smiled down at James' little doppelganger, spiky black hair all askew, dress shirt rumpled and the cuffs of his trousers riding up his calves from moving around in his sleep.

A flick of his wand had a pair of pajamas emerging from the top shelf of Harry's wardrobe and flying over to them while Sirius bent to untie the boy's dress shoes that he very carefully removed along with the socks. Another flick had the pajamas exchanging themselves with the wrinkled dress clothes and the disruption in his attire was just enough to agitate the slumbering child but not wake him. Harry's closed eyes squinted and his brow furrowed briefly before he rolled over onto his side and buried his face into a pillow, letting out a deep, sleepy sigh as Sirius gently stroked his hair to calm him.

Today, Sirius well and truly became a father.

Not that he hadn't felt like Harry's father for a while already, but there was something about knowing that no one could ever take him away from Sirius ever again.

He had to admit that he felt better about things than he had for some time. Having the legalities all buttoned up was quite a load off, because Sirius really didn't trust anyone anymore except for the select few that were allowed access to their home. But with the adoption settled, and three highly skilled witches and wizards ready willing and able to take Harry in and shield him from harm, the ever-worrying father almost felt like he could get a full night's sleep tonight.

Being Harry's father had instilled in him an awareness that he didn't quite understand until he wholly took responsibility for a child. Not that Harry was necessarily a small child when he and Sirius had started to live together, but he was still a young boy who wasn't ready to be on his own yet just the same.

Frankly, Sirius worried about his child day and night, which had come as a surprise to the former professional bachelor. It was a far, far cry from the life he'd led before the tragedy, and he finally understood the absolute terror that James had felt after hearing the prophecy.

Giving the slumbering boy one last loving glance for the moment, Sirius reached into the pocket of his robe, withdrew a shimmering vial and then slowly walked over to the pensieve sitting quietly in the corner of Harry's room.

In his hand was the one memory that Sirius had been glad to remove from his head. With all the horrific things he'd seen and done in his life so far, the few minutes of time trapped inside this little vial were the ones that disturbed him most.

Not because anything truly terrible happened. There were no fights or bloody bodies from the war. No abusive episodes at the hands of his parents. Not even the night that he'd found his brother and sister dead on the floor of their home while their tiny son screamed for them.

No.

This memory contained the events directly following the small, intimate ceremony when Sirius officially became godfather to the world's most perfect child.

It was also the one and only time that Sirius ever saw James Potter afraid, and just the sight of that alone disturbed him so badly that he'd finally had to remove the memory entirely. It also reminded Sirius that he'd made a promise to his brother, and had then taken twelve long years to begin to honor it.

He could have put the memory back in his mind at any time of course. The memory was his after all. But after acquiring the pensieve for Harry's benefit, Sirius knew that there would come a day when he needed to be brave enough to face it again, and the unique thing about using the magical artifact was that it would allow him to it view the clear details of the memory as an observer rather than the hazy and flawed details of his first person selective brain.

And today was that day.

Because while he had loved Harry like a son for a long time, Sirius was a father today, and he thought that maybe he could finally look James in the eye, even if it was just a memory of him, and make that promise again now that he had a much more accurate perspective on the duties of fatherhood.

Taking a deep breath, he uncorked the vial and tipped it, letting the silvery threads spill into the basin. He watched the colorful swirls of the memory roll like tiny waves on the water, the distorted faces stretched and warped like something out of a Muggle modern art museum. He gripped the sides of the basin, his hands tensed like he was holding on for dear life, and submerged his face into the shimmering sea.

A split second later he found himself falling until he was standing in the small but cozy sitting room of the cottage in Godric's Hollow and began to remember this day.

Lily had gone upstairs for a nap. Getting some rest while she could since her tiny son was being well looked after at the moment. Marlene was on patrol for the Order tonight, so she'd said goodbye to them right after the ceremony was over instead of heading back to the cottage with the rest, and Remus and Peter were holed up in the kitchen playing a game of Wizard's Chess since James had banished them from the sitting room so the inevitable loud sounds of destruction didn't upset his baby son.

Which left only James and Sirius lounging on the sofa drinking bottles of Butterbeer and casting various charms to entertain Harry.

At the moment the baby was enthralled by the dance being performed by the tea set that Lily had inherited from her grandmother. Sirius had charmed legs onto the cups, pots and spoons and they were merrily waltzing on the surface of an elegant wooden coffee table that had been in Dorea's private parlor at the manor.

"Mum would've had your hide if she saw you doing that on her favorite table," James chuckled, the sadness in his hazel eyes betraying his smile. "One little scratch would be all it took."

Memory Sirius shook his head fondly as the baby in his lap squealed, happily waving his arms around to try and grab the nearest teacup. The doting godfather waved his wand to bring the cup closer and Harry grabbed it in his tiny fists and immediately began to gnaw on the rim.

"Please," he scoffed, "Mum would take one look at this adorable face and set fire to the thing if she thought it would make her only grandson happy."

James couldn't deny that, and he wistfully gazed at his beautiful child.

At the edge of the room, real Sirius easily recognized that look on his brother's face because it had become fairly common after the deaths of their parents.

Losing both Charlus and Dorea in such a short period of time had been hard on both James and himself. The deaths of the Potter parents left an enormous hole in the hearts of both of their sons and Harry's birth, while joyous, had only reopened those wounds again when they thought about how sad it was that he would never know them.

Baby Harry turned around to look up at Memory Sirius, holding the wiggling cup with the flailing conjured feet in his chubby hands as if to show Sirius what it was doing.

"I know, little one," Sirius cooed as he used the sleeve of his robe to wipe away a large stream of drool hanging out of the baby's mouth, "it's trying to get away from you, isn't it."

"Can you blame it?" James laughed, using his wand to summon a rubber ring from the cold cabinet in the kitchen. "You'd run too if a big, slobbering giant was trying to eat you."

He flicked the ring over to Sirius who caught it deftly and nudged it against the baby's lips. Harry squealed happily again and dropped the teacup on the floor where it promptly shattered while he grabbed at the ring and began to vigorously chew on it.

Wincing, Sirius repaired the cup as quickly as he could and then flicked it back on the table to join the others while James looked up at the ceiling warily.

"I hope Lily didn't hear that," he said with a grimace. "She only brought that tea set out because it's a special day."

"I fixed it." Sirius looked positively offended as he jostled the baby so Harry was laying back a little more comfortably. "Don't you have any confidence in my skills?"

"Oh, you mean like the soup tureen?"

James cocked an eyebrow, challenging his best friend to deny it and then chuckled as Sirius' face grew red.

"I missed one tiny crack," Sirius protested. "How was I to know she'd put something hot in it?"

"It's a soup tureen, Pads," James pointed out as he burst out laughing. "And it got broken because you thought it would be a good idea to brew Amortentia in it. The fumes made you so giddy that you tripped over your own feet trying to snog it."

Real Sirius chuckled to himself, vividly remembering the potion and how the smell of apple rings, spring rain and Marlene's perfume had made him incredibly dizzy.

"Well, it wasn't for me," Memory Sirius grumbled. "I made it for Moony. Merlin knows he needs all the help he can get figuring out what bird to shag."

"I heard that," came a disgruntled voice from the direction of the kitchen.

"I meant you to!" Sirius snapped back as he wiped Harry's mouth again. "Unlike me, you're only getting older and uglier, Remus."

Remus poked his head out of the kitchen with his wand drawn and James immediately whipped up his own and cast a shield around Harry.

"No hexing around the baby, you two," he scolded sternly. "Don't make me get my wife."

On the sofa, Sirius sulked at being unable cover Remus' face in boils and Remus slunk back into the kitchen to his abandoned chess game before James made good on his threat and summoned Lily.

No one wanted that to happen.

"Prongs," Sirius groused as he used his wand in desperation to siphon some of the saliva from Harry's chin, "I think there's something wrong with your kid. Nothing can drool this much and be healthy."

"He's teething, Pads," James said in amused exasperation. "I assure you he's perfectly fine."

"Teething?"

Sirius frowned at his tiny godson who was enthusiastically trying to eat his way through the plastic. Magical children didn't teethe. There was no need for it when a simple spell could have the tiny little chompers break right through the gums with no pain or mess.

"Why in Merlin's name are you making him go through all that nonsense? What kind of monsters are you?"

Rolling his eyes, James shook his head as he used his wand to draw animated doodles over his son to draw some of the boy's attention away from the ring.

"Lily wants Harry to have some Muggle experiences," he shrugged. "It's important to her that he doesn't forget that he's a half-blood. You know how sensitive she can be about being Muggleborn."

"Well couldn't she have chosen something that didn't have the sprog turning into a mini fountain?" Sirius scoffed. "What are all the cute little baby witches going to say when they see him with his face covered in slobber? Think of his future."

"It's fine," James assured him, smiling as Harry kicked his little legs in excitement as the conjured Pegasus flew around his head. "I give it one good night of Harry crying his eyes out from the discomfort before Lils cracks and does the spell herself."

Sirius nodded in approval as he lifted Harry up in the air a little so the baby could grab at the flying horse. "Good. Because my godson is going to be a right little ladies man, just like his Uncle Padfoot, aren't you little one?"

Harry squealed again and waved his arms vigorously in the air.

"See?" Sirius said smugly, "He agrees with me."

James rolled his eyes again and flipped Sirius the bird. The two wizards sat silently for a few minutes as they watched the baby play. Harry's simple innocence was enough to make them forget, just for a few precious minutes, about the terrible prophecy that now hung over the child's head.

He and Lily had taken the news rather stoically when Albus had first come to them with it.

In the beginning they were a little numb, but as time went on they just continued to live their lives as best they could, starting to believe just a little that maybe it wasn't about their son after all. But Voldemort grew stronger and more dangerous every day and the gravity of it all was beginning to hang in the air like a thunderous rain cloud. It was an ever constant specter that tinged every minute of their day until they were ready to scream.

Like now.

"So it's all official, Godfather," James reminded his friend quietly. "You took a vow this morning. There's no going back now."

Sirius didn't let the flutter of unease he felt in his stomach show on his face as he raised Harry over his head and blew a raspberry on the baby's belly. The infant giggled, the sweet sound of a child's joy ringing through the room and making the men smile before Sirius set him back down on his lap and put the teething ring back into his wet toothless mouth.

"I didn't need to make a vow to protect your son, Prongs," he reminded his brother. "You've had my wand in your defense since our first day on the Express."

James smiled weakly, the fear for his tiny son's future darkening his hazel eyes.

"I know that, Pads. And I love you for it. But I need you to promise me that you won't let that monster hurt my little boy."

"Don't be silly," Sirius scoffed, gamely trying to mask his own fear with bravado. "That psychopath isn't all he thinks he is. He won't even know what hit him if he dares come anywhere near here. We'll see to that."

It wasn't the promise that James asked for and desperately needed at the moment. Only he, Lily and Sirius knew that the Potters had decided this morning to go into hiding. Something that James would never have agreed to if he didn't genuinely fear for his son.

"Promise me, Sirius," James demanded, all traces of earlier good mood and humor gone from his stricken face. "You promise me right now that if I die you won't let Voldemort kill my son. Promise me!"

Both Real Sirius and Memory Sirius looked at their brother-in-all-but-name and felt their blood run cold when James looked as scared as he did in this moment.

James Potter was a warrior. He laughed in the face of danger and taunted his opponents as he hunted down the darkest of wizards. Lethal with his wand and cutting with his tongue, he was a fierce opponent in debate and battle.

But right then, all he was, was a young father, profoundly afraid for his son.

And as one, both Siriuses looked directly into James' eyes wild with fright.

"I promise."