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

43. Chapter 43

A/N Hello my lovely readers! Sorry for the long wait, but I hope the fact that this chapter is super, super, SUPER long will make up for it. It's not a whole lot of action. More like just an exploration of a couple of regular days in the lives of Sirius and Harry, with a few pertinent story bits thrown in. Every once in a while, I feel the need to do a little world building, and that's what today's chapter is. If that's not your thing, that's okay. You can skip it and not miss too much.

I want to give a great big THANK YOU to Readwriterepeat2415 who is my frequent sounding board and literary agony aunt. She very generously read this monster in progress when I needed advice and support! If you haven't read her Tuesdays with Padfoot series, you really should. She's an exceptionally talented writer and her stories are my happiest mental escapes.

So here's the chapter, or should I say story within a story., considering the brutal length. I call it Harry Potter and the Series of Bad Days lol. It's best read in bite sized pieces if you value your eyesight! And remember that it takes place in 1995. Technology was very different then! Enjoy :)

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

Remus Lupin was having a bad day.

After several heated discussions on the viability of suspending classes for the traditional Easter holiday when they'd only really just gotten started, Molly Weasley had curtly informed everyone that she did, in fact, have three other children who were coming home that she hadn't seen for months and, busy scholastic timetable or not, neither she nor Ron were going to be deprived of a good long visit with his siblings.

That had pretty much settled the matter, which meant that Fulminare had declared its first official break as of yesterday morning.

Hugh and Jean, happy in their cottage on the estate but missing their own home, collected Hermione after breakfast, and the three of them were ferried by elf back to their cozy house in Hampstead to spend the two weeks there, while Neville took the floo home to his grandmother who was very eager to talk about the excellent progress he'd made at his new school.

Meanwhile, Sirius had decided that it was a good opportunity for Harry to spend some time back in the Muggle world, so he brought Harry and Ron to the London flat to stay for a bit.

Ron was only visiting for a couple of days. Molly was very insistent that her whole family spend some time together after all, but this way he would already be in London to at least greet his brothers and sister coming off the Express before they headed off to the Burrow.

Despite some of Hermione's comments to the contrary, he really wasn't as callous or inconsiderate as some might think him.

The young man understood just how lucky he'd been to have had their mother and father all to himself for the past several weeks and now he wanted to give the others a chance to have their own time with Molly and Arthur. With his parents grudging assent, he was spending a little part of the holidays at the flat with Harry before going home to join his siblings.

Besides, London was full of fun things to do, and last night, at Nymphadora's urging, Sirius had been convinced to take the boys, as well as Remus and Dora, to a concert at Wembley Stadium to see a American Muggle musician perform. For some odd reason, the singer had a symbol for a name, but Dora informed the others that he was usually referred to as 'the artist formerly known as Prince' and also that he was one of the best guitarists in either the Muggle or Wizarding worlds.

Sirius and Remus just shook their heads in bewilderment, but Harry had obviously heard of him as well, and the boys were very interested in getting to go out for a show, so they went.

Dora, a half-blood like Harry, had always fully embraced her Muggle side as much as her Magical one, and she seemed especially determined to make Sirius offer the same opportunities to his son.

Not that Sirius needed much persuasion in that regard, as that was the whole reason for the extra subjects in their school in the first place, and he'd enjoyed going to concerts with his own mates whenever they could. Just because the war had been going on long before they graduated Hogwarts, that didn't stop the Marauders from sometimes slipping away for a little normalcy as young men.

So Sirius was already aware of the concept of a ticket scalper in front of the area, where he ended up paying a king's ransom for last minute seats in the third row, and the little party arrived inside just in time for the show to start. It was crowded and loud, full of people who were there to have a very good time and a huge cheer went up when the soft purple spotlights came on. It only took a few songs for Sirius and Remus to decide that neither of them cared for the music, although Sirius at least admitted that the chap was a proper guitarist, but both of them also agreed that the diminutive man on stage dressed quite oddly for a Muggle.

Which, considering how their own people attired themselves, didn't exactly give the the two wizards a fashionable high ground to stand on.

The boys, however, had a smashing time.

They didn't necessarily like the musical style either, with Ron pompously commenting that the Weird Sisters were far better, but Dora was obviously a big fan and her enthusiasm and the way she dragged Harry and Ron into the aisle to dance with her in a frenzy of wild abandon more than made up for it. She sang along at the top of her lungs to the songs she knew, loudly mumbled gibberish to the ones she didn't, and cheerfully accused Sirius and Remus of being grumpy old men when they wouldn't join in, which made the boys laugh even as the two thirty-six-year-olds scowled.

Afterwards, their ears ringing from the almost two hours of loud noise, the lot of them, minus Dora who apparated off to her own place, arrived back at the flat very late. Harry and Ron were absolutely buzzing with leftover energy from the excitement of a fun night out, which meant that Sirius had a very hard time getting them to go to bed, especially since it was well after Harry's normal curfew, which seemed to make the boy think that all rules had been thrown right out the window.

Sirius naturally had a thing or two he wanted to say about that but, deciding that the point of a holiday was to break free from their normal routines and have fun, he didn't really push the issue until their noisy chatter in the living room got too loud for him to sleep through and he finally had to get up from his own bed and chase them into their rooms.

This morning, looking a bit worse for wear, Sirius and Remus were slouched at the dining table and nursing strong cups of the coffee that Dobby had dropped off along with a small breakfast feast from the manor's kitchen.

"Do you think we're old?"

Remus blearily glanced up from his cup to see Sirius frowning at his reflection in the mirror that was mounted over the oak sideboard next to the table. He was rubbing the tips of his fingers along his face and mostly likely searching for non-existent wrinkles.

"I think that's a matter of personal perspective, Pads," he smiled tiredly. "I'm quite sure Harry and Ron believe we are."

He paused, his lips pursing in thought as he took a sip of his coffee and stared down at his hands.

"Likely Dora does as well."

A smirk crept across Sirius' face as he stopped obsessing over his own handsomeness to glance over at his suddenly maudlin friend.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," he teased, chuckling at the look of discomfort that came over Remus' face. "She seems quite enamored of you."

Putting his coffee down, Remus huffed as he stood to take another slice of toast from the tray on the sideboard before retaking his seat. He kept his gaze on his plate as he busied himself with tearing the poor buttered bread into chunks with a little more aggression than was entirely necessary.

"I can't even begin to imagine why," he snorted humorlessly, not denying Sirius' claim. "I imagine it's just the novelty of knowing a tame werewolf."

Now Sirius frowned. Not only because of the slight against his cousin's judgment, but the slight against Remus himself. His friend had made a lifelong habit of putting himself down because of a condition that was in no way of his own making.

"Do you really think so little of Dora's good opinion?"

Sighing, Remus brushed off his crumb covered fingers, his toast remaining uneaten as he leaned back in his chair.

"I think she's a lovely young woman, who might be just a tad too naive about certain realities," he answered at long length. "Right now she has the world at her feet, so why she would concern herself with a broken down old thing like me, with all the stigmas attached to my condition, is a mystery. I expect, once the initial thrill has passed, she will consider it fortunate that she never acted on any of her impulses and find someone much more appropriate."

"I really hate it when you do that," Sirius hissed, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "You have a lot to offer a woman, and if you could stop wallowing in your own self pity for one moment, you would see how totally asinine that comment is!"

Remus' temper flared from the blunt rebuke and he had to work to tamp down his irritation before saying something that he would most surely regret later. This was an incredibly old argument. One he simply didn't wish to have any more.

"It's very easy for you to say, Sirius," he snapped, his poor night's sleep getting the best of his humor. "You don't have to worry about being in a position where you could inadvertently cause your loved ones irreparable harm if you don't take extreme measures to contain a murderous beast inside of you every month!"

Sirius scowled and pushed his own coffee cup away with enough force to cause some of the liquid to splash out on the table.

"Rubbish!" he snorted, eyes storming. "You've managed your condition since you were a sprog. You know perfectly well what you are doing by now. The real problem is that you use your lycanthropy like a shield. Protecting you from ever having to risk your tender heart by starting a relationship where you might just get hurt once in a while. Well, news flash, Moony, we all get hurt. That's just life."

"You're a fine one to talk," Remus retorted hotly, his rage just simmering beneath the surface. "You use Harry for the same purpose. How many times have you told me that you can't date because it wouldn't be fair to him? Is that really any more noble of a reason than mine? Or is it worse, because while I may be hiding behind my curse, you hide behind your son. I don't think that I'm the one with the real problem here."

The two wizards glared at each other for moment, a bit surprised by just how quickly their morning coffee talk had spiraled out of control. Each of them were breathing deeply as they fought to rein in their tempers and both were keenly aware that this line of conversation, if continued, could easily go down a dark path that it might never come back from. It appeared that their poor sleep the night before had them both a little out of sorts.

The tension in the air was as volatile as a powder keg, and it was only going to take one more verbal spark before it all blew up in their faces.

"Well, I think it's time to get the boys out of bed," Sirius said at last, averting his gaze away from his equally upset friend. "Harry needs to eat something, and you know it's not likely that he'll do so willingly if I'm not here to make him."

Without another word, Sirius pushed his chair back and got from the table and then stalked off towards the hallway where the bedrooms were located. Remus watched him go as a sharp pain pierced his chest. He hadn't meant that last cutting remark. Not at all. It was only his own defensiveness over knowing that Sirius was right that had him speaking without thinking.

A loud shriek from the direction of the bedrooms had Remus instantly on alert, but the following peals of uncontrollable grunts and giggles let him know that Sirius had most likely cast a couple of tickling charms in his efforts to dislodge the boys from their beds. It was probably necessary too since Harry wasn't exactly a morning person, and with the distinct lack of sleep from the night before, Remus guessed that the tired teenager wasn't particularly pleased about being woken up before noon.

The ensuing sounds of several annoyingly whiny groans drifting down the hall were all he needed to confirm his suspicions.

Remus smiled to himself, remembering the times that James' father had done the same to them during the occasional holiday sleepovers that the Marauders had at the manor outside of Godric's Hollow. The boys would stay up into the wee hours, planning pranks and mooning over girls, with James always able to sweet talk his indulgent parents into letting them get away with just about anything as long as it wasn't too dangerous.

They'd all had their roles to play in their little group back then.

James was the undisputed leader. The spokesman and the one that came up with all the plans in the first place.

Sirius, the brave one. Always willing to charge into any situation head first and shaming the others into rummaging around in their trousers until they found the balls to join him.

Remus, the voice of reason, preaching patience and caution so they didn't all get killed.

And Peter?

Well, Peter was the admirer. The one who fawned over the others and puffed up their adolescent egos.

He listened to James' every word and command like it was gospel. He followed Sirius around like a puppy, no matter what the other boy was doing. To Remus, he went for advice, whether it was a school assignment or a broken heart.

Peter was everyone's slightly more pathetic little brother.

Until he wasn't.

The memories flooding his brain made Remus suddenly miss those happy, carefree days very badly and he felt exceptionally heavy guilt begin to pool in his stomach over his earlier row with Sirius. He was a good friend, the best, and also the only one that Remus had left. Hadn't Remus already hurt him badly by not even bothering to visit him once in Azkaban? When a few simple words might have changed everything and spared Sirius and Harry both years of torment.

And Sirius had forgiven him, without hesitation or reservation, and all he'd wanted this morning was for his oldest friend to try for a little happiness.

What did that get him?

A dirty shot against his own insecurities.

His cheeks hot with shame, Remus busied himself by pouring a second cup of coffee, determined to apologize for his earlier outburst, when suddenly there was a pounding at the front door.

It startled him, because very few people even knew that the flat was inhabited and even fewer knew by whom. He automatically reached for his wand as he heard Sirius firmly shushing the boys, ordering them to stay put or else, before he bounded into the living room, his own wand drawn.

Their earlier rift forgotten, the two wizards worked like a flawless team as they silently moved in tandem towards the door. Sirius held up a hand to wordlessly begin a countdown just before another bang sounded, and a slightly irritated voice echoed from the other side.

"For Merlin's sake, people!" Dora's voice called out, "let me in before I drop this entire bloody tray!"

Sirius groaned, and he and Remus instantly relaxed although both of them were sporting matching frowns of annoyance. He checked through the door viewer to confirm that it was his very loud cousin and then unbolted the locks and swept the door open, his wand still in his hand as he ushered Dora inside.

The pretty metamorphmagus was heavily laden with large cardboard trays of hot drinks and pastries that all immediately went flying the minute she caught her foot on the metal carpet strip in the entry and tripped. With cat-like reflexes, Sirius flicked his wand to immobilize everything that threatened to drench his floors and Remus reached out and caught the clumsy girl before she could face plant at his feet.

"You're a witch, Nymphadora," Sirius snapped crossly as he plucked the items out of the air and sent them whizzing towards the sideboard. "Is it so hard to use the floo?"

Dora was still clutched in Remus' arms against his chest as she stared up at him, a flirty little smile on her face, and she appeared to be in no hurry to go anywhere.

Not that Remus was in any kind of rush either.

"Don't call me Nymphadora," she said with a huff. "I bring you breakfast and this is the thanks I get? Could you imagine me trying to get all that out of a floo safely? And forget about apparation. I'd be wearing it all and so would your expensive carpet."

Sirius was still attempting to get his blood pressure back down as he grumbled under his breath and rubbed his face, while Remus finally forced himself to push their visitor away from his chest. Undeterred, Dora winked at him and Remus felt his cheeks flush like he was no older than an infatuated firstie. It was infuriating the way the young woman could so quickly wreak havoc on his normal composure.

"BOYS!" Sirius bellowed, his earlier bad mood back in full force now that the potential threat had passed. "It's just my klutzy little cousin. Get your bums out here and eat!"

Dora narrowed her eyes at Sirius, but he ignored her and instead moved over to the sideboard to put together heaping plates of food for the kids. With him busy, Remus suddenly found himself being pushed backwards into the hall and out of Sirius' sight, and before he knew what was happening, Dora had risen up on her tiptoes and pressed an insistent kiss against his own lips before leaning back and chuckling.

"Thanks for the save, Wolfie. You're my hero."

The unexpected act flustered Remus tremendously, which only got worse when they realized that the boys coming down the hallway had obviously seen everything. Ron had his eyes averted as he skirted by them, although he was giggling madly, and Harry's face was beet red, his mouth puckered into a frown. He didn't return Dora's greeting when she tried to say hello.

"Whoops," Dora snickered as she winked again and then turned to go into the dining area to join the others.

After a start like that, the late breakfast was incredibly awkward.

Sirius set the food down in front of each boy while Dora casually perched on a chair at the end of the table and sipped at one of the coffees she'd brought with her. Ron, still only half awake but with a rumbling tummy, immediately hunched over his plate to shovel piles of eggs into his mouth. But Harry, a combination of the late night and the overall rudeness of his waking, was clearly quite cross.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered irritably as he pushed his plate away. "Can't I just go back to bed?"

"No you may not. Now eat something. You'll feel better after."

Sirius gave his son a sharp glare and tapped the end of Harry's untouched plate with his finger tip. The boy scowled and grabbed a piece of streaky bacon that he took the tiniest of nibbles out of before setting it back down.

"That bacon is all rubbery," he whinged as he poked a fork at his eggs, "and these smell funny. I can't eat them."

Dora snorted into her cup as she rolled her eyes at the boy's theatrics, but Sirius, his temper already strained, wasn't nearly as amused by his son's uncharacteristic complaining. Across from them, Remus couldn't help feeling badly that it was almost surely his earlier spat with Sirius that had his friend being a bit less patient with Harry than he might have been normally.

"There's nothing wrong with the food, Harry James," Sirius growled. "You don't see Ron complaining."

Huffing derisively, Harry looked over at where his friend was steadily working his way through his meal and grimaced in disgust.

"Well, Ron will eat just about anything, so it's not like that's a high bar."

Ron, offended by the unprovoked slight against his person, lifted his head up to scowl at the other boy.

"Oi!"

It didn't help his case that a spray of toast crumbs spilled from his mouth making Harry put a hand up defensively before he got splattered.

With Ron having just proven his point, Harry tilted his head to indicate the small mess to his father and Sirius, not amused or convinced, cocked an annoyed eyebrow at his child and drummed his fingers on the table as father and son had a silent little standoff. In an attempt to lessen the cloud of tension in the room, Dora jumped up from her chair and grabbed the tray of fruit scones she'd brought with her, placing them on the table in front of the testy teenager.

"These are from a little bakery down the street from my flat," she said brightly, trying to tempt Harry into taking one. "Made fresh this morning. Have one, Harry. They're divine."

Harry took one look, wrinkled his nose and then shook his head, despite the heavenly aroma they gave off.

"No thanks," he muttered, crossing his arms and turning away from where she was smiling at him.

Across the table Remus could see that Sirius was growing more agitated with his kid and Remus couldn't blame him. Harry really was acting like a little prat at the moment and there was simply no reasonable explanation as to why. Like any kid, he could be grumpy on occasion, but this poor behavior was a bit too much for him.

Sirius sighed heavily and massaged his temples. But even his lack of further rebuke didn't keep Harry from going on to loudly complain that his eggs tasted like rubber, the toast was cold and the absence of his favored mango juice was a sure sign that the kitchen elves don't care about me at all, and just about anything else he could think of until Remus could see that Sirius' patience with his child wasn't going to last much longer.

Clearly Harry was upset about something that had nothing to do with his breakfast, and that was probably the only reason why Sirius had not strangled the boy just yet. But Remus could see that his friend was looking a little overwhelmed at the moment and it angered him on Sirius' behalf that Harry was being so monstrous to his father.

"Okay, kiddo," Sirius sighed, the fight gone right out of him, "obviously there's a reason you're not sharing that has you horribly out of sorts this morning. Just this once, I'll call Dobby and ask him to bring you something else. What would you like?"

The shameless placating might have even worked if Remus had just left it alone, since Harry's tense shoulders relaxed just a fraction, but his ire was already up by this point and with impeccably bad timing and an inexcusable shortsightedness on his part, the new godfather felt it was somehow his duty to step in and curb the boy's attitude if Sirius wasn't going to.

Really, it was probably more that Remus was feeling badly about putting Sirius in a bad mood in the first place and also the way he'd been thoroughly disconcerted by Dora's kiss, than anything else.

"You're lucky you didn't grow up in my house, young man," he scolded with a wagging finger in Harry's direction to emphasize his point. "If I tried to pull that nonsense, my Mum would have let me starve to death."

Harry's face flushed fire engine red at the rebuke, and it took a few seconds of heavy breathing for him to lift his head and narrow his eyes at Remus menacingly. "No one asked you!"

And that was finally a bridge too far for Sirius.

He was up and out of his chair in a flash and pulling Harry out of his and steering the boy towards the hallway before anyone could even blink. Too late Remus regretted his intervention, and he and the others sat at the table in awkward silence as the sounds of a mumbled but decidedly heated argument echoed in the flat. A muffled thwack was most likely Harry getting a swat, and that was followed by even more agitated voices before father and son came back into the main room, Harry's ears burning red as Sirius plopped his son back down in his seat.

The embarrassed boy glared at his plate in silence until Sirius cleared his throat, making Harry clench his teeth before speaking to no one in particular.

"I apologize for my rudeness."

"Temper like your Mum," Dora teased playfully, attempting to lighten the mood after a few uncomfortable seconds. "But since you're magically gifted like her too it's probably a fair trade off."

Her bubbly humor made Harry gift her with a tiny smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but he did at least pick up one of the strawberry scones to take a small bite and Remus watched Ron nudge his best friend, sending him an are you alright? kind of look that Harry just nodded at.

Sirius disappeared into the small kitchen, and Remus, needing to clear the air, got up from his chair to follow. He heard his friend summon Dobby, and the faithful little elf popped in immediately.

"I hate to be a bother, Dobby," Sirius apologized quietly, "and you all prepared such a wonderful meal already, but could I impose on you to bring Harry a plate of sausages and fried potatoes and a glass of his mango juice? Those are his favorites."

"Dobby is happy to bring more breakfast to the great Harry Potter, Papa Seriously," Dobby answered fervently, his fondness for Harry shining in his huge eyes. "Dobby will be back before you know it!"

With a flash Dobby was gone and Sirius leaned tiredly over the counter, his eyes closed as he took in some deep soothing breaths. Remus didn't really want to disturb his friend when it was clear that Sirius was struggling as it was, but he at least wanted to apologize.

"I'm sorry about earlier, Padfoot. I should never have tried to compare your situation to mine."

Really he was expecting Sirius to rebuke him further, as Remus certainly deserved for his cheap shot over Sirius' lack of a love life, but instead his friend raised his head and glared before responding.

"Might I ask you to remember exactly where Harry grew up before telling him how lucky he was?" Sirius hissed, quite a bit more sharply than Remus was prepared for. "Is it not enough that he has to live with the memories of that horrible place, but you had to make him feel as if he should be grateful for it?"

Realizing what he had said, Remus closed his eyes and groaned. Merlin, he really did feel like an idiot! It had been nothing more than a casual rebuke in his mind. Just one of those stereotypical things you say to a kid that's being difficult. He hadn't even thought about it in terms of Harry's actual upbringing.

"I reprimanded him," Sirius barked sharply, "but only because he's not allowed to speak to you so disrespectfully. Not because I agreed with you."

"I'm incredibly sorry, Sirius," Remus said sincerely. "What a horrible thing for me to do. I'll go apologize to Harry at once."

"No, don't," his friend sighed, rubbing his head again. "Not right now, anyway. Later when he's more calm. You bringing it back up right now would just put him even more on the defensive. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into him today, and unfortunately I don't really have time to find out before I leave. I'll be late for my meeting with Albus if I don't get going soon."

That was another factor in Sirius' very bad mood.

This meeting with Albus that he'd been putting off for as long as he could.

Remus knew well that his friend had very conflicted feelings about their former headmaster and leader after everything that had happened regarding Sirius' imprisonment, Harry's upbringing and all the dangers the boy had faced at Hogwarts. Even now, with Albus' days being numbered and a whole host of unknown problems laying ahead of them which Albus would be instrumental in helping out with, Sirius wasn't exactly in a forgiving and forgetting frame of mind.

But with school in recess for the holiday, he'd decided that it was as good a time as any for the inevitable confrontation. After all, it was better that there be as few children around as possible, just in case the conflict got heated and spilled out into the corridors of the castle.

A loud pop sounded, startling both of them for a second when Dobby reappeared, his hands full with another plate of food and a pitcher of mango juice.

"Favorite breakfast for Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said happily as he held them out to Sirius and bowed. "Dobby is always pleased to do whatever he can for such a great wizard."

"Thank you, Dobby," Sirius nodded appreciatively. "You're a lifesaver."

The faithful little elf beamed and then popped back to the manor, leaving the two friends staring at each other in silence for a few seconds before Sirius turned towards the door.

"I have to get going."

It wasn't quite a dismissal, but Remus knew that with everything else going on today, their little spat was the least of Sirius' worries. So he sighed in resignation and followed his friend back out to the dining room.

Harry looked suitably chastened when his father placed the new breakfast plate in front of him and began to pour a glass of the preferred juice to replace the pumpkin that he vanished with a wave of his hand. You could see the guilt wash over him as he maybe realized just how willing his father was to accommodate his petty whinging and how big of a prat he was being. The boy's face fell and he hung his head in shame.

Sirius gazed at his son sadly before leaning down to dropped a kiss on the messy black head.

"You need something in your belly, little one," he scolded gently as he stood back up and clasped Harry's shoulder. "Just have a bit of that and then you can go back to bed if you want and get more rest."

Harry, choked up and feeling completely awful for his earlier behavior, swallowed the large lump in his throat as he looked up at his father. Big, green sorrowful eyes behind his glasses, wordlessly asking for forgiveness.

"I know," Sirius nodded, understanding the silent plea. "We can talk about it later when I'm back."

"Can't I go with you?" Harry implored, unconsciously reaching out to grab Sirius by the shirt sleeve. "Please? I'd like to say hello to Professor Dumbledore."

"No, I'm sorry." Sirius shook his head and put his hand over his son's and squeezed it. "Not this time. But at some point soon, I promise."

Remus could tell that the boy wanted to argue, but Harry kept his mouth closed as he reached for his juice glass and took a sip instead while Sirius tousled his hair affectionately and then turned to grab his cloak.

"Behave yourself and mind Remus while I'm gone, Harry James. You too, Ron."

Both boys gave Sirius a muttered yes, sir, the exhaustion on their faces still quite apparent. Remus had promised to watch them while Sirius was gone today, and he was hoping that things in the flat were going to go a bit smoother than they had already this morning. The last thing he wanted was to get into another row with his new godson.

"They'll be fine," Dora chuckled, crossing her arms and smirking at the two teens. "Any funny business and I'll turn them into a couple of flobberworms."

"When I return, I'd like my son to be in the same condition as I leave him, Nymphadora," Sirius answered with a lifted eyebrow. "And just a reminder, we do try to avoid using magic here whenever possible."

Dora's eyes flared over the use of her detested name and she lifted her wand, most likely intent on hexing her cousin until Remus reached out to gently guide her hand back down to her side.

"Don't worry about us, Padfoot. Just go and get this over with."

"Right," Sirius sighed unhappily. With a quick turn and a tiny pop! he was gone.

His departure left the rest of them to lounge around the table and finish up their meals. Saturdays and Sundays were Dora's days off, and she was enthusiastically suggesting that they go to see a show in the West End later on that night. She'd heard from a friend that there was a live revival of some Muggle musical called The Rocky Horror Picture Show and it promised to be a smashing time.

Neither Remus nor the boys understood why it was acceptable to go to a performance with odd props and the intention of throwing food at the stage, but Dora promised them that it was expected and all in good fun. She did not mention that she suspected that Sirius would be unlikely to allow the boys to go at all if he knew how risque the show was beforehand.

"I don't think Papa will say yes, since we're already seeing a show tomorrow night," Harry pointed out as he swallowed the last of his sausage. "He promised Professor Jean that we would go with her and Hermione to see some kind of poncy Disney musical."

Next to him, Ron chortled into his juice glass and got an elbow to his side for his trouble.

"Better you than me, mate," the redhead laughed as Harry grimaced. "Why do you think I'm only staying until lunchtime tomorrow?"

"Really? It's not Beauty and the Beast, is it?" Dora asked brightly. "Because Mum's been dying to see that as well. Did you know that it's based on one of our kind of nursery stories?"

"Yeah, that's it," Harry said, immediately perking up. It wasn't such a distasteful idea to him now that he knew the show had its origins in wizarding culture. That actually made it kind of cool in his eyes. "Why don't you ask her to join us? I bet Papa could get another ticket for her. He's pretty good at that kind of thing. Do you want to see it as well?"

Dora could help the fit of laughter that burst out, causing the rest to look at her funny as they didn't get the joke.

"I'm sorry," she panted between giggles. "It's still just so odd listening to Harry call Sirius 'Papa'. Sirius always had such a reputation as a love 'em and leave 'em type according to my parents. I guess he's just the last person I ever saw becoming a father."

The scowl was back on Harry's face within seconds as he took exception to the slight on his father's parenting. He'd heard stories of Sirius' romantic prowess from more than one person, thankfully without any details, but he didn't like Sirius being judged on his behavior as a young man compared to the person he was today.

"Well, he's a brilliant father," the boy snapped as he stood up to leave the table in a huff.

Dora stopped laughing immediately. She hadn't meant to offend either Sirius or Harry. Sometimes her big mouth just got her into trouble before she could think about what she was saying.

"I can see that, Harry," she apologized. "Really. And he clearly loves you more than life itself. I wasn't trying to have a go at him, I promise."

Her sincerity soothed the boy's ruffled feathers at little, although it was clear that Harry was quickly working himself back into his earlier grumpy mood. Seeing this, Ron got up and nudged his friend toward the sitting area.

"C'mon, mate. Let's have at that racing game again, alright?"

Harry nodded and the two boys sauntered off to the couches as Dora flopped down on the chair next to Remus and let out a large huff.

"I'm forever sticking my foot in my mouth around that boy."

"He'll get over it," Remus assured her with a warm smile. "Harry's just very protective of Sirius. I've told you about what happened before the Second Task."

Dora hummed in thought as she absentmindedly reshaped her hand from one with human fingers to a furry paw with razor sharp claws. It was still surreal for Remus to watch an actual metamorphmagus shift their body.

"So, would you like me to talk to Sirius about tickets for you and Andromeda for the show tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Dora smiled suggestively as she stopped her shifting to glance up at him with a curled smile. "It depends. Are you going, Wolfie?"

Remus gazed at the pretty young woman's adoring face and his heart practically skipped a beat, but deep down inside he knew it was a hopeless cause. No amount of wishful thinking or desire on his part was going to make any of this easier on either one of them, and the more he let himself dwell in a world of fantasy, the harder it would be when he had to tell her that it could go nowhere.

"I'm afraid not. That show already has its quota of beasts," he answered sadly as he turned away to pour another cup of coffee from the sideboard. "I'll be at home working on lesson plans for when our classes resume."

With his back turned to her, he didn't see the frown that spread across Dora's face, or the way her bright pink hair dulled to a mousy gray.

After their outing last night, when Dora had been a vision of youth and beauty, Remus had more or less come to the conclusion that it was time to gently explain to her that there could be nothing between them, and this morning's little kiss had only cemented the necessity of the conversation happening the sooner the better. Why someone as talented, beautiful and vivacious as Dora would see anything in Remus in the first place he didn't know.

But what he did know was that she was far too special to waste any time on an old, broken down wizard like himself.

He'd enjoyed her attention over the past few weeks when she'd made a point to be around Celestial Court as often as possible. The flirty way she smiled at him every time they met each other loudly spoke to the part inside of him that just wanted to be a normal man admiring a lovely lady. She was smart as whip, skilled with a wand and spread enough joy around her for a dozen people everywhere she went.

In another world, at another time, Remus would like to think that he would have been brave enough to return her overtures, but in reality he knew that it was just simply impossible. Dora might be interested now, when the novelty of his condition, the danger aspect of it all appealing to her auror side, was still new and exciting. But once she realized that he could never offer her anything more than friendship without risking tragedy, she'd move on, as she should, to someone more her age and in better position to give her the life she deserved.

Unable to look her in the eye just yet, he silently pondered the best way to make his point without hurting her.

Unfortunately, with all the noise around him, he simply couldn't think straight at the moment.

"Better hurry up!"

"Shut it!"

"You're bodging it!"

" Sod off!"

Remus frowned and turned to glance over to the boys on the sofa intently hunched over their game controllers as absurdly cheerful music echoed from the telly.

"Language, young man," he scolded automatically, knowing that Sirius would expect him to issue the reprimand as part of his afternoon child minding duties.

"It wasn't me," Harry immediately called out, barely missing a beat as he navigated his cartoon car around the track. He only had a few days left with the mandrake leaf and he probably wasn't about to risk either losing the leaf and starting the month over or getting his rear end smacked again if Remus ratted him out to his father for swearing.

"Git," Ron hissed, turning away from the screen to narrow his eyes in betrayal at his friend. His split second of inattention to the screen caused him to crash his own racing car resulting in a loud explosion that filled in the room.

Harry's lead in the race seemed to put him in a good mood for the first time all day. He leaned forward with intent as he sped to the finish line, letting out a loud whoop of triumph right in Ron's face while the redhead scowled and shoved him away.

"Harry James," Remus admonished sternly, his inner turmoil over Dora getting the best of his temper once again as he retook his seat at the table, "that's not how friends treat each other. I don't know what's come over you today. Behave yourself, young man, or that game is getting turned off if it's only going to cause trouble."

Dora scoffed as she gave Remus' arm a light slap.

"It's not Harry's fault he won because Ron wasn't paying attention, Wolfie," she chided him. "It's like Moody always says. Constant Vigilance!"

She winked at Harry and the boy, happy to see that she was taking his side, beamed back at her.

Remus' current mental struggle and his genuine regard for Dora's opinion had him biting his tongue before he made another short tempered faux pas. She was clearly willing to fight Harry's corner over something that wasn't even that big a deal, so he didn't bother to continue his perfunctory rebuke. Which really didn't matter since the two boys were ignoring him anyway. They'd quickly moved on from their little row and were loudly tussling over a bag of prawn cocktail flavored crisps while a new game was loading on the screen.

The video game. That was another thing that had Remus shaking his head.

The NES gaming console that had recently taken over a large portion of the sitting area in the living room of the flat had been yet another 'adoption present' from Sirius to his son. The enormously happy new father had gotten into a firm habit lately of cheerfully ignoring his best friend's resigned accusations that he was shamelessly spoiling Harry by...shamelessly spoiling Harry. The boy had been practically showered in gifts since the day of the adoption, and it didn't seem as if Sirius was planning on stopping any time soon.

Just in London alone, Harry had a large cache of new Muggle goodies to enjoy. Never mind what the growing pile of Magical items at Celestial Court looked like.

In addition to the NES, a full box of games to go with it and the largest telly that Sirius could find, the flat had a brand new computer in Harry's bedroom as well as three more in the alcove off the living room that had been set up as a small office of sorts. Sirius defended the large purchase of electronics by pointing out that the games would hone Harry's reflexes and also that Hugh had expressed interest in adding an after-class computer tutorial to compliment both his World History and Geography lessons. Apparently there was some educational game called The Oregon Trail that was very popular with schools in the States.

Sirius had no idea what that was, but he did approve of anything that could potentially broaden Harry's world view.

"Harry's a good kid, Wofie."

Remus turned back to Dora, his eyebrows furrowed at her soft rebuke.

"I know he is," he said defensively. "Usually anyway. He's been a bit of a handful today, however."

She shrugged as she took another sip from the styrofoam cup holding the dregs of her coffee. "We all have our moments. And I suspect that he got more of an eyeful than he bargained for in the hallway earlier."

Sighing, Remus nodded as he ran a hand down his face. Whether it was shock or just embarrassment, Harry clearly had been unnerved watching them kiss.

"That's probably true."

Dora put her cup down and reached out to take one of his hands, and to his shame he allowed the warm contact. The whole idea was highly improper, but there was just something about her. Something almost primal that appealed to the Moony part of him. If he'd been a more honest man, he would have admitted that the way she shaped her hand into a wolf's claw had stirred up a sense of wanting for the beast inside of him.

"I don't regret it, you know," she said, shaking him out of his tumultuous thoughts. "You'd see it too if you just let yourself."

"Dora," he began sadly, shaking his head, "you don't know what you're saying. You're a marvelous girl, and I'm not someone who is good for you."

Her hair flared red as she narrowed her eyes at him and pulled her hand away. Remus immediately regretted the loss of the comforting contact and he could almost hear Moony keening in head.

"I think I'm quite capable of knowing what is or is not good for me, Remus Lupin," she answered hotly. "You may only see me as Sirius' little cousin, but I'm a grown woman who can make decisions for herself, as well as being a fully trained auror who will easily kick your arse if you don't stop being such a bloody idiot."

"If only things were different..." he began.

"If only you weren't so much older," she said crossly. "If only my cousin wasn't your best friend. If only you weren't bitten as a child. If only I wasn't the most beautiful thing you ever laid your eyes on."

Remus couldn't help the smile that peeked out on his face at the last remark. She wasn't wrong.

"There are a lot of if onlys," she continued softly as she reached out to brush away some of his graying hair from his forehead. "We have to live the lives we are given, Wolfie."

And that, right there, was the problem.

Remus reached up to gently move her hand away from his face, giving it a little squeeze before he set it back on the table.

"But you see, I am."

Dora's face falling was the most painful thing he'd seen in a long time. But he couldn't help feeling that it was for the best.

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

Albus Dumbledore was having a bad day.

He stood at his window, his hands behind his back, and watched as a lone figure strode determinedly up the pathway from Hogsmeade towards the castle.

He'd been both dreading and looking forward to this meeting ever since receiving the note from Sirius stating that the younger man had finally agreed to speak with him after so many requests had been made. Sadly, Sirius absolutely refused to bring Harry along, and Albus could admit that he was rather disappointed by that, although he wasn't particularly surprised.

Andromeda Tonks made a point of informing Albus that Sirius had officially adopted Harry. Something the old wizard had been expecting to happen given how quickly the relationship between the two of them had strengthened in mutual love and affection since their first encounter last June. Of course, Sirius doted on Harry since the day he was born and had made no secret about it back then. After all, his well-known high regard for James and Lily's child was what made it even more difficult for others to understand how Sirius could betray the Potters so coldly when he'd always been so fiercely protective of the little family.

Sadly, they should have all listened to their instincts in that matter.

As for Harry, it wasn't a mystery as to why a child raised without love would firmly bond with a guardian finally willing to give it.

Albus' own quiet concern that Sirius had been irrevocably scarred by his time in Azkaban, so much so that raising a child without assistance would be potentially harmful to Harry, had been proven wholly unfounded as time went on. On the contrary, Harry had returned to Hogwarts for the start of his fourth year happier and healthier than Albus had ever seen him.

And didn't that just make the guilt the old wizard carried over placing the boy with his relatives even more heavy to bear.

Being who he was, Albus had already known about the adoption becoming official before Andromeda's slightly smug announcement at the staff table over lunch. As Chief Warlock, he was used to having many friendly ears at the Ministry who made him aware of any noteworthy events well in advance of them taking place.

The notorious Sirius Black adopting The Boy Who Lived, by Unbreakable Vow no less, was never going to remain a secret no matter how low key they tried to keep the ceremony.

It was the added detail of her being next in line as Harry's guardian in the event of Sirius' death that was new since Albus hadn't realized that the cousins were once again that close.

He was already disturbed enough over the blood charm being weakened by transferring its somewhat untested powers from Petunia Dursley to Sirius. There was still so much that modern wizardry didn't know or understand about an ancient magic like that. Theoretically it was possible for the charm to remain intact should it need to be passed on to Andromeda, as she was just as much James' cousin as Sirius was, but magic wasn't an exact science, and there were too many factors unknown for Albus' comfort.

Truthfully, it probably didn't even matter anymore.

Harry had needed the protection while living with his powerless Muggle relatives, but Sirius now had the boy locked down so tight that even Albus himself couldn't find them. He had to assume that if the worst should happen and Sirius fell, Andromeda would do the same. She was a Black too, after all, and formidable in her own right.

That was the thing about the Fidelius charm.

Albus could describe, in great detail, exactly what Celestial Court looked liked since he'd been there on more than one occasion, but now that he no longer knew the secret of its location, he could be standing right in front of it and never see the beautiful manor.

It made him feel slightly better about Harry's overall safety, but it still left him uncomfortably powerless to help them if something terrible were to happen.

The adoption ceremony had apparently been an intimate gathering for the same obvious security reasons, but Albus wasn't too proud to admit to being hurt that he wasn't included in the special day. Because, despite the rough patch he and Sirius were currently going through, he was still genuinely fond of both Sirius and Harry and mostly happy for them, even if the news also made him terribly sad.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was what James and Lily would have wanted for their son all along if someone had to raise their child besides themselves. No one knew that better than Albus himself who had fondly watched the relationship between James and Sirius only strengthen over the years. James quickly becoming closer to Sirius than the eldest Black son ever was to Regulus, his brother by blood.

Certainly much closer than Albus and his own brother Aberforth were to this day.

Despite the mischievous natures of the Potter and Black heirs, their fast friendship had provided each of the boys with something they'd never had before but desperately needed. In Sirius, James had found the sibling that his older parents had been unable to give him. His own birth being something of a miracle. And in James and the Potters, Sirius had been given a support system that allowed him to truly turn away from his family's dark nature.

Obvious affection and trust between the two young men aside, Albus would carry to his grave the guilt he felt over not trying harder to convince James and Lily to let him be their secret keeper over Sirius once he'd had to share the prophecy with them. At the time he'd felt that, while Sirius' heart might have been in the right place, and there was no denying that he was a powerful wizard for a young man his age, Sirius certainly wasn't talented enough to hold off Tom on his own when it came right down to a fight.

But James had been especially insistent. Being very clear to Albus that he had absolute faith that Sirius would sooner die than betray his friends, and reminding Albus that he himself was too urgently needed for other things in the war against Voldemort to concentrate on just protecting the Potters.

It was a losing battle, and eventually Abus had given in.

Then tragedy struck in the worst way possible and Albus had acted as he thought best, even as he grieved for all the young people involved that he cared for deeply.

After all he had been through and lost, Harry certainly deserved to finally have a happy and stable home, as well as a loving father to finish raising him. As for Sirius, that poor young man had suffered more than any one person should ever have to in his short life, no matter how much of it couldn't be helped at the time

The attack on Godric's Hollow left Albus quite sure that Tom wasn't entirely gone once he saw the state of the Potters' cottage and Harry's bleeding curse scar. Riddle was too devious and calculating to be disposed of that easily. Despite the wizarding world's joy that he appeared to be vanquished, Albus knew better than to have any faith in that assumption.

There was no body to be found and the filthy residue of an incredibly dark magic was permeating the air that Albus hadn't quite been able to put his finger on at the time. But what he was sure of was that Tom would certainly be back. It was only a matter of when.

Besides, even with the supposed defeat of the self-titled Dark Lord, there were still scores of his followers remaining who would certainly be looking for a little revenge against the infant that had miraculously thwarted him.

So Albus had done what needed to be done, making extremely hard choices and silently bearing the burden of them. Well aware of the unfortunate lives that he'd ultimately been responsible for consigning both Harry and Sirius to, but believing firmly that it was the right thing to do. Then two years ago Sirius had braved his escape, ultimately reunited with his godson and had his name cleared. Finally giving Harry the loving home the boy desperately longed for.

Of course Albus still cared for them both and wanted to see them happy, even if it did complicate matters.

But what's done was done, and it would be less than generous to see their newly forged family as anything less than a blessing for them. Really, when it came to Harry's adoption, Albus' new concern was what it would do to Sirius when ultimately the boy had to die to defeat Tom.

After all, Sirius had given every indication of going quite mad after James and Lily were murdered. His deranged laughter at the time of his arrest all but sealing his fate as the guilty party responsible for betraying them.

Would losing his son utterly destroy him to the point he became a shell of himself?

Or would Sirius, with his ancestors' traditions as black as their name, embark on a campaign of fury and revenge, his grief fueling an embrace of his family's dark practices and ultimately turning him into a bigger threat to the wizarding world than Voldemort himself?

Sighing deeply, Albus tried to push aside these troubling thoughts and continued to track Sirius' progress as the younger man stalked through the West Tower courtyard, his face a mask of concentration. Although Sirius was known for preferring to dress in Muggle fashion when he could, today he was clad in wizarding robes. Expensive and tailored for freedom of movement, Sirius looked every inch the pure-blood he was, as well as one who was ready to do battle if necessary.

It made Albus sad to think that he himself was being seen as the enemy in the younger man's eyes.

Not that he didn't deserve it. By now he was used to the people he cared about not understanding the hard choices he often had to make.

Very few people had proven to have Sirius' fortitude and strength of character during those dark days. It had taken guts and great personal sacrifice for the younger man to disobey and ignore his parents' wishes to serve Voldemort like his brother Regulus had. But Sirius, despite his mischievous ways, had been made of stronger stuff than his sibling, and he'd chosen to fight for the Light when the Dark would have been the easier path for him.

Albus admired him, really.

The scion of the wealthy and powerful Black family, he could have easily chosen to take a place at Riddle's right hand during the war. As a young wizard he'd been stronger and more talented with his magical gifts than either Lucius or Regulus. Certainly more mentally stable than Bellatrix, who had always been quite mad even as a young girl.

Sirius was as cunning as a Slytherin and as tenacious as any Gryffindor and it truly would have been a blow for the Light if he'd been named the Dark Lord's second in command.

It was his love for his friends and maturing sense of what was right and wrong that kept Sirius on the path for good over evil. His disdain for his darker family members that made him fight so ferociously against everything they stood for. Something that Albus himself had struggled with once upon a time, when he found himself easily swayed by a lust for power and the honeyed voice of a charismatic young man who still had a place in his heart regardless of all they had been through together.

Lost in thought, Albus was almost surprised by the shrill cry of Fawkes that alerted him to someone approaching his office. He blinked heavily, the veil of memories of yesteryear flitting back into the crevices of his mind where it usually lurked. He needed to have his full wits about him before his visitor arrived. Waving his hand towards the heavy door, it slowly opened, the stones scraping against each other not quite smooth even after centuries of use.

"Hello, Sirius."

Albus' voice was warm, almost successfully masking the sad undertones but not quite.

"Albus."

In contrast, Sirius was the picture of sangfroid. He wore his serenity like a shield, clearly the practiced result of his pure-blood upbringing which decried any outward sign of emotion. It was an odd look on the young man who'd never been afraid to show his anger or passion. Sirius' shoulders were set, but not entirely stiff. His hands clasped behind his back could be a resting pose, although Albus would bet every galleon he had that Sirius' long sleeves concealed wand holsters on both arms.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Albus said, breaking the ice. There was nothing in his tone but genuine happiness. "It's a boy."

A small smile flitted briefly on Sirius' lips as he wasn't quite capable of completely suppressing his immense joy.

"Yes," he nodded, his silver eyes shining. "Harry and I are very happy."

"I hope you know that I wish nothing but the best for you both."

Sirius gave the older man an assessing stare, as if it were a chore to discern whether or not there was an underlying meaning to his words. His lips pursed in thought for a brief second, most likely contemplating a derisive or heated rebuke to that statement, but his face quickly smoothed back out into a placid mask instead.

"Thank you."

The perfunctory response didn't fill Albus with any kind of hope that their conversation might take on some of their formerly amiable tones and it made him sigh in resignation. He supposed that his bridges with Sirius had been truly burned by this point, but as long as they could still maintain a civil air when it came to Harry then that was all that was required.

"How is Harry doing, may I ask?"

"He's safe," Sirius snapped a little more sharply than he intended to.

His own outburst seemed to have taken Sirius a bit by surprise as he drew in a deep breath. Albus made no response, allowing the younger man all the time he needed to collect himself. Sirius' reaction wasn't entirely without merit.

"Harry is doing very well, thank you," Sirius answered much more calmly after a few seconds. "Happy, healthy. Excelling in all his studies and preparing for the final Task of the blasted Tournament."

Albus smiled and reached over for one of the toffees in his candy dish, offering one to Sirius as well. The younger man held his hand up, declining, and Albus carefully unwrapped his sweet before popping it into his mouth. The soothing sugar crystals over his tongue tempering his response.

"I'm very glad to hear it," he said, once he'd swallowed. "Even with all the extra excitement around the castle this year, his presence at Hogwarts has been sorely missed by many."

"There are many things that Harry has missed as well," Sirius admitted as he took a seat across from Albus and folded his hands in his lap where his fingers could quickly grasp his wands. "Fortunately, he has some fine friends that didn't allow him to go entirely into seclusion."

"I don't think anyone was surprised by Miss Granger's and Mr. Weasley's departure once you'd decided to remove Harry from Hogwarts," Albus laughed softly, a fond twinkle in his eyes. "Mr. Longbottom, however, that was unexpected."

"Neville is exceptionally bright," Sirius defended the young man he'd grown to like so much. "He really is Frank and Alice's son in every way. He just needed professors to give him an extra boost of confidence. He does very well in my Potions class, despite Severus' insistence that he was hopeless."

Albus raised an eyebrow at the passive slight against his Potions Master. It was true that Severus didn't necessarily have an easy rapport with his students, but the young man certainly knew his stuff.

"I agree that some children blossom under more one-on-one conditions," he acknowledged. "At Hogwarts, sometimes we have to accept that the social atmosphere the school affords its students might have to compensate for the lack of individualized lesson plans. It's an imperfect system, but one I'm hoping you'll allow your son to return to, once the Tournament is over?"

Sirius shrugged. He wasn't here to discuss the pros and cons of institutional learning versus a home school environment. Each of them had their advantages and disadvantages. It was where Harry was safe that mattered.

At least Albus was finally acknowledging Sirius' new position in Harry's life.

"We haven't talked about it yet," he said airly, seemingly unbothered as he gazed out the window. "Harry is happy and thriving where he is at the moment. In fact, all of our students are doing well, personally and academically, and I've a fair few letters from other parents requesting that I accept their children for the next term. Perhaps you should concern yourself more with keeping the students you have now."

Sirius wasn't about to admit that a large share of the letters he received were obviously from parents who only wanted their children schooled where the famous Harry Potter was. That kind of obsequious behavior wasn't the environment he wanted to foster for his son.

There was one request for Xenophilius and Pandora's daughter that he'd wanted to accept, but ultimately he and Remus had agreed that it was far too close to the end of the school year to take Luna on. Especially as she was a year behind the others and would be alone for her lessons. Although, she was in the same year as Ginny Weasley, and Molly had mentioned that her daughter was now hinting that she too might like to leave Hogwarts as well.

They'd all discuss it more during the summer once Sirius decided on whether or not to continue Fulminare into the autumn.

Albus took the pointed critique in stride. He had no wish to quarrel with Sirius today, and quite frankly he had many things to put in order before his own time ran out. By this point next year, what he wanted for Hogwarts would no longer matter. He would be gone, and it would be Minerva's school then.

Besides, they had more important matters to discuss.

"Sirius," Albus said solemnly, the fond my boy that would have slipped off his tongue a month ago caught in his throat, "I can only hope that you've been considering the fact that the person who entered Harry's name in the Goblet is still out there somewhere. And with the final Task approaching..."

"Of course I've considered it!" Sirius hissed furiously as he narrowed his eyes at his former mentor. "It's practically all I do think about! Do you really believe that there is any tiny part of me that willingly wants to send my son into that bloody maze you're growing out there, when we are all but sure what will be awaiting him?"

"I know it's..." Albus began before being sharply shut down.

"You know nothing!" the younger man barked as he leaned forward in his seat, one hand slipping up his sleeve out of reflex. "If you think, for even one second, that this debacle isn't entirely your fault, then I'm sorry to say that you are sorely mistaken. Harry will go into that maze because magic demands it, but if I don't get my son back in pristine condition, then Merlin himself won't be able to hide you from me, Albus."

During Sirius' little tirade Albus sat calmly in his chair, the Elder Wand resting innocently several inches from his hand as to pose no threat. He didn't blame the younger man for his anger or his passion. Harry was obviously precious to his new father, and Albus had been a fool to allow the Tournament to come to Britain in the first place. A misguided plan to tempt the enemy into showing its face during an irresistibly prominent public event which, unfortunately, had come at the risk of a fourteen-year-old boy's life.

"If Harry doesn't come out of that maze intact, Sirius," Albus sighed wearily as he felt every day of his age, "you won't have to hunt me down. I'll surrender myself willingly."

The tired admission took some of the wind out of Sirius' sails. He'd never seen his former headmaster look quite so defeated and it gave him a moment of pause.

"Why did you ask me here?" he asked instead, needing to change the subject to something other than his son's potential demise.

Albus allowed the shift in conversation, as he had no interest in continuing down that particular path either. At this point, all he could do was hope that Sirius and Remus, and whoever else was allowed in their inner circle, were doing their best to prepare Harry for the upcoming challenges that he was facing in the Tournament. Albus himself would do what he could, but with no access to the boy's movements, what he could do for Harry was limited.

"I have a gift for Harry." Albus rose from his chair and walked over to a shelf on the wall behind his desk where he retrieved a small box. "I'd hoped to give it to him in person, but..."

Sirius rolled his eyes but held his tongue. He wasn't comfortable bringing Harry onto Hogwarts ground just yet, so he'd come alone to say his piece, and now that he had, he simply wasn't interested in prolonging the argument. Especially after catching a glimpse of the blackening skin of Albus' right hand that the older wizard had failed to completely conceal as he stood.

"Harry knows," he said quietly, a small fragment of former affection for his old mentor rearing up inside of him. "About your accident. He knows."

Albus, realizing his carelessness, let out a little chuckle as he turned back around and lifted his hand to give Sirius a better glimpse of the ruined skin.

"Old age is no protection against foolishness, I'm afraid" he said with a small smile as he walked back over to his desk and placed the item in front of the younger man. "We all have our moments of weakness and regret, Sirius. I can only hope that others learn from my mistakes."

"He feels very badly," Sirius continued, his own feelings very conflicted after seeing the visual proof of the formidable headmaster's inevitable demise. "Despite everything else, Harry does really care about you."

Albus' eyes lost their twinkle as the sadness overcame him and he retook his seat, his shoulders sagging more than a bit under the heavy fabric of his pale blue robe.

"And I, him," he uttered almost as a whisper as Sirius took the box into his hands.

"I'm sure you understand that I can't just take this back to my son without knowing what it contains?"

Sirius looked up at the headmaster, his eyebrow raised in a challenge, despite the conciliatory tone of their previous exchange. Nothing would induce him to endanger Harry's safety, and he didn't trust the older wizard enough any longer to take something on faith alone. Albus nodded his consent and Sirius removed the lid of the box to see the glinting gold of a snitch nestled inside.

"A snitch?"

"Not just any snitch," Albus smiled in that enigmatic and mildly infuriating way of his. "This is the snitch that Harry caught during his first game as Gryffindor's seeker. I thought he might like to have it. It really is quite special if you look closely enough."

Sirius wasn't foolish enough to think that was all there was to it. The headmaster rarely did anything without an ulterior motive. But he wasn't going to deprive Harry of a keepsake that might be important to him either. It would be no trouble for Sirius and Remus to test it thoroughly before giving it to his son.

"I'll be sure he gets it, then."

He stood, clearly indicating that Albus' time was up. The older wizard nodded, contenting himself that at least part of his mission for today was set in motion. Once Sirius gave the snitch to Harry, the boy would possess two of the Hallows, and when the time was right, Albus would make sure that he had the third as well.

Hopefully Harry would use them for far better reasons than Albus ever intended to himself.

"Thank you for coming today, Sirius. And please give Harry my best regards."

"I'll do that," Sirius consented. There was no point in drawing out this visit any longer or further expressing his displeasure with the headmaster. By the looks of how fast that dark curse seemed to be spreading, Albus was already well on his way towards paying the ultimate price for any prior misdeeds. "Take care of yourself, Albus."

The old headmaster smiled, the twinkle in his eye all but gone as he waved his hand to open the door for his departing guest and Sirius strode back out into the corridor, head held high and shoulders strong, without another glance.

If Albus wasn't so worried about what could happen to the younger man when he was no longer around to intervene, he might have even been proud.

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

Harry Potter was having a bad day.

While Remus and Tonks were talking quietly amongst themselves, Ron had won the battle over the crisps bag and was currently crunching loudly in Harry's ear as Harry scrolled through the vehicle options for the next race.

He scowled in disgust over the obnoxious noise and shoved his friend over a few inches, gagging slightly when Ron retaliated by burping triumphantly in his face. Even though he was fairly used to his best mate's messy eating habits by now it didn't mean that he didn't still get grossed out sometimes. Between them lay a pile of mostly empty crisps bags and candy wrappers that they had purchased on their way back to the flat last night. There were also still one or two fizzy drinks on the table in front of them, of which Ron had already claimed and was drinking the one Harry had specifically picked out.

Although they had just finished a good breakfast, the more Harry woke up, the hungrier he was feeling and he'd been counting on having some of the snacks before Ron started in on them.

"You're getting it all grubby," the dark haired boy whinged irritably as he looked at the smudges on Ron's game controller. "At least clean your hands before you use it."

Since his father seemed intent on lavishing him with pricey presents, just like Uncle Vernon had always done with Dudley, Harry was determined to keep his new things looking nice. But unlike his ungrateful cousin, Harry planned on proving to Sirius that he appreciated what he was given by taking meticulous care of them. He'd never have a room filled with broken and discarded toys like his old bedroom at Privet Drive.

He ignored the voice inside of him that suggested that he himself had been just another unloved item that was tossed away in that room.

Ron rolled his eyes and obligingly wiped his greasy, salty fingers on his trousers. He didn't see what the big deal was when they could just use a simple scourgify to tidy everything back up when they were done.

"You're sounding more and more like Hermione every day, you know."

Shrugging, Harry made his vehicle selection on the screen and then waited as Ron began his own search. He knew it would only cause a row between him and his friend if he said out loud that he didn't always think Hermione was wrong about Ron's messy ways.

"Papa paid a lot of money for this," he pointed out unnecessarily as both boys knew very well how expensive the gaming system was. "I don't want him getting cross if he thinks I'm not taking care of it."

Despite Harry's rebuke, Ron tried to not show he was jealous of his friend's pricey gifts but it was a bit hard. It wasn't that he begrudged Harry the things that Sirius had bought his new son, especially since treats from his own parents had become much more common now that they weren't struggling as much financially with Molly teaching and Ron being the only child home with them regularly.

Ron was just a typical teenage boy. A bit like his father in being fascinated by some of the Muggle technical inventions, even though he still firmly proclaimed that everything was better in the wizarding world.

Wanting to change the subject, the redhead cast a glance over his shoulder to where Remus and Tonks were talking quietly at the table.

"Tonks is alright looking, don't you think?" he said. "Except for the weird hair color."

Harry took a glance of his own at the bubblegum pink mane that the friendly metamorphmagus was currently sporting and thought to himself that she looked rather pretty, actually. Turning back around, he shrugged.

"I don't know. I think it's alright. It suits her."

"Remus seems to think so," Ron snickered, taking another look to see the werewolf smiling as Tonks brushed her fingers through his hair. "Hasn't taken his eyes off her since she got here, has he."

Affecting an air of nonchalance, Harry shrugged again, his mouth tightening slightly. He wasn't about to admit that he wasn't necessarily pleased by the burgeoning friendship between his new godfather and his new godmother's daughter.

"He's too old for her," he said instead, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. "She needs someone her own age."

Ron didn't catch the note of annoyance in Harry's voice as he made that statement, oblivious to his friend getting increasingly more riled. He took a noisy swig from his fizzy drink and nudged Harry's arm with a smirk on his face.

"Her age doesn't matter though, does it?" he suggested playfully. "With that kind of talent, she could be any age she wanted to be. Any person she wanted to be, actually. It'd be kind of cool, don't you think? Having a girlfriend that can change into whatever you like? With her, you could be with a different woman every night, but never get in trouble for it."

Insulted on Tonks' behalf, Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend's rude insinuation.

"That's an awful thing to say," he hissed under his breath as Ron smirked at him. "Why would she want to be with a bloke that wanted someone else anyway? She's just fine the way she is."

Ron laughed even harder at Harry's scowl. Normally his friend was so laid back about things, and almost painfully shy when it came to the opposite sex, so to see him get so defensive of the young woman that his face was flushing pink amused Ron greatly.

He let Harry glower for another minute while he took his time scrolling through the vehicle options of the game intentionally slowly. Harry let out an agitated huff and crossed his arms, but Ron just chuckled under his breath and made a big show over weighing the benefits of each model before leaning over to nudge him again.

"I bet she can change everything," he insinuated lasciviously as he subtly indicated the area below his waist. "I wonder what that'd be like. Do you think she could..."

Harry's face went completely red, his green eyes blinking rapidly as he gulped. He was half mortified, half furious, too stunned to give his tacky friend the earful he deserved before both boys heard an extremely displeased throat clearing behind them.

"I'd hold my thought right there, if I were you, Mr. Weasley," Remus growled next to their ears. "I doubt your mother would approve of hearing you talk like that."

Ron's mouth snapped shut so fast you could hear his teeth crash together painfully. Blushing all the way up to his hairline, the redhead gulped nervously while Harry sunk further in his seat, unable to look his godfather in the face.

"I don't think your father would be too pleased either, Harry James. Do you?"

Harry shook his head shamefully. Sirius would have absolutely no tolerance for Harry participating in such a disrespectful conversation about his cousin. It didn't matter that Harry wasn't the one to make the comment. He hadn't stopped Ron from being so vulgar..

"No, sir," he whispered quietly.

Remus glared hotly at the boys for another moment, allowing them to squirm underneath his displeasure.

What none of them knew was that Dora was fighting to control a laugh. She was used to similar comments being made by randy pubescent boys from her Hogwarts years, but not one to ever be messed about with, verbally or magically, she'd always made short work of putting the horny, curious teens back in their places and they never made the mistake again.

Besides, right now she was secretly pleased with how vigorously Remus seemed to be defending her honor, despite his earlier rejection of her.

"Dora and I are going back to the chateau for a few minutes to look for some books for your training, Harry," Remus continued, his voice sharp. "We won't be gone long, but if you need us, or anything happens here, you floo home immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, still not looking up. Next to him, Ron did the same.

Remus waited another few seconds to make sure his instructions sunk in before turning and walking over to the floo with Dora. With a couple of green fire flashes, they were gone.

"Yeah, I'll bet they're looking for books," Ron laughed. "That's definitely code for we're going to shag while no one's home."

Harry's face burned as he pushed some of the mess of empty bags and wrappers away from his side of the sofa and back onto Ron's. "Will you shut it, already!"

Ron's amused sneer disappeared as he scowled and shoved back.

"What crawled up your arse and died this morning?"

"Maybe I'm sick of hearing you go on and on about Tonk' sex life," Harry retorted hotly as he crossed his arms. "It's disgusting, by the way."

Taken aback by the ferociousness of his friend's response, Ron just shook his head. "I'm just having a laugh, and you know that. But you've been a git since you woke up."

Harry fumed silently, but he couldn't deny Ron's statement. It was true that there was no part of him that wanted to get up after their late night, and having his father cast a Rictusempra hadn't been at all fair. Especially when it made Harry laugh so hard that he fell out of his bed and onto the hard floor where he painfully whacked his shin.

Sure, Papa had felt terrible that his little prank had gone wrong and he'd immediately healed it before Harry could even begin to bruise, but still.

That would have been enough to make him slightly grumpy, but then to have the fright of someone potentially attacking the flat had unnerved Harry, and he resented being kept behind a closed door like a child while his father went to fight. He was perfectly capable of defending himself, and he didn't appreciate the fact that Sirius didn't seem to be of the same opinion.

Seeing Tonks snog Remus didn't help either.

And of course Remus had to go and tell him off in front of everyone, when it was none of the man's business why Harry was out of sorts. Talking about Harry's upbringing, as if the Dursleys weren't the worst people ever, was just the cherry on top of a bad morning sundae.

Harry knew before he even opened his mouth that his father wasn't going to put up with much more nonsense from him but he couldn't help himself, and he still resented getting hauled out of the room for a scolding.

It also wasn't the smartest idea to tell his father to sod off when the man was already in a mood.

Frankly, Harry was surprised that he'd only gotten the one smack, but given how much strength his father had put behind it, it was probably was lucky that there hadn't been a second one.

But then Sirius had put his favorite breakfast in front of him, despite Harry acting like a little wanker all morning, and now he was drowning in guilt over giving his father such a hard time. He sighed as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was going to be a while before his father came back, and all Harry wanted to do was give him a hug and apologize for being such a pain as a son.

"You know," Ron said, shaking his head, "they way you talk about Tonks, anyone would think you fancied her."

For a split second Harry froze like a deer caught in the headlights. He could feel the tips of his ears burning as his heart beat a little faster, but he didn't want Ron to see his embarrassment, so he crossed his arms and turned away.

"Don't be stupid."

Ron just chuckled again, enjoying teasing his mate. He wasn't actually being serious when he made the comment. Just trying to take the mickey since Harry had been cranky today and easy to wind up. But when the other boy refused to make eye contact, Ron suddenly realized that maybe his comment hadn't been all that far off from the truth.

"You do," he said, sudden realization washing over him. "You like Tonks!"

Far too amused over this, the redhead threw his head back and laughed, especially since Harry was getting more tense by the second and determinedly staring at the wall off to his side instead of looking a Ron.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry growled, shaking his head. "That's absurd."

But Ron wasn't going to be deterred. He knew he was correct in his assumption and he was making it his mission to get Harry to admit it. It wasn't a crime after all. Tonks, while older than they were, was a bit of all right. There was no reason for Harry to be spiky about it.

"C'mon, mate," he cajoled, nudging Harry's stiff shoulder, "there's no shame in it. It's not like you're mooning over Eloise Midgen or anything."

Harry grimaced a little over the reference to the Gryffindor girl with the horrible acne problem, but he was unwilling to give Ron the satisfaction of being right.

Ron smirked, enjoying the way he was unnerving his friend. Harry took himself far too seriously most of the time, which wasn't exactly his fault with everything that always seemed to happen to him, but Ron really wished that he'd just loosen up a little.

"Well," he continued in amusement, "at least I know why you were being a prat earlier. It couldn't have been much fun to walk out and see Remus and Tonks snogging."

He shrugged and rummaged around in the snack pile until he found the rest of a half-eaten packet of fruit pastilles and shook them out into his mouth, chewing loudly.

Harry had just about enough.

"Hermione's right," he snapped, turning around at the noise and his eyes narrowed in anger. "You never stop eating. Did you even leave anything for me?"

Ron stopped chewing, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he saw the furious look on his friend's face that didn't seem to be at all kidding. "Mmm..."

In a bit of fit now, Harry huffed as he shoved the empty bags and wrappers to the floor, as well as sweeping the empty bottles from the table and making quite a mess as he stood up abruptly. His earlier temper was back with a vengeance and he was feeling more than a little claustrophobic in the flat at the moment.

"I'm going down to the shop and getting some more, since some git doesn't like to share."

Before Ron could protest, Harry stomped off to his room to change out of his pajamas. He slammed the door hard behind him as he dragged his sleep shirt off and threw it on the bed before rooting around the middle drawer of the bureau for one of his new pullovers. Grabbing the first one he laid his hands on, he angrily slammed the drawer shut and shimmied out of his pajama bottoms that he kicked off to the side.

"Harry?"

Ron was knocking on the bedroom door and Harry's eyes flared, since he didn't really want to speak to his inconsiderate friend at the moment. But he was at least honest enough to realize that it wasn't really Ron that he was mad at.

"What?"

There was a brief pause before Ron worked up the nerve to speak again.

"Look mate," he mumbled through the door, "I'm sorry. Can I come in?"

Harry took a deep calming breath and nodded even though Ron couldn't see him do it. "Yeah. Fine."

As Ron slowly opened the door to walk inside, Harry reached for the jeans he'd worn yesterday which were draped over the desk chair. It didn't matter that Harry was just in his pants when his friend came in. There was nothing to be modest about. He and Ron had lived together for years and there's precious little privacy in a shared dorm at school.

"Are you really going out?"

Ron looked worried when he saw that Harry was serious and putting on street clothes. Not that they had planned to spend the day lounging in pajamas or anything, but the redhead had a feeling that Sirius wouldn't be pleased by Harry leaving the flat without permission.

"Yep," Harry answered, emphasizing the 'p' with a pop as he donned the dark blue pullover. "It's no big deal. There's a Tesco Express right around the corner. I'll be back in no time."'

"Shouldn't you wait at least until Remus and Tonks are back?" Ron insisted, knowing that Harry was acting rashly. "They'll probably be here any minute."

Harry scowled at the mention of them and Ron grimaced because he'd forgotten for just a second what had started this all in the first place.

"No," Harry scoffed as he slipped on his trainers. "Like you said, they're probably shagging on every flat surface in my house, so I don't think I'll wait for them to finish that, if it's all the same to you."

"Okay," Ron agreed, feeling quite guilty. He held up his hands to stop Harry from exiting the room. "Just...just wait right here for second, alright? I'll go with you. Just let me get changed."

Harry crossed his arms and sighed, but he didn't try to move any closer to the door. "Fine. Just hurry up."

Acknowledging that Harry wasn't likely to wait long, Ron nodded and dashed out to the room he was using and hurriedly threw on some clothes. By the time he was lacing up his trainer and hop-skipping out to the living room, Harry was already waiting impatiently by the door.

They took the lift down to the ground floor and skirted by the building concierge who was busy with a package delivery for another resident. Harry pushed open the heavy steel and glass door to the street and the two boys turned to the right and blended in with the sidewalk traffic as they made their way to the shop. At the corner they waited for the crossing signal to flash and then trotted across the street and into the open doors of the Tesco Express.

For just a brief second, both boys stood and just looked around.

Ron, because Muggle shops looked very different from the ones in the wizarding world. It was still hard for him to get used to all the merchandise sitting motionless on the shelves when he'd always seen things dangling in the air or floating from one counter to the other. And Harry, because it was still a novelty for him to be inside a store that he'd been around all his life and actually have the ability to purchase something.

Growing up, he'd been dragged to the market on several occasions with Aunt Petunia and occasionally Dudley. But there were firm rules in place about not touching anything and definitely not asking for anything. Not Dudley, of course. All he had to do was whinge about an item and into the cart it went. But Harry wasn't even allowed to speak, let alone express a desire for a treat.

That was all in the past now.

In one pocket of Harry's jeans was his Muggle wallet filled with pound notes of several denominations, and in his other was a pile of coins that was so heavy it was probably tearing the fabric.

In other words, Harry could buy whatever he liked.

It wasn't often that he was anywhere without his father, no matter where they were, and Sirius always paid for everything, so the generous weekly allowance that he gave Harry was rarely spent. Harry didn't really need much most of the time anyway, and he was so used to doing without that he usually just did. And once they'd started the new school and incorporated Muggle Thursdays into the schedule, Sirius had then switched to giving Harry his allowance in pounds instead of galleons, just so his son had as much freedom to make as many purchases as he wanted.

On the few occasions that Harry had been in a Muggle shop since he began living with Sirius, they'd always been together and Harry had been quick to grab a couple of things he wanted and they'd been in and out like a flash. But today, Harry was feeling especially out of sorts with the world at large and he decided that it was time he just treated himself for a change.

"Do you know what you want?"

Harry turned to look at Ron who was staring at him with inquiring eyes and looking a little fidgety.

"No," Harry shook his head. "I'm going to wander around for a bit and see if there's anything new to try. Meet you at the counter?"

"Nah," Ron shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "I've only got our kind of money on me," he said quietly. "But I don't need anything anyway."

For a moment Harry forgot his earlier irritation with his friend. Ron had such a hang up about finances and more than once it had gotten in the way of their relationship. At least now Harry didn't worry for the other boy's pride so much. With a second income in their home, Ron had been steadily getting pocket money as well and he seemed to be much more careful with how he spent it, so he was never flat when they were out and about.

"Get what you want," Harry decided, giving Ron's shoulder a little nudge with his own. I've got enough on me for the both of us."

Ron's forehead wrinkled as he looked at Harry for a second before nodding. "Okay. But only if you let me pay you back when we're back at the flat."

"Deal," Harry agreed, even though he hated the idea when he had so much he couldn't possibly spend it all. But he wasn't about to start a row with Ron over it either.

With that, Ron took off for the drinks cooler while Harry ambled towards the crisps. Ignoring the other shoppers around him, he stood silently in front a huge display, the multicolored bags neatly arranged in rows looking like an edible rainbow. It was incredible, the variety of snack food in the Muggle world. He'd gone to the shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade too on several occasions, and while their wares were far more fanciful, there was definitely a limit on type.

He remembered all the times when he'd looked longingly at the displays in the neighborhood market while Aunt Petunia pushed the cart around. When he was still too young to be there on his own running errands for her, he'd always been made to hold onto the cart since she didn't trust him to not wander off and cause trouble.

It was laughable really, because it had never been Harry who ran through the aisles yelling like a banshee or making a mess that needed to be paid for, but that didn't seem to matter to her.

There was simply too much to try here, so Harry nodded to himself and walked back up to the front of the store to retrieve a shopping basket and then impulsively grabbed two instead. With every intention of filling them both.

As he leisurely roamed through the aisles and added a bit here and a bit there to his baskets, Harry smiled to himself, recalling how pleased he felt that first day on the Express when he bought the lot from the Trolley Lady. It had been the first time in his life that he'd been able to splurge on something, and the fact that he was able to treat a friendly boy who looked longingly at the cart but clearly couldn't buy had only made the experience all the sweeter.

Because Harry himself had been that boy long before he ever met Ron Weasley.

For the first time all day, Harry was in a cheerful mood.

Which was unfortunate.

Time had slipped by very quickly while he was enjoying the freedom of a shopping excursion with full pockets, and as he was perusing the wide variety of Cadbury chocolates, Remus was back at the flat casting a frantic patronus.

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

Sirius Black was having a bad day.

Glad to be done with his meeting with Albus, he was making his way determinedly down the path towards Hogsmeade with a mind to stop in at Honeydukes to buy a selection of sweets for Harry before saying a quick hello to Rosemerta at The Three Broomsticks and then apparating back to the flat. It was his hope that the peace offering for his son would put them back on pleasant footing after this morning's drama.

Sirius admitted that he woke up a little cranky himself. He'd had another sleepless night, no surprise there. But there was something infinitely better about losing a few winks because your son was making a racket in the living room with his best friend and having a grand time instead of either of them being overcome with night terrors.

As much as listening to Harry being happy made Sirius happy, it didn't mean that the lack of shuteye felt any better than it normally did.

The morning had gotten off to a slow start, which was rather unusual for him these days considering that almost every waking moment was spent either doing school-related business or training his son for that Merlin-awful Tournament. At first he thought it would be nice to have a bit of a lie-in and then a casual coffee without all the constant pressures weighing down on him.

But then he and Remus had a spat, which was not Sirius' intention at all. He just got so tired of hearing his friend tear himself down.

It didn't help when Remus took a shot at Sirius' own love life.

Telling Remus that he didn't understand the position that Sirius was in would be a terrible cliche. Especially since Remus could say the same to him. But Sirius wasn't going to apologize for putting Harry first after everything that the boy had been through. It wasn't a choice Sirius made for himself, but one for his son.

Remus didn't have a son.

While that wasn't completely his fault, it also kind of was. Because he could have chosen to find a woman who accepted him and his furry little problem, but instead he chose to hide himself away. And Sirius wasn't surprised by that, since he also knew that after that terrible Halloween night all those years ago, Remus didn't even visit with his own father anymore right up until Lyall died. Citing a desire to not cause anymore heartbreak or distress to a loved one when there was absolutely no reason to think that way.

It was a poor excuse at best, especially since Sirius knew how much guilt Remus' father carried over his son's condition.

Then Harry had woken up in a foul mood which didn't help the atmosphere at the flat. It was very unlike his son to be so contrary and petulant, and if Sirius hadn't spent the better part of the prior week working up the will to meet with Albus, he would have just called the whole thing off to stay at home where he belonged and figure out what was wrong with his kid.

Instead one problem rolled into another and it had just been a snowball of a morning.

Now at least he could put the confrontation with Albus behind him, and really he was more than a bit annoyed about being summoned to Hogwarts for a snitch of all things. But he also knew that, with Albus being as mysterious as he was, it wasn't any kind of ordinary snitch. So there was that to worry about before he gave it to Harry and he found himself thinking that a little visit with the real Alastor Moody was probably long overdue.

But most of all he felt bad about locking horns with his child earlier, and while Harry had definitely deserved the smack he got, since it was never going to be okay for him to be so disrespectful to Sirius, it didn't mean that Sirius didn't feel terrible about doling it out.

Hence the bag of sweets.

Picking up his pace, Sirius strolled briskly along the pathway around the Black Lake, suppressing a shudder from the memory of the Second Task. It was never himself he was worried about, but Harry had been frantic by his disappearance, and you often make foolish mistakes when you were under duress. Thankfully his son had kept his head and triumphed quite splendidly, but it really could have gone very much in the opposite direction.

At the rate he was walking, it only took a few minutes to reach the outskirts of the little wizarding village and the sight of the Shrieking Shack just had him annoyed again with Remus. Not that it was truly any of Sirius' business what his friend did with his personal life, but to watch Remus throw away even the possibility of something more with a woman made him exceptionally frustrated because really Remus deserved all the happiness he could get.

It had Sirius thinking about whether or not it would be a good idea for him to have his own conversation with Nymphadora, when suddenly a shimmering silver form of a wolf came speeding towards him. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, because he knew Moony as well as he knew Padfoot, even from a distance, and the patronus finding itself all the way out here was absolutely not a good thing.

"Sirius, come home. The boys are missing."

Sirius' heart dropped into his stomach as the immediate panic he felt paralyzed him for a second. It was his absolute worst nightmare come true. He didn't have time to think.

Didn't even have time to breathe.

His auror training took completely over, his base instinct and magic kicking in without conscious thought, and Sirius turned on the spot and was gone.

He arrived seconds later in the very center of the flat's living room, his appearance jolting Remus who stepped back in surprise. Immediately Sirius was casting wild glances around the room, somehow hoping that he'd see his child right where he should be even though his common sense told him that he wouldn't. In the background, the annoyingly chipper music of the video game that was still running streamed through the room and set his teeth on edge because Harry wasn't right there playing it.

"What happened?" he demanded in a strangled voice when his search proved fruitless.

"I don't know," Remus admitted as he nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Dora and I were only gone for a few moments, but when we came back there was no one here. Their game was still playing, but by the look of the mess around the sofa, it almost looks like a struggle happened there. I cast Homenum Revelio but there was nothing."

Sirius whirled around and pinned Remus with a ferocious glare that made even the werewolf step back an inch.

"What do you mean you were gone?"

Sirius was shaking with a fury that was only being held in check by the stronger fear that was choking him. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. We went to the manor," Remus answered remorsefully. "Dora wanted to to read through some of our research material on prior Tournaments so she would have a better idea of some of the defensive moves the two of you have been working on when she comes over to help train Harry this week."

"Are you sure that's the only reason you were there?" Sirius snapped bitterly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Remus' eyes narrowed at the accusation. "Do you really think so poorly of me? Or of Dora? We were trying to do something to help your son."

"Well you would have helped him more by staying here and keeping an eye on him!" Sirius shouted, not caring who could hear him. "Not by going off and gallivanting with my cousin. I trusted you to be here, Remus!"

Without a good response to that, Remus simply nodded. "You're right. It was a terrible mistake, and when we find the boys you can say whatever you like to me. But now is not the time."

"I can't believe you," Sirius spat out as he stormed past Remus, sharply knocking Remus' shoulder with his own as he thundered down the hall towards Harry's room.

He wasn't expecting to find anyone in his son's bedroom either but he needed to look. The picture of himself with James that Harry had placed on top of his bureau seemed to mock Sirius. As if James was staring accusingly at him for failing to take adequate care of their son. The irony of that was not lost on Sirius when he thought about how smugly he'd bragged to Albus about how Harry was better off at home than at Hogwarts.

As hard as Sirius had tried, it seemed he did no better than the old headmaster.

Under other circumstances, he might have just dropped down on Harry's bed and wallowed in his misery over flaunting his undeserved pride, but then Sirius caught a glimpse of Harry's sleep shirt lying there and his heart leaped.

Surely, if anything bad had befallen his son, Harry wouldn't have had time to change his clothes?

Picking the shirt up, as it was his only tie to his child at the moment, he barreled back into the living room to see that Dora was there as well now. His anger flared up when he saw her patting Remus on the back in comfort. As if it wasn't Sirius' son who was missing.

"Nice to see you, Nymphadora," he growled sarcastically. "Did you enjoy your little adventure while my son vanished?"

"I went down to the lobby to see if the concierge had seen them," she informed him sharply. "According to him, the boys never left the building."

"And they didn't use the floo either."

Remus' quiet comment was barely heard over the sound of blood rushing through Sirius' ears as his heart rate sped up. He couldn't allow himself to fall apart right now when Harry needed him.

"Well," he gritted out through his clenched teeth as he tossed Harry's shirt to Remus, " they changed their clothes. At least Harry did, and if I know my son he would have needed a reason when he didn't have to be anywhere."

Motioning the other two away from him, Sirius pulled out his wand and crouched closer to the ground.

"Appare Vestigium!"

Moving swiftly in a circle, Sirius' wand spread a fine gold dust around the room that caused the lights in the flat to go absolutely haywire, with one of the bulbs in the ceiling fixture above the dining table loudly exploding in a spray of sparks. He didn't care if he took out the electricity of the entire damn building with his spell. All he cared about was the glowing outline of footprints that appeared all over the floor.

It was easy to track his own and Remus' since they hadn't changed all that much from the days when the Marauder's used a version of this spell to make the map. Dora's were obviously the narrow and petite prints of a woman. It was the two sets of tracks made by someone who was not yet an adult that he concerned himself with. The relief over not seeing an unknown additional pair or two had Sirius practically dropping to he knees in gratitude. He followed Harry and Ron's tracks from the living room to the bedrooms and then back out again.

All the way to the front door.

Standing back up abruptly, Sirius stashed his wand back into his holster.

"For whatever reason they went out the door," he informed the others curtly. "Do you think it would be possible for the two of you to keep your hands off of each other long enough to stand guard here while I go out and look for my kid in case, by some miracle, they come back?"

"Sirius, that's not fair," Remus protested. "I would never..."

"Please just spare me the excuses, Remus!" Sirius shouted, all pretense about keeping his cool well and truly gone. "I don't particularly care what you choose to do with your time unless it's when you're supposed to be keeping an eye on your godson."

"We were keeping an eye on the boys!" Dora shot back hotly. "We told them where we were going and to floo right to the manor if they needed to. It's not like they're toddlers, Sirius. This flat is warded so heavily I can barely see it and I know it's here! They were safe!"

"You don't get it, Nymphadora!" he seethed. "Nowhere is ever safe enough when it comes to Harry. You hear me? Nowhere! Every time we think he's fine and protected, something terrible happens. So, please. Don't tell me that my son was safe."

In the middle of Sirius' rant, the front door banged open as Harry and Ron came in, bickering loudly and laden down with heavy plastic sacks filled with crisps and sweets. The three adults halted their furious exchanges in mid-sentence, momentarily stunned by the surprise arrival of the children they were so frantic over.

Not surprisingly, Sirius recovered first, making his way to his son so quickly that one would have been forgiven for thinking he'd apparated over to the door.

"Harry!"

The word burst out of his chest, half relief, half exasperation as the worried father grabbed his kid into a tight embrace. Shocked, both by the manner of the greeting and his father's early arrival, Harry's jaw dropped open and the bags he'd been carrying spilled to the floor in a messy heap. Sirius' arms around him were trembling slightly and Harry reflexively raised his own and returned the hug without conscious thought since clearly his father was distressed.

Remus was still silent, the dressing down he'd received from his friend bothering him greatly in more ways than one, but Dora had no such reticence. She put her hands on her hips in a manner very reminiscent of Molly Weasley as she glared at the teenagers, who didn't look as if they'd been in any sort of danger.

"Where have you two been?" she demanded, her tone icy. "Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused here?"

Standing behind Harry, Ron squeaked at the sharp rebuke and began to stutter out an incomprehensible explanation before Sirius pulled back from his son and gave Harry a thorough once-over, making sure his child wasn't hurt in any way.

"We just popped down to the shop next door," Harry tried to explain, growing even more uneasy as his father's fear-filled eyes continued to assess him. "I was still hungry and there's no food in our kitchen here, so we just..."

Realizing that any reprimand was entirely up to her, considering the continued silence of the two men, Dora's ire continued to build and the volume of her scolding increased.

"And it didn't occur to either of you nitwits to leave a note? Or, better yet, wait for us to return and ask for permission to go out?"

"I didn't think we'd be gone all that long," Harry said apologetically, looking directly at his upset father instead of the metamorphmagus. "Honestly, Papa, I thought it would be five minutes, tops."

"That's not the point," Remus snapped irritably, finally finding his voice and braving Sirius' wrath to deliver a reprimand of his own. "You should never have left the flat, period! We were worried sick. I had to summon Sirius..."

Harry's face was burning a deep red from the scolding and Sirius' distress as he ducked his head to keep anyone from seeing how his eyes had begun to well up. Not quite fast enough to fool his father, however.

"Enough, Remus," Sirius barked, throwing his friend a glare. Now that he knew Harry was okay, he couldn't bear to see his son growing more upset by the second, and what's more Sirius was still furious with the other man's carelessness in his duties as minder. "This wouldn't have happened in the first place if you'd been here like you were supposed to be."

Harry was shocked by the icy tone in his father's voice and it had him feeling exceptionally guilty that he'd caused friction between his father and godfather. It wasn't fair for Remus to be blamed just because Harry had decided to take advantage of his absence to go outside.

"It's not his fault," the boy protested before clamping his mouth shut when Sirius leveled him with a glare.

"I'd worry about myself right now, if I were you, young man," Sirius warned his kid in a low tone before directing his fury back on the other man. "Can I at least trust you to see Ron home safely? Or are you too busy with my cousin for that as well?"

The censure made Remus flinch, and Dora, her hair shimmering into a bright red color, glowered at Sirius but he wasn't even close to calming down as he turned back to the boys.

"Ron, it's time for you to go home. Now. Go and collect your things please," Sirius said sharply, making the redhead bolt for the room he was using at the flat. "And you," he growled at his son, "go wait for me in your room. I'll be along to deal with you directly."

Upset and embarrassed, Harry threw Remus and Dora an apologetic look before obeying silently, knowing that anything thing he said would only enrage his father even more. He quickly skirted past Sirius, profoundly grateful that his father didn't take the opportunity to swat him again, this time in front of everyone else as that would have made his mortification complete. Shuffling off to the room that used to be his Dad's, the morose boy went in, shutting the door behind him as softly as he could and then dropped dejectedly on the bed.

Scurrying back into the living room with his overnight bag, Ron braved the storm in Sirius' eyes because he felt like he should try and say something to defend his friend. He'd known it was a bad idea from the beginning since it wasn't a secret how strict Harry's father could be about his whereabouts, and the redhead couldn't help feeling guilty that the only reason they'd gone to the shop in the first place was because he'd pushed Harry too far with all his teasing.

"It was my fault," he apologized as steadily as he could under Sirius' furious glare. "I was taking the mickey out of Harry and he got mad and wanted to get some air. If I hadn't, he never would have left. It's just, you see he kept beating me at racing and..."

Sirius held his hand up, effectively stopping the boy's nervous rambling.

"Harry knows the rules, Ron," the annoyed father said sternly. "And after all this time, I think you do too. There's no going out into London on your own. Especially when no one knows where you are. Is there?"

"No, sir," Ron muttered, hanging his head, his face going as red as his hair from the scolding.

"No," Sirius agreed, crossing his arms. "I need to be able to trust the two of you to be where you're supposed to be when I'm not around, and wandering off like you did today does not help."

Head bowed as he endured the sharp reprimand, Ron looked like a kicked puppy, and knowing how badly the boy often got scolded by his Mum, Sirius' heart softened just a bit.

He wasn't a bad lad, all things considered. A bit lazy and occasionally hit with a flash of jealousy and resentment. But overall a fierce friend who hadn't been afraid to put himself between Harry and an escaped crazed murderer before everyone knew the truth about Sirius and the rat.

Sirius would never be able to forget how a furious Ron had stumbled painfully to stand on a leg that Sirius himself had injured accidentally and told a deranged looking convict to his face that he'd have to go through Ron to get to Harry. It was just so reminiscent of something that Sirius or James would have done for each other that Sirius couldn't help but be fond of the youngest Weasley boy and his dedication to his best friend.

Ron usually followed Harry's lead as well, and Sirius felt fairly confident that the boy wouldn't intentionally do anything to put Harry in danger. Truthfully he wasn't actually the one that Sirius was upset with.

That feeling was reserved for his son, who knew better.

And for Remus, who'd allowed this all to happen in the first place.

Sirius sighed deeply before uncrossing his arms to clap Ron on the shoulder gently.

"I'm cross with you two little miscreants right now," he grumbled, raising an eyebrow at the blushing teen, "but I dare say it's only temporary. I do think we all need to have a talk about what happened today, but we'll wait for another time when I'm calm and in a more reasonable mood."

Ron nodded, his cheeks blushing furiously under his freckles. He was grateful that Sirius wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs like his Mum would have if she'd been the one to find them missing, but he didn't like to be a disappointment to the older wizard that he was quite fond of either.

"Make no mistake," Sirius continued to clarify, "Harry is in trouble."

Ron winced and, seeing that the boy was already mired in guilt, Sirius didn't have the heart to keep scolding him.

"But probably not so much that you can't come back in a few days to visit if you need to escape the Burrow for a bit if your brothers and sister start driving you mad."

A wave of relief passed over the boy's face and he managed a small chagrined smile before trudging off to join Remus and Dora at the floo. Dora continued to glower at her cousin, still obviously miffed over Sirius' furious accusations, but Remus seemed to wilt under Sirius' glare and he didn't manage to make eye contact as he ushered Ron into the green flames. A moment later, all three were gone.

Once he was alone, the profound quiet of the room far louder in his ears than any noisy gathering of children, Sirius finally looked down on the floor where his son's shopping bags had spilled. Peeking out from the plastic were large piles of goodies. Cadbury Flake and Crunchie bars and rolls of Fruit Gums, as well as bags of Monster Munch and Walkers crisps. Jammie Dodgers and Maltesers.

All treats that Sirius himself used to buy in large quantities as well.

Bending down, he gathered up the items and put them neatly back into the plastic sacks, his mind going back to the days when he'd sneak out of Grimmauld Place during the summer months. Dragged home from school, desperately missing his friends and thoroughly miserable.

He'd always had an affinity for the Muggle world, even as a young child, simply because it fascinated him that there were non-magical people who managed to create incredible things without the gifts that wizards and witches were blessed with. The fact that his fondness for Muggle culture infuriated his horrible parents was merely a perk, and as the boy grew older, he became more brave about venturing out amongst the Muggles and exploring their different ways.

At school, he'd once traded a bottle of Firewhiskey nicked from Orion's liquor cabinet with a Muggle-born Gryffindor a year below him named Dirk Cresswell for one of the other boy's jumpers and a pair of the bell bottom jeans which were in fashion at the time. These Sirius would wear hidden under his traditional robes and, when he could, he'd escape the abusive townhouse and flee into London proper for a few minutes of peace.

Only occasionally allowed to visit the Potters, Sirius spent most of his summer days skulking around Number Twelve, waiting for Walburga to be off visiting with other vile pure-blood witches, usually with an obedient Regulus in tow. Leaving behind her detested eldest at the mercy of Kreacher who, luckily for Sirius, preferred to spend his afternoons meticulously feather-dusting the mounted heads of the Black family house elves that had come before him. All the while muttering his desire to have the honour of one day joining them when his own time came.

It was a foul wish made by an even more foul being and Sirius had a hard time masking his disgust over it all which usually got him into a lot of trouble.

More often than not, Sirius's home confinement was a result of him being punished for one perceived offense or another, which unfortunately sometimes meant an afternoon of torment at the hands of his vicious tempered minder. But unless Walburga specifically instructed Kreacher to occupy his time by inflicting pain on her rebellious son, the nasty little elf was free to ignore the shameful offspring of his beloved Mistress entirely in favor of partaking in another of his favorite pleasures.

Sirius' sorting into Gryffindor was the death knell to his future as head of the Black family, so after that Kreacher didn't even have to pretend to occasionally defer to the boy any longer and he enjoyed the misery he caused the little upstart that upset his Mistress so often. But Sirius was smart and creative, which meant that he often found ways to get even with the surly house elf for hurting him, which created a sort of stalemate between them. So the more time Kreacher could spend respecting the cherished memories of his predecessors instead of soiling his hands on the blood traitor, the happier he was.

And with Kreacher otherwise distracted, it did give Sirius the opportunity to escape.

Tucking his wizarding robes into a niche under the front stoop of the house, Sirius would retrieve the small pile of pound notes and coins that he bought from some of the Muggle-born students at school that he kept in a pouch in the niche as well, and then he'd make his way down the street just like any other Muggle adolescent. Walking as quickly as he could, as there was no telling when Walburga might return and bellow for her eldest son, he'd hurry into a shop on the other side of the small park in front of the Black family home and buy an armful of treats.

After that he'd find an empty bench in the park, shrouded from view of Grimmauld Place by a ring of trees, and he'd happily gorge on the lot of them, basking in the warm summer sunshine. Happy to be out of his dark and dreary house of horrors for however many stolen moments he could manage.

Now looking at Harry's overflowing bags, Sirius' heart sank as he pondered the reason why his son would have purchased such a large quantity of snacks when he could have anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers without having to go out and secure it for himself.

Neither Sirius nor Harry had grown up in a house with any love in it, and if Sirius had more of a clinical grasp on the complex roots of depression and anxiety, he might have recognized that his own summertime snack escapes were a coping mechanism for dealing with the pain of living in that terrible place. A few stolen minutes of sugar laden self-care that took a bit of the sting out of being an abused child.

A measure of control for a boy that didn't have any.

As it was, he simply remembered the happiness that doing something so typically Muggle brought him when he knew how angry it would make his parents if they found out.

But while Sirius had been regularly beaten, Harry had been regularly starved.

It begged the question of how many bags of treats would a formally hungry child purchase if given the chance? Or exactly how Harry had needed to survive when locked away in his room, a cat flap in a door the only thing standing between a young boy and profound hunger.

Just because Harry was now safe and sound in Sirius' loving care, it didn't automatically erase all the trauma his son had already suffered. Or possibly Harry's unconscious need to make sure it never happened again.

Sighing deeply, he dropped down on the couch and rubbed his temples in an attempt to stave off the headache that was beginning to develop. This whole thing was a conundrum, because Harry certainly knew better than to go out on his own without permission and even more certainly without at least leaving behind a note explaining his absence.

But that also didn't change the fact that Sirius resented the necessity of having to keep his son locked up like a prisoner most of the time for his own protection.

Harry was a good kid.

An unfailingly kind boy who wouldn't think about hurting another or doing anything dangerous just for the fun of it, and it rankled the Marauder in Sirius to no end that he was forced to play jailer to his child when Harry had done nothing to deserve it.

If it had been Sirius, he would have most definitely rebelled by now by creating some sort of havoc just out of resentment alone.

The bottle of Muggle whisky sitting across the room on the bar front was looking very appealing at the moment, but Sirius wasn't about to emulate his detested father by imbibing strong spirits in the middle of the day in order to deal with family turmoil. He could hardly expect Harry to respect him when paternal lectures were given with a heavy scent of booze clouding the air.

Standing back up, Sirius flicked his wand and turned off the telly where the boys' game was still frozen in mid-play, and the slight hum from the electronics surrounding him reminded Sirius that he really needed to stop whipping his wand out for everything. He was simply annoyed since the whole ordeal certainly would have been less frightening if they'd thought to turn the damned thing off before they wandered outside.

Sirius also had half a mind to bin the gaming system altogether so it never scared him like that again.

But that would be unnecessarily cruel to his son, however, and Sirius wasn't the kind of father who'd give his child gifts only to yank them away again. That was something that Orion would have done.

Instead he scooped up the shopping bags and made his way towards Harry's room, having already made up his mind about the things that needed to change to ensure that nothing like today ever happened again.

Hearing no noise coming from inside the room, Sirius knocked twice on the door before walking in. As he suspected, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head hanging down morosely like he'd lost his best friend which wasn't surprising since Sirius knew how distressed Harry could get when he thought he'd disappointed his father. It hurt the man deeply to see his child so upset, no matter how much Harry had worried him.

Harry was dressed again in his pajama bottoms and a new sleep shirt, though it wasn't even close to dinner time yet. Sirius winced because his son obviously assumed that he'd been sent to his room for a smacking before being put to bed for a bit, which is how Sirius usually dealt with him putting himself in danger. So really, it was a fair assumption, because although Sirius hadn't specifically instructed Harry to stay in the flat today, but the boy knew well enough by now what the parameters were.

Turning to place the bags on the dresser by the door, Sirius caught a quick glimpse of his son moving out of the corner of his eye. Harry looked up, sneaked a fast peek at his father's hands and then lowered his head back down.

The poor sprog was probably checking for the dreaded paddle, Sirius suspected and it made him a bit sad.

He despised the necessity of having to dole out firm discipline on occasion, but it wasn't as if it happened all the time either. When cooler heads prevailed, and Sirius' anxiety level had dropped a bit more, he and Harry were going to have another talk specifically about actions and consequences so that going forward the boy didn't automatically expect to get smacked for every little misdeed.

Moving slowly, he made his way over to the bed and sat down next to his kid, gently nudging their shoulders together. Feeling upset and a bit needy, Harry budged up against him ever-so-slightly, clearly wanting some comforting contact but unwilling to be blatantly obvious about it, the boy's fingers nervously fidgeting in his lap.

"I hate this," Sirius sighed sadly, his resigned tone causing his son to flinch next to him.

Harry swallowed nervously a few times, his hands twisting hard enough to make Sirius' own hands hurt in sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Papa," the boy muttered, unable to lift his head. "I didn't mean to worry you. It won't happen again. And I'm sorry about this morning too. I shouldn't have been such a prat. I'll behave better. I promise."

It was a sorrowful plea. One that made Sirius' heart lurch in sadness at the mournful tone in his child's voice.

"No, kiddo," Sirius clarified, shaking his head. "I hate the fact that our lives are such that you can't even take a walk to the corner shop without having it become this great ordeal."

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Harry chanced a quick glance up to see if his father was actually sincere and was surprised to see that he was. He leaned into the touch when Sirius reached out with his hand to brush his son's hair away from his forehead.

"I also hate that I feel like I have to keep you so confined all the time," Sirius continued softly as he rubbed an affection thumb across Harry's cheek. "You should be able to walk around in our own neighborhood freely, without guilt or worry, like every other kid. When I was your age, I was out and about in London on my own quite often, and honestly I loved it."

Sirius' words had Harry feeling a little hopeful that his father wasn't entirely disappointed in him, but being who he was, he still couldn't help the enormous amount of guilt he was harboring over acting so foolishly.

"It's okay," he protested, twisting his fingers again as he got even more worked up. "I know why we have to be careful about where we go and that I can't just go out anytime I want to. Really I do. I guess I just didn't think I'd be gone for more than a few minutes. But once we were there, I sort of got sidetracked. But I didn't mean to worry you, I swear."

Breathless after his nervous rambling, the boy's chest heaved and he raised his head, barely meeting his father's eyes as he wordlessly begged for understanding.

"I know you didn't," Sirius soothed, nodding as he gently rubbed Harry's arm to comfort his child. "I understand. Truly."

He paused for a moment, to let his words sink in. It was important to him that Harry believed that Sirius really was on his side, even when it seemed like he wasn't because of his concerns for his son's safety. Nothing was going to make a teenage boy rebel faster than to believe that his father had no sympathy for his situation.

"But Harry," he continued, his voice quiet but firm, "you really can't do something like that again. Even accidentally. Not even a note to let Remus know you'd gone out? You know better than that. I must have lost a year off of my life between getting his patronus telling me you were missing and you walking in that door."

Harry looked positively miserable as he dropped his head back down and Sirius' heart broke a little more.

"I'm sorry."

Sirius' entire face frowned in sadness over his son's mournful apology. Occasionally it was necessary to drive a certain point home to teach Harry a lesson, but it never got any easier to see his already terribly upset son become even more so. All he wanted to do was hug his kid and tell him that everything would be okay, and he couldn't quite suppress the little voice inside of him that said it could be, if only Sirius himself summoned the courage to let it happen.

Something that he suspected was going to be easier said than done.

Another awkward moment passed between father and son, both of them mired in their own thoughts, until Sirius finally made the painful decision faced by all parents at some point. The one that meant he needed to love his child enough to let him go just a little bit. He sighed in resignation and cleared his throat, praying to Merlin that he wasn't about to make a huge mistake.

"So this is what's going to happen," he began wrapping an arm around Harry's slumped shoulders as he forced himself to tamp down the fear rising in his throat. "From now on, when we are staying here in the Muggle world I'll allow you to go out and about, within reason, as long as you have someone with you. Never alone, mind you. And I must always, always approve of where you are going, who you are with and exactly when you are coming back. I also reserve the right to say no at any time you ask if I have a legitimate concern."

Harry took in a stuttering breath as he looked up at his father in shock. In no scenario whatsoever had he imagined that Sirius would ever extend such an offer of freedom of movement.

Especially in London.

And even more especially after Harry's recent little escapade.

"But," Sirius cautioned firmly, holding up a warning finger, "you need to obey all of these rules, all of the time. If you don't, then I'll see to it that you can't sit comfortably for a week and we will go right back to the way things are now. No arguments. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded enthusiastically, barely able to believe his good luck. But before he got too excited, he needed to confirm that Sirius wasn't just making a rash decision under duress just to make him happy. "Are you sure, Papa?"

Sirius hedged a moment, unwilling to lie to his child, but he didn't want Harry to have any doubt in him either.

"I'm sure that you deserve to have more freedom than you do currently," he said with difficulty. "And I'm sure that neither of us want another scare like today. So I'm putting my trust in you, young man. Don't make me regret it."

"No sir," Harry said, shaking his head. "I won't. I promise."

Sirius smiled sadly and nodded, silently making his peace with cutting one of the metaphorical steel strings keeping his son attached to him. It didn't matter that he'd rather wrap Harry in cotton wool and keep him secure at Celestial Court where nothing bad could hurt him forever. It wasn't fair to his son and Sirius knew that both he and James would have gone mad locked away in a house, regardless of how necessary it might be.

In fact, he was pretty sure that by the end James had.

Harry seemed to instinctively know what this was costing his father, and he gave Sirius a grateful look before lurching forward and throwing his arms around the worried man.

"Thank you, Papa."

Sirius closed his eyes as he held his child close. It was going to take every ounce of his Gryffindor courage to let Harry out of his sight, even for a few short minutes, and Merlin forbid that anything truly bad happened to his son just because Sirius was getting soft in his old age.

"It was never my wish to hold you prisoner, little one," he said softy as he hugged his kid. "Believe me. It's the absolute last thing I'd ever want for you. I just needed to keep you safe."

"I know," Harry nodded into his neck. "And I love you for caring enough to want to."

Sirius gripped Harry even closer at that, but as sad as the background behind that sentiment was, the knot in Sirius' chest eased somewhat from his son's sincere words and the way Harry tightened his own arms around his father's shoulders. They held each other for another few seconds of mutual comfort before Sirius gently pushed the boy back, not quite done with his talk now that he'd started it.

"There are a couple of other conditions that come with your new freedom, however" he warned, raising an eyebrow sternly. "For one, this is for the Muggle world only. When we are in our world, we will still be keeping a low profile."

Harry nodded immediately. He understood very well the differences in potential danger between being the Boy Who Lived in the wizarding world and just simply another bespectacled teen in Muggle London.

"Also," Sirius continued sternly, "before you go out anywhere, I think we may have to invest in a couple of those mobile phone thingies that we keep seeing advertisements for on all the buses here. We'll have to see how they react to our magic, of course, but hopefully they'll be alright."

"Really?" Harry asked excitedly, his eyes going wide over the prospect of owning something that cool as he grinned like a loon. Dudley had been pestering his parents for one for two years already. "Brilliant!"

Sirius couldn't help but laugh at his kid's enthusiasm but he also raised a hand to signal for Harry to keep calm for another few minutes.

"Really. But you're to carry it on you at all times, and if I try to contact you, you answer immediately or I will cast a tethering spell that keeps you tied to my side until you are of age."

"I will," Harry promised immediately, ready to agree to just about anything right now, especially since Sirius didn't seem to be entirely kidding about the tethering. "I'll never go anywhere without it, I swear."

"Too right, you won't," Sirius agreed. He narrowed his eyes sternly at the boy until he was satisfied that his son understood just how non-negotiable that condition was. He was fairly confident that his kid wasn't foolish enough to try his father's resolve in enforcing the rule, but it never hurt to emphasis the point.

"I'm also going to give you one of the communication mirrors that your Dad and I used to use to talk over long distances," he continued, feeling more than a bit of sad nostalgia over the items that had been so important to them, "as well as teaching you how to use your own patronus to send verbal messages. In a true emergency, I want you to have several different ways to contact me."

To be honest, the last two items this list made Sirius want to kick himself, since he really could have done both of these things earlier. But in all fairness he'd just been so focused on Harry's schooling and getting everyone settled at the manor that he genuinely hadn't thought about what could be done so Harry could have a little more independence.

Or maybe, on a subconscious level, he hadn't wanted to entertain the idea of his kid not being near him at all times when there was a clear and present threat to the boy's well being.

'I'll be careful, Papa," Harry promised quietly, putting his hand on Sirius' arm the way his father often did to comfort him. "I promise."

Looking at his son's earnest face, Sirius tried hard to not see another one that looked very much like it. James had made him the same kind of promise just before Sirius left on the last assignment he took for the Order. Sirius hadn't wanted to leave his loved ones behind, but like most of the other Order members at the time, it was understood and accepted that their mission came before everything else.

He had no way of knowing that he'd never see James alive again.

He also knew that he wouldn't allow the same fate to befall Harry, no matter what.

"Okay," he said quietly, suddenly feeling exceptionally drained and older than he physically was. "Okay."

Sirius leaned over and folded his hands on his knees, his eyes closed as he fought the anxiety welling up inside of him. The decision was now made, for better or worse, but it didn't stop him from feeling sick to his stomach over what could happen if Harry made even one tiny mistake about his surroundings when Sirius wasn't right there to protect him.

Harry, seeing that his father was struggling and also still feeling extremely guilty for worrying him so badly in the first place, decided that they needed to change the subject and clear the air about what had happened earlier. He also felt beyond terrible for obviously causing a row between Sirius, Remus and Tonks. It didn't take a genius to see the tension in the room when he and Ron had returned to the flat.

"How much trouble am I in?"

Lifting his head back up, Sirius cocked an eyebrow and gave his son an exasperated little glare that had Harry wincing just from the intensity alone. After a few seconds of silence, Harry nodded in understanding and sighed and then got to his feet to stand in front of his father, hugging himself as his head hung in resignation.

"So..." the boy started quietly, his feet shuffling a little, "is it the paddle kind of trouble? Or, the um...belt kind of trouble?"

Harry looked up at his father warily, clearly waiting for instructions on whether he should place himself over Sirius' knee or bend over the edge of the bed, and looking all of five years old as he did.

Sirius grimaced as he leaned back, the uncomfortable reminder of having to be so harsh with his son during their island getaway making his stomach flip a bit more. He desperately hoped that there would never come another time when he had to punish Harry like that.

Pursing his lips, he drummed his fingers on Harry's dark blue bedspread, humming thoughtfully as he assessed his penitent kid. The boy's little disappearing act definitely qualified as a smacking worthy offense.

Sirius just didn't want to give him one.

Not that he ever really wanted to. But, like other parents, he unhappily accepted that there were times when it was necessary to spank his son for a particularly serious transgression so Harry learned to not do it again, and so Sirius did, even though he hated it, but right now he was having some difficulty coming to terms with it on this particular occasion.

Yes, it would be breaking every parenting rule on consistency in the universe to allow his son to get away with it this time and not the next. Because kids were at least supposed to have an idea of what the consequences would be if they misbehaved if it was to be an effective deterrent. Except for the slow start at the beginning of last summer, Sirius had been trying very hard to routinely give the boy as much structure as love.

It wasn't always easy to find the right balance, but good parenting rarely ever was.

Maybe it was just some residual guilt over already swatting his son earlier but, after giving it some careful thought while Harry was blushing and squinting at him awkwardly, Sirius made up his mind that he simply wasn't going to discipline his son for his little shopping spree. After all, there was a large part of him that felt equally, if not more, to blame for the ruckus.

Because it was Sirius' many fears, some well founded but some just a product of anxiety, that forced Harry to endure a routinely suffocating confinement wherever they were staying.

First at the Dursleys, where Sirius and Harry had spent two whole weeks camped out in the enlarged bedroom, aside from Harry's little excursion to Hogsmeade that he did get punished for. Then afterwards at Celestial Court for the rest of the summer, when Harry had been allowed to have friends over a couple of times, but not really allowed to go to their houses in return.

Of course once September came school started and Hogwarts had its own rules and curfews for all of its students. Which were only made more constricting for Harry when Sirius forced his son to move into his quarters full time because of the dangers of the Tournament. Depriving Harry of even the simple fun of sharing a dorm with his mates.

And then, most notably, Sirius' creation of a whole new school, just to keep his son hidden away in their home.

It simply wasn't fair to the boy, and yet Harry rarely complained. He bristled a bit. Maybe even muttered an occasional whinge or two, but he generally understood and did as he was told.

Because of that, Sirius truly believed that Harry usually did try to do his best, and that he wouldn't ever intentionally scare his father half to death by going to a shop that was literally down the street from their flat that they had been to together on more than one occasion. He'd only wanted to buy some snacks just like any other kid his age.

"I think it's more the grounding kind of trouble," Sirius finally said after letting his son stew for another few seconds.

Harry's eyebrows raised up into his forehead in surprise but then he nodded, unhappy but resigned to his fate. As relieved as he was to not be getting spanked, since he absolutely hated it, the truth was that on this particular occasion he'd much rather have a sore bum for one night than a long restriction for several, which would cut directly into the holiday plans he already had with his friends during the upcoming week.

Besides the show with Hermione and her Mum tomorrow night, Hestia had owled them just the other day to say that she'd arranged seats in the top box for the next match between the Harpies and the Tutshill Tornadoes for everyone, including the Weasley kids who hadn't been able to attend the last time. It was going to be awful if Harry's grounding meant that he couldn't go with them.

"Yes, sir."

Glancing down at his watch, Sirius hummed again as he checked the time.

"You've been confined to your room for about half an hour already," he said casually, looking up to see Harry's face scrunch up in confusion. "Shall we just call it time served?"

"What?"

Harry's eyes went wide as he saw his father beginning to smirk at him. Because Sirius wasn't one to joke about discipline, it took the boy a minute to realize that he was being given a full reprieve. His face split into a huge grin and Sirius chuckled as he stood and threw an arm around Harry's shoulders and began to lead him towards the door.

"You're also sentenced to an evening of playing games with me," he warned his son with a gentle poke in the boy's side, "And you know what a bad loser I am, so it goes without saying that you have to let me win."

Still smiling, Harry let out an over-exaggerated groan as he dragged his feet, going along with his father's teasing.

"That's just cruel and unusual," he objected with a believable whinge. "You're pants at all the video games I have."

The boy laughed at the look of outrage on his father's face and skillfully twisted his bum out of the way when Sirius reached out to playfully pretend to swat at it.

"Alright, that's it, young man," Sirius warned as he grabbed at one of Harry's shopping bags on their way out the door. "Just for that I'm taking all of your Flake bars. They're my favorite and now you don't get to have any for making fun of me."

"Fine," Harry scoffed as if he didn't care, when actually the Flakes were the ones he'd specifically picked out. He grabbed another bag and rummaged around until he pulled out a handful of the chocolates Ron had selected. "But you're not getting any of the Crunchies, so don't even bother asking."

"Deal," Sirius agreed with a nod as he leaned over to drop a kiss on the top of Harry's head. They both knew perfectly well that Harry would end up getting whatever he wanted, no matter what claim Sirius placed on the sweets.

Harry turned and gave his father a gentle hug, whispering a quiet thanks into Sirius' shoulder that had the man squeezing his boy just a bit tighter for a second before letting him go. He knew what Harry was really thanking him for.

Sirius smiled as Harry happily loped off to the sitting area to turn the game back on, glad that the unpleasantness between them was over because he genuinely hated being the bad guy in his son's eyes. Even if it was sometimes necessary for him to be strict and over-protective. He also knew that at some point sooner rather than later he'd have to swallow his pride and apologize to Remus for the sharp comments he'd made to him and Dora in the heat of the moment.

But not today.

Today was for his son only.

Within minutes Harry was already sprawled out on the sofa, the racing game loading on the large screen as he contentedly stuffed chocolate in his mouth. Sirius knew that he really should scold his son about spoiling his dinner, but he just couldn't. Right now Harry was happy and healthy. Safe and sound and exactly where Sirius could keep an eye on him and breathe a little easier for the moment. It had been a long stressful day, and all Sirius wanted to do was put his feet up on the table and spend some time with his kid.

The rest he would worry about later.

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

George Polkiss was having a bad day.

A well respected barrister by trade, he was a hard working and generally serious sort of man with limited patience for nonsense. He liked order and efficiency. Timetables that were kept to the second. A pristine desk with nary even a pen out of place, and colleagues that were utmost professionals like himself.

He had no interest in sticking his nose in his neighbors' businesses, engaging in any sort of domestic drama that had been created out of whole cloth and he absolutely could not stand the sound of petty people yammering nonstop with idle gossip.

Unfortunately, that was the world he found himself living in at the end of each day, once he left the stately environs of his tony office in London and returned to his semi-detached home on Wisteria Walk in Little Whinging where he lived with his wife Wendy and their son Piers.

Wendy was George's second wife. A fair bit younger than George, she was still quite the beauty she'd been the first day she stumbled into his office with his sandwich delivery from the cafe at the end of the street. She was fun and flirty, effortlessly bringing out a more relaxed side of the normally staid barrister that he usually kept masterfully suppressed. Her contagious smile cheered him on even the most drudging days and, as time passed, he found himself quickly becoming the cafe's most loyal lunch customer, just to have a few minutes in her bubbly presence when he actually felt young again.

Then one thing led to another.

A moment of weakness after a crushing loss in court and a bad streak of nightly rows with his stately wife Mabel over their children's schooling had George suddenly finding himself engaging in a stereotypical extramarital affair with a younger woman, when every rational thought in his head told him that it was an incredibly bad idea.

One pleasurable night became two, and before he knew it, the affair was going on steadily for almost six months. All the while, Mabel had been getting more and more suspicious of the extra long hours he was putting in at the office that were unusual, even for him.

The increased pressure in his home over having to continually justify his evenings away began to wear on him, and the little thrill that had been putting an extra spring in his step since the start of the affair was beginning to dim a little the more he realized just how little he and Wendy actually had in common outside of the hired suite at the Aldwych Hotel.

Returning to his senses, he was about to give it all up and return to his stale marriage and staid home life when, one day, Wendy delivered a paper sack at lunchtime that didn't contain George's usual egg mayonnaise on whole wheat, but a little plastic stick that silently proclaimed that the radiant looking Wendy was up the duff.

George didn't keep it a secret. Didn't even want to really, and a messy divorce followed quickly after. Mabel kept the kids, the Kensington townhouse and a fair amount of George's money. He could have fought it. He was a terror in the courtroom after all. But he knew he was in the wrong, so he didn't.

As soon as the ink was dry on the divorce papers, he married Wendy in the overly large church wedding she wanted before she started to show too badly, bought the smaller house in Little Whinging for them because it was close to her parents and she wanted her Mum nearby during the pregnancy, and wrote large tuition checks for the boarding schools that George Junior and Mary Alice wanted to attend as an apology for breaking up their home.

Piers, named for George's maternal grandfather, was born five months after his parents' marriage, with George promising himself that he'd been a better husband and father this time around.

It didn't quite work out that way, which should have come as no real surprise. A workaholic leopard rarely changes his spots.

The atmosphere around his office had become somewhat less respectful once his colleagues and underlings needed to start referring to the sandwich delivery girl as the new Mrs. Polkiss, and the way some of his fellow barristers were giving him the knowing wink-wink, nudge-nudge that said he'd joined their club of unabashed adulterers left him feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

George threw himself back into his work. Wendy became a a full-time Mum and neighborhood gossip, and little Piers grew up pampered and spoiled by a mother that doted on him and a father that wanted at least one of his kids to like him.

It wasn't the best way to raise a child, and George, being a normally sensible man, didn't want to admit it, but his youngest had become a nightmare. Used to getting his way from his mother while his father worked long hours at his office, as he grew up Piers became firmly entrenched with a group of neighborhood boys who terrorized all the other kids with a loud mouth, pudgy little blond named Dudley Dursley as their leader.

The Dursleys, a seemingly normal couple on the outside, were a typical middle class family, just like almost every household in the neighborhood. They kept their lawn neat and tidy and drove a respectable car. There were no loud public domestic dramas in front of their home. Mrs. Dursley was active, but not a leader, in the local WI chapter that Wendy belonged to, as well as the neighborhood gardening club. The two women had become fast friends as new Mums who spent their afternoons in the park bragging to the other mothers about how perfect their children were.

Mr. Dursley was a typical mid-level executive braggart, who always seemed to feel the need to try and impress George at every suburban function the two couples found themselves attending. George had met plenty of his type and didn't particularly like them. Years of experience taught him that the ones who had a tendency to toot their own horns the loudest usually needed to do so because nobody else would.

George didn't particularly like their son Dudley either. He was a miniature version of his pompous and vulgar father, and although the boy tried to be sickeningly sweet in his interactions with George on the rare occasion they found themselves in the same room together, George could see the rotten underbelly of Dudley's true nature, having known plenty of his type too. Schooled at Harrow, where the reputation was stellar but the hazing was legendary, there had been plenty of boys in his year and above that had found great joy in making others miserable.

Dudley Dursley was a bully, plain and simple. What was worse, is that he had turned Piers into one as well.

He may not have spent as much time in Little Whinging as his wife wanted him to, but George was around often enough to realize that a lot of the neighbors feared his son and the little gang Piers belonged to. It probably didn't help that the same neighbors were somehow under the impression that George would use his legal connections to make life miserable for anyone that complained about the terrible things the boys did.

George was a lot of things, but he wasn't ignorant. There wasn't a shadow of doubt in his mind that his own son was most likely the source of that particular threat.

But, for some reason, the real fear in the neighborhood was for another member of the Dursley household.

George himself, a rather curious man by nature, had many questions about the other little boy that lived at Number Four. The 'troublesome' nephew that the Dursleys were always eager to tell anyone who would listen that they had generously taken in after the boy's parents were killed in a car crash.

Although he was Piers' age and had grown up in the same neighborhood with his son, George didn't even know that the boy's name was Harry until just a few years ago. That was how rarely anybody saw him and just how infrequently the Dursleys mentioned him specifically other than to complain that he was a bother and a burden.

And that had always struck George as a terrible way to refer to a child.

He caught the occasional glance of the slight figure pulling weeds in front of the house on Privet Drive, practically drowning in the ratty clothes he wore. Harry was never brought to any of the neighborhood gatherings to play with the other children. He was certainly never included in any event held at the Polkiss home even though Wendy could never give her husband a good explanation as to why other than it was Mrs. Dursley's wish that he not attend.

Piers just referred to Harry as 'the freak'. Something that got Piers one of his few tellings off from his father, but didn't change the way the other boys talked about him.

Harry was simply excluded from the social activities that the other local kids regularly joined in, and it wasn't really George's place to change that, so he kept his opinions to himself.

Then, a few years ago, Piers had begged and pleaded to be sent to Smeltings Academy with Dudley, instead of following his father to Harrow. George was finally ready to put his foot down, because while he may have been lax about many things in his youngest son's upbringing, Piers' education wouldn't be one of them. Unfortunately, that was also the summer that George had been gobsmacked by the news that George Junior had been accepted at Oxford via a letter sent through his solicitor requesting that George pay for the fees, and not because his own son called to tell him.

George was as crushed as an Englishman would allow himself to be, and it only reinforced his bad habit of giving his youngest whatever he wanted.

So off to Smeltings Piers went, which didn't do anything to improve the boy's boorish behavior, especially once he'd been giving one of those awful sticks.

Meanwhile, the story going around the neighborhood was that the Dursley's nephew was off to some kind of institution for adolescent criminals, and George, having been around more than his share of morally and ethically challenged people because of his profession, had a very hard time reconciling the idea that the black haired waif who was barely ever seen outside the Dursleys' home was somehow capable of such extreme violence that he needed to be locked up during the school year.

The whole thing just smelled funny. Especially now with the most recent news that Harry was apparently never coming back. If George had been a better man, he might have made more of a point to inquire as to why.

But it simply wasn't his business.

The Dursleys were upstanding members of their community. Piers was happy at his school. And George finally had one child that called home regularly and sent letters just to keep in contact with his father and not only asking for money.

Although he did that too.

Whether George liked it or not, his family was decidedly intertwined with the Dursleys, and that didn't include the little bespectacled boy with the oversized clothes and the poor reputation. Piers and Dudley were as thick as thieves, and so were Wendy and Petunia, and there was no getting away from either of those unhappy realities.

This morning, Wendy and Petunia had decided that they wanted to do some shopping in London before picking the boys up from school that evening, and George found himself grudgingly offering to drive the ladies into the city, thinking he could get some work done on a weekend, when the office would be empty and quiet. Only to have those plans thwarted when Wendy announced that wouldn't it be wonderful if he could take Petunia's abysmal husband for lunch at the club instead.

Which is how George found himself at the wheel of his new Jaguar Vanden Plas driving into London with Dudley's boor of a father Vernon in the passenger seat next to him, blathering on and on about the complexities of drill bits, while Wendy and Petunia nattered like excited chipmunks about the treats they were going to buy their sons and the dismal state of a neighbor's unkempt lawn in the back.

As he felt the pressure of a migraine coming, all George Polkiss could really think about was, no matter where Harry was now, at least the poor kid had finally escaped.

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

Harry Potter wasn't having a bad day today.

But he was about to.

It was a wonderfully mild early April afternoon in London as Harry and Sirius strolled through St. James Park.

Everywhere, scores of adults and children were out enjoying the spring sunshine, taking advantage of the Easter school holidays to spend a leisurely day in the heart of the city. The park was just a short walk from Sirius' flat, and since he and Harry had hours to kill before meeting up with Andromeda, Hermione and Jean for their outing in the West End, the father and son had decided to do something exceptionally normal and spend some time relaxing by wandering around the lake like other families did on a weekend.

Harry was quiet as he contentedly licked around the edges of his slowly melting chocolate ice cream cone. He hadn't asked for the treat, and Sirius absolutely hated the fact that his son still rarely asked for anything. It was a challenge to suss out subtle cues from Harry's behavior that might indicate a desire for something, but upon their arrival at the park the boy's eyes had strayed ever so slightly towards the people eating ice cream next to the food kiosk at the entrance and Sirius had guessed easily enough that his child wanted some.

Breakfast delivery from the elves at the flat had been a few hours earlier so, like the responsible parent he was, he'd made Harry order a ham and cheese toastie first, and only then, once that had been demolished, did Sirius buy his son the enormous cone the kid really had his eye on.

After several minutes of walking to nowhere in particular, Sirius gestured over to a miraculously empty bench across from the small lake, and Harry nodded his agreement as they made their way over to it before it was claimed by someone else.

Something that Dora had said a couple of days ago was weighing on Sirius' mind. He didn't exactly forget that his son was Muggle-raised, but he didn't always quite remember it either. It had to have been a culture shock for Harry to enter the wizarding world and they never really talked about just how much.

Harry had always just professed excitement for his new environment and gratitude for getting away from the Dursleys, but nothing about anything that he actually liked that he'd been forced to give up.

"Is there anything you really miss about life in the Muggle world," he asked his son curiously. "Something you can't do or something you can't have anymore?"

Harry swallowed his mouthful and scrunched his face up in thought.

"Pens," he decided as he reached for the bottle of water Sirius was carrying to take a sip.

Sirius lifted an eyebrow in amusement as his son chugged down half the bottle before handing it back. He'd pick up a couple of more before they left the park.

"You miss pens?"

"Yeah," Harry snorted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "They're so much easier to write with than quills. It was a right pain my first year at school with the sharp tips and the ink stains everywhere. I didn't grow up using one, you know, and they're ridiculously messy. Wizards need to start using pens."

For a brief moment Sirius had a mental image of the stir it would cause around the Wizengamot if a motion was made to adopt pens in place of the traditional quills. The pure-bloods would have a collective heart attack.

"Well, I don't see why you can't use a pen sometimes if you want to," he decided. "It will certainly make Hugh and Jean happy. I don't think they like the quills either. But you can't give the quills up altogether and be wizard. Sorry, kiddo."

Smiling, Harry nodded. "That's okay. I think I'd like to try using both. I am a half-blood after all."

"Yes you are," Sirius said with a firm nod. "And that's a good thing. So are you looking forward to the show?"

Harry wrinkled his nose behind his cone, but his eyes were thoughtful as his tongue took another swipe around the dripping ice cream.

"I guess," he shrugged. "I mean, I'm happy to go, but I'm not sure that a musical for children is really my thing."

Sirius had to laugh at the way his son emphasized children like it was a four letter word.

"Well, to be fair," he pointed out, "it wasn't originally meant to be so. When the story was first told, by a witch I would remind you, it was most definitely a tale written for adults. The heroine of the piece was actually the daughter of a fae, and it was quite a bit more violent and complex than a simple romance."

Harry shrugged again and took another mouthful of his frozen treat as he looked across the water at the quacking ducks.

"I'm just happy to do anything, really," he said casually, as if his words didn't pierce his father's heart. "I never got to go out anywhere when I was younger, so it's nice that we do stuff like this now. Plus, I think Hermione was more comfortable about saying that she wanted to see the show after I told her that I would go too."

"You'd tell me, right, if there was something that you fancied doing?" Sirius asked concerned. His worry over his son's tendency to downplay his wishes rearing its head again. "You wouldn't keep quiet because you didn't want to ask me for anything. Would you?"

Harry took one of the napkins he had clutched in his other hand and wiped his smeared mouth. He was silent for just a few seconds longer than Sirius was comfortable with before answering.

"Probably not," he said shaking his head. "If I thought you'd say yes, I'd probably just ask you."

It wasn't really the response Sirius was hoping for, but it was most likely a better one than he would have gotten even six months ago. So that was progress, he supposed.

"Well, for the record," he clarified firmly, "unless it's something dangerous like um, you wanting to jump into the world's deepest hole in the ground or, I don't know, something barmy like hexing your own arm off to use as a hat rack, it's unlikely that I'd say no."

Harry stared at his father like he'd lost his mind as his face scrunched up into a frown.

"Why on earth would I want to do either of those things?"

"Because you're fourteen," Sirius laughed, smiling at his child fondly. "Your Dad and I did a lot of foolish things when we were fourteen. It's in your blood."

Harry's mouth curved into a smirk as he took another bite of his cone. "Well, no worries. I think my life is exciting enough as it is, thanks."

And that comment hit just a little too hard for Sirius' comfort.

The innocent looking boy sitting across from him, casually finishing up an ice cream as he watched a family of ducks play in the water, had already faced more horrors than any one person should ever have to. But Harry was surprisingly calm about it all, even though he knew that there were more dangerous challenges waiting for him in the near future.

Sirius admired his son, who had proven to be exceptionally brave and exceptionally resilient under the most awful of circumstances.

"Hey," he called quietly, getting Harry's attention again, "if you're just about done with that, what do you say we pop into the phone store before meeting up with the ladies? No time like the present to get you that mobile."

Harry's eyes grew wide with excitement as he quickly stuffed the remainder of the cone in his mouth and nodded vigorously as he stood up.

"Mm-Hmm!"

Sirius laughed as he stood to join his son, and he threw an arm around Harry's shoulders as he led the boy towards the park gate.

"Well, if you're sure."

It was close to two hours later when Sirius and Harry exited the store that fortunately wasn't too far from their meeting place. Harry's head was bent as he studiously examined his new Nokia 232 mobile phone, and Sirius found himself having to quickly grab his son by the back of his shirt just before the boy stepped off the curb and into the street to be plowed down by a line of fast moving Muggle vehicles.

"That's not an auspicious start to your phone ownership, young man," the panicked father growled, clutching his chest as he waited for his heart stop racing. "I almost had to apparate us out of the way. Do you really want to have to deal with the Ministry and a violation of the Statute of Secrecy today?"

Harry looked up him sheepishly. He was just so excited over his new possession that he hadn't even been thinking about where he was going.

"Sorry, Papa."

"Put it away. You can play with it later."

"Yes, sir,' Harry sighed as he slipped the phone into the front pocket of his trousers. He couldn't wait to show it to Hermione. At least she would appreciate what it was, unlike Ron, who still occasionally had trouble remembering Muggle words and called them fellytones.

Sirius firmly dragged Harry over to his side, the one furthest from the street traffic, and Harry rolled his eyes but obediently stayed there as they navigated their way towards the store where they were joining the ladies for afternoon tea.

He'd tried unsuccessfully to argue that he and Sirius could just meet them later at the theatre but, sadly for him, both his father and new godmother were of the opinion that it couldn't hurt Harry to spend a little time in a more cultured environment. His table manners were okay as far teenage boys go. Aunt Petunia had some very strong opinions in that regard as he was growing up, but Sirius and Andromeda wanted to drill in a little more refinement into him.

Wizarding culture, especially among the pure-bloods, required a little finesse.

Besides, Hermione had a special fondness for taking afternoon tea, and Harry wasn't enough of a berk to say no when she rarely asked anything of him. Taking tea was fine as an activity done in the Muggle world with their parents or during a Thursday afternoon excursion, but he swore that he'd never get dragged into a place like Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade, the garishly decorated haunt of happy couples that made Harry feel like sicking up.

With a few minutes to spare, the two wizards arrived at the agreed upon location, and Sirius quickly bustled his son into the men's room next to the front door. Checking to make sure that they were the only ones around, Sirius pulled out his wand and transfigured their clothes from the casual shirts and jeans they'd been wearing into something a little more suitable for tea and the theatre.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Harry scowled as his father waved his wand over his hair and couldn't get it do anything other than stick up a tiny bit less.

"How on earth does Hestia do it," Sirius grumbled under his breath as he made multiple passes over the unruly black spikes. "I swear it's like your hair has a mind of its own."

"Just leave it," Harry grumped as he ducked his head out of the way. "She clearly must have some talent with dark magic that lets her calm it down."

Sirius sighed and put his wand away as he nudged Harry towards the door. "Very well. Let's go before Andromeda starts ranting about our tardiness. You know how she gets when she plans something."

The ladies were already gathered at a table by the time Harry and Sirius made it into the dining room. Andromeda raised a displeased eyebrow at her cousin but otherwise didn't say anything other than that she'd already ordered for them. Sirius knew that look on his cousin's face, and he immediately started thinking that it might be time for another trip to Paris for ridiculously expensive scarves.

Despite the slightly late start, the five of them had a pleasant meal together. Hermione was, in fact, excited about Harry's new phone and she made him promise to tell her whether or not there were any problems using it, as she planned to coax her own parents into buying one as well if it didn't have a bad reaction to her magic.

Harry, hungry again after his earlier snack, ate his weight in finger sandwiches while Hermione repeatedly stole the miniature pastries from his plate when her mother wasn't looking and the ladies agreed that the pots of strawberry infused tea were the best they'd ever had. A true gentleman, Sirius picked up the check when they were finished, and then he and Harry told the others that they would meet up in the food hall after they'd had a chance to shop a little.

Quite full and even feeling a bit sleepy, Harry didn't complain when his father decided to take the stairs to the ground floor instead of the lift in an effort to walk off some of their meal.

But as they stepped down onto the main floor of the food hall, neither one of them were expecting to run into a very familiar face.

"Aunt Petunia?"

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

Petunia Dursley was having a bad day.

Which was rather unfortunate, because her life was finally perfect.

It had been perfect once before when she'd held her beautiful son in her arms for the first time. Three years of heartbreaking childlessness had come to a merciful end on the morning she'd been told that she was expecting the baby that she and Vernon had longed for since the day they were married.

Three very long years of enduring a certain look in her husband's eyes every time she failed to conceive the son he made no secret about wanting.

Vernon hadn't been unkind about it, per se. Likely because there was a tiny, more sensible part of him that realized Petunia wanted a child just as much as he did. But the larger and ruder part of him, the one that had somehow fooled himself into thinking he was a socially correct man, considered it unseemly to berate one's wife over the failure to adequately perform her womanly duties by becoming pregnant.

The Dursley men weren't particularly savvy about how biology actually worked, and Vernon would have scoffed in your face if you tried to explain to him exactly what role the father had to play in the likelihood of conception.

His sister Marge, on the other hand, hadn't been quite so quiet during her annual visits to the neat and tidy home of her only brother and his spindly little thing of a wife.

Dursleys were of good stock, she'd continually remind her harried sister-in-law, making sure to voice this fact as loudly as possible while Petunia fretted over where the ever-present ill behaved bulldog would find his next place to do his nasty business on her freshly shampooed carpet. For a solid fortnight Marge would boast about how hale and hearty she and Vernon were themselves, like their parents before them and all the Dursleys going back generations.

In Petnunia's mind, hale and hearty didn't necessarily translate into short and tubby, but since she actually did love her very normal husband, regardless of his girth, she just smiled and nodded amenably while scrubbing at an invisible speck of dirt on her gleaming kitchen counter instead of hurtling her sponge at Marge's fat head. Knowing well enough that Vernon absolutely adored his big sister, and that it would only cause unnecessary turmoil in their home to have the two women in his life at each other's throats.

While Petunia seethed inside, desperately wanting to point out the very real truth that Marge had never borne a child either, the part of her that often sat and cried in the empty nursery that she had painstakingly decorated almost as soon as she and Vernon had moved into Number Four Privet Drive grieved for the lack of a child to love.

All Petunia had ever wanted was a family that loved her as much as she loved them. A home where she would be special, just the way she was, without any of that freakish nonsense that her infuriatingly perfect sister had.

At first, at least Petunia had her mother to comfort her when she began to despair of ever getting pregnant. Mum would make Petunia tea and give her advice and home remedies in the old way of her people going back generations. But then, one dark day, her father, always tired and always overworked, unexpectedly died on the job at the mill, and Mum, already frail and wasting away in that dirty little town, was heartbroken and scared for her own future, and she'd died of grief not long after.

Petunia desperately missed her mother after her death, and the fact that she firmly felt sure that it was all Lily's fault that they no longer had their parents only cemented the breach in their relationship. Petunia couldn't forgive her little sister for the financial burden that paying for her school supplies had put on their father. If she hadn't asked for unusual things like odd robes and wands, cauldrons and frog spawn and whatever else those freaks used to cast their crazy spells, he wouldn't have needed to put in all those extra hours to afford them.

After attending the funerals of their parents, the estranged sisters rarely spoke, and by that point their relationship was beyond repair.

Petunia had to admit that Lily did try on more than one occasion to keep in contact. Even though she knew she'd hurt her sister badly by not asking her to be a bridesmaid at her wedding to Vernon, Lily seemed willing to put that behind them once it was just the two of them left.

In the spirit of reconciliation, because she knew that it was something their mother would have wanted, Petunia and Vernon had even agreed to a dinner with Lily and her abnormal fiancé. But of course that all went sideways when that Potter boy started rambling nonsense about racing brooms in the very respectable restaurant where they were eating, and bragging about some fantasy fortune made of gold in a bank run by goblins of all things.

Despite the fact that Petunia had heard these kinds of tales before from her sister, she wasn't about to believe a word of it, no matter what Lily tried to convince her of. It was all just a bit to much to accept if you were the normal type of person and not some lunatic with a magic stick. The resulting row was so horrible that Petunia refused to attend their wedding and vowed to never see her sister again.

She didn't know then that she never would.

Thankfully, her own life was much more calm. Vernon had been surprisingly understanding when Petunia had been forced to share the embarrassing nature of her sister's freakishness, but he never seemed to hold it against Petunia herself.

Although, there was a hint of worry right up to the point that Petunia came home with the good news that their little family was finally going to expand.

And maybe even for the first year after their sweet Dudders was born.

The Dursleys became the proud parents of their hale and hearty son on a hot summer's night in June and no one was a happier new mother than Petunia. Dudley was perfect in every single way. Happy and healthy and normal.

Of course Lily had to give birth to a son of her own shortly after, because she'd always been able to steal Petunia's thunder, and instead of being happy for her sister, all Petunia felt was resentment that Lily had an easier time falling pregnant. She was also sure that the infant they dared name after Petunia's own father was just as much of a freak as his parents.

Vernon had asked the baby's name when the birth announcement came, and she'd testily replied that Harry was a nasty, common little name. Which did actually surprise her husband as they'd planned to use it for their own next son.

Of course Lily had to take that away from Petunia too.

Maybe, over time that healed wounds, the sisters might have made peace again. Maybe they might have even matured together enough to share a small part of each other's lives. But that simply wasn't to be.

Lily had talked crazy talk about some war with an evil wizard for several years, and Petunia had to force herself to not laugh over how ridiculous it all sounded. An evil wizard who wanted to take over the world? It was positively a tale right out of a book by the Brothers Grimm!

But it wasn't a fairy tale in the end, and a tiny boy wrapped in a blanket left on her doorstep in the middle of the night proved it.

In complete denial, Petunia would have rejected the little urchin right off the bat, loudly proclaiming that she had no idea of whether or not this was actually her sister's son.

But one look at the hand-knitted blanket told her otherwise. Petunia had seen that blanket before too many times to not recognize it immediately. A twin to the one her own Dudders was swaddled in when they brought him home from the hospital. Mum's arthritic hands had painstakingly knitted an exquisite layette for each of her daughters to use for their own children long before either Dudley or Harry were even just a far off hope for the future.

The baby on her doorstep was most definitely her blood.

Still somewhat resentful, especially now that she had another little mouth to feed, Petunia would say that it was good riddance to her sister and the awful brother-in-law who obviously had brought it all on themselves. But that didn't stop her from locking herself in the powder room at night for weeks to cry angry, bitter tears over the loss of her little sister when everyone else in the house was asleep.

Including the traumatized toddler who didn't know where Mummy or Daddy had gone.

There was also never going to be a question of whether or not Petunia would love her nephew. Because that was simply impossible.

Once the boy had arrived, the worry that Vernon kept silent about in regards to their own Dudley began showing itself again as he watched every move their son made to see if it was normal or not. It was why Vernon allowed her to spoil Dudders the way she did.

When Dudley took his first step, or said his first word, and there was no sign of any funny business going on, he got treats and presents.

Vernon wanted to encourage their son to be a regular little boy, even if that meant he didn't necessarily behave himself very well. When Dudley had tantrums that shook the rafters, nothing freakish ever happened while he was raging, and that was all the proof Vernon needed that their son was normal just like his parents, thank you very much.

Lily's son, however, did things like finding himself on the roof of the school, and had crazy, wild hair that grew back overnight when you tried to cut it.

Things you didn't want the neighbors noticing if you didn't want to be considered odd.

Stuck with her sister's orphaned brat, the Dursleys decided not to roll the dice with a second child. They knew they'd gotten lucky with Dudders, but Petunia had been the older sibling of a freak herself, so who knew what a second pregnancy would bring?

If Petunia was a better woman, she would have embraced her nephew as her own, especially in light of having to accept that she'd never bear another child.

But the meaner part of her personality could never bring itself to forgive the ebony haired little boy that looked just like his wastrel father but stared at Petunia with Lily's eyes for living when her own sister was gone.

Petunia considered herself a respectable woman, and Harry was her parents' grandson, and for those reasons alone she fed him and clothed him and housed him.

More or less.

But this child had brought nothing but misery and, if that old bearded headmaster was to be believed, danger into her home and she'd never be able to see him as anything more than a living reminder of all that she had lost.

So it was a blessing when she and Vernon were curtly informed by that maniac Black that the boy would be living with his godfather from then on.

Because, once Dudley's second bedroom had been returned to its normal state, Petunia's life was once again perfect.

It was the start of the Easter holidays and time to pick up her Dudders from his very smart school. Petunia had been pleased to hear from the school nurse that her son had joined the boxing team and was now a fierce competitor. As such, there was no longer any need for the special diet that she'd sent home with Dudley the previous summer, since her boy had put on a large amount of muscle.

Of course, Petunia had thought that her son was just fine then. He was a big strapping lad, just like his father, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that!

Vernon, of course, was bragging to anyone that would listen that Dudley was a boxing champion, and his pride made it that much easier for Petunia to get her husband to open his wallet and allot a large sum of money for her to buy Dudley some treats to enjoy during his time at home. She'd been bereft that the hampers her son loved were not allowed to be sent last term and today she was determined to make up for it.

To be fair, Vernon's recent generosity was also a direct result of once again having their home to themselves. Although the visit by Black had been nothing short of a nightmare, since it had taken a lot of time and money to soothe Dudley's indignation of being denied a magical bedroom, once it had sunk in that they'd never see her sister's little freak son again, Petunia's husband had been positively jolly every day since.

And as it happened, her friend Wendy, a silly little thing but good for tea and a gossip about their mutual neighbors, had been by for a cuppa and a chat yesterday and she'd offered to have her husband drive them into London for a little spree. And, even better, he'd bring Vernon to his distinguished gentlemen's club to hobnob with all the upper class men who were members there. Petunia jumped at the chance, as she knew it would please Vernon greatly to be included in that sort of company and she would be free to purchase a large assortment of treats without worrying about carting it all home on the train.

Today was going to be a perfect day.

They had a pleasant drive up, and Petunia was sure that she was just imagining a grimace on Mr. Polkiss' face when Vernon mentioned how much he was going to enjoy their lunch together. Both men exited the car to open the back doors for the wives, and Vernon even made a bit of show of handing Petunia the special credit card with the high spending limit.

She beamed at him, knowing that her list of items that she wanted just doubled in size.

Fortnum and Mason's entrance was thrumming with customers coming and going as usual as the Jaguar pulled away, and Petunia's face was practically frozen in a huge smile as she and Wendy waltzed up to the elegant brick building. She cast a satisfied glance at the ornate badge over the door identifying the store as an official holder of a Royal Warrant. Smiling approvingly, she gave the stately doorman that greeted them a gracious nod as they swept their way inside.

She loved this place.

It didn't matter to her that most of her friends thought more of the food halls at Harrods when you were looking to fill up a hamper or two. Yes, Petunia acknowledged that the massive department store did have quite a bit more variety, but her mother had always been of the opinion that Fortnum and Mason was just a bit more classy.

No one knew better than her Mum, and Petunia was thinking about her wistfully as she remembered what a special time it was when the two of them would have tea together while Lily was away at school. They'd share some biscuits and a cuppa made with some of the rose tisane that came in the F&M signature aqua box that Dad bought for Christmas every year.

Some rose tea for my beautiful English Rose, he'd say.

And Mum would blush as red as her hair and for a few seconds look like a young girl again.

Shaking away the memories, Petunia took her time as she carefully inspected all the merchandise. Mr. Polkiss had assured them that it would be more than an hour and a half before he returned to collect the ladies, so there was really no need to hurry. She wanted nothing but the very best for her precious boy.

It turned out that it was a good thing that Vernon had given her the special card. Petunia twitched a little at the final counter as her large selection of cakes were rung up. She'd already gone over twice the budget she had originally set two counters ago, and could only hope that Vernon's general jolly mood and delight at seeing Dudders in person would curb any rebuke he would give her once the statement came in the post.

"Petunia! There you are!"

She turned and saw that Wendy had finally caught up with her, bags dangling from each wrist as two beleaguered looking employees followed her ferrying the rest of her purchases.

"I'm not sure how all this is going to fit," her neighbored gushed with a huge smile. "It looks like you have quite a lot yourself."

Looking down at the various packages resting neatly at her feet, Petunia smiled, happily anticipating Dudley's excitement over the nibbles and sweets that she'd carefully chosen for him. It was going to be so nice to have him back in the house where he belonged. Even if it was just for a fortnight.

The clerk behind the counter handed her the slip and she quickly signed it, studiously avoiding the total on the bottom so she didn't have a small panic attack. When she handed it back, the very nice lady who had taken care of her nodded to the other two staff members and one of them immediately moved to collect Petunia's shopping as well.

"They're going to take it all up to the door for us," Wendy told her with great satisfaction. "So we don't have to worry about carrying it ourselves. Isn't that lovely?"

"Yes," Petunia agreed, feeling somewhat special again. "Very lovely. What a relief."

She smiled widely as she was divested of the bags she was holding, but still kept a close eye on the two young men who now had possession of her extravagant splurge as they started towards the staircase. She wasn't planning on letting them get too far away from her. You never know how unscrupulous some people could be with merchandise that had already been paid for.

"Shall we go?"

Petunia turned to Wendy and gave her a nod in the direction of the stairs as well, more than ready to be on her way. The young men, who obviously were used to this kind of chore, were already halfway up the stairs and moving at fast clip.

"Oh yes," Wendy nodded. But then she suddenly noticed the display of colorful macarons and decided that she must have a dozen.

The clerk behind the counter was fast and efficient, and she also assured a nervous Petunia that the staff would stay with the shopping until the ladies arrived at the exit door. But that didn't put Petunia in any kind of a better mood and she was rather put out when she snapped at Wendy.

"Could we go now, please?"

The congestion of shoppers on the floor seemed to have increased ten fold by the time the two women were walking towards the grand spiral staircase, and Petunia was harried and distracted as she tried to thread her way past a large group of people who, by the emblems on their matching shirts, all seemed to be part of some kind of tour.

So she wasn't even close to being as cool and collected as she usually tried to present herself when she came face to face with the absolute last person that she wanted to see.

"Aunt Petunia?"

Petunia blinked in shock. Surely this had to be some kind of hallucination brought on by the rising high blood pressure stemming from the pushy crowds and stressing over whether or not her purchases were waiting for her or had already been secreted away into the employee break room.

But unfortunately, it was neither of those things.

Because, before she knew it, Wendy was next to her and also staring at the black haired boy standing on the last step of the staircase.

"What are you doing here?"

Wendy's voice wasn't exactly friendly. In fact it was quite horrified. And Petunia couldn't really blame her since she and Vernon had been very vocal about the absence of their nephew being due to his full time incarceration in a place for criminally incurable boys. It was the only way they could think of explaining why the boy wasn't going to be coming back for the summers anymore.

"Aren't you supposed to be at that secure center for delinquents?

"Um..."

Too late Petunia realized that the boy wasn't alone. From the throng traversing the stairs, that insane Black man came out of nowhere and deftly swept Harry off to the side out of foot traffic, his hand resting on one of the boy's shoulder protectively.

"Good afternoon, Petunia," he said calmly. "What a surprise to see you here."

Petunia could see Wendy sizing Black up, and the other woman wasn't entirely displeased with what she saw.

If pressed, Petunia would admit that the man had some handsomeness to him despite the freakishness, but he also didn't seem to be the type to wear those absurd robes either, as she hadn't ever seen him in one.

Today he was attired in an admittedly chic and collarless black suit coat that fell to the mid-thigh of his nicely pressed matching trousers. His hair, far too long for a man in Petunia's opinion, was at least neat and tidy where it brushed his shoulders, and there was an enormous glittering stone on his tie tack that, if she had to guess, was likely a real diamond.

"What was this I heard about a center for delinquents?" Black asked curiously, returning them to their earlier conversation.

"This boy," Wendy said, indicating Harry with a nudge of her head. "He's supposed to be locked up. Not out with decent people. And who are you? Why are you here?"

Black looked down at the boy who just shrugged and rolled his eyes and they looked like they were having a silent conversation with each other. Petunia shuddered.

Was it possible that they could read each other's minds too?

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about Miss...?"

Black raised his eyebrows and waited for Wendy to supply the information about her identity and she managed to recover herself enough to do so, albeit with a frown on her face over being questioned.

"It's Missus," she answered haughtily. "Missus George Polkiss. My husband is a well known barrister."

"Well," Black said with a small chuckle, "Missus Polkiss, as I said, I'm not sure what you are speaking of. Harry certainly isn't locked up in any kind of center. Perhaps you have him mistaken for someone else?"

"We really need to be going," Petunia insisted as she tried to grab Wendy's arm to drag her away. "I'm sure they're waiting for us upstairs."

But Wendy was not going to be deterred. She pulled her arm out of Petunia's loose grasp and stood her ground. As tenacious as any bulldog with a bone. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.

"I'm not mistaken Mister...?"

Black smirked, clearly amused by her attempts to imitate him. He held out a hand in greeting which Petunia couldn't stop her companion from taking, since there was no way she could tell the other woman the true nature of Black without exposing her own family.

"Black," he answered as they shook. "I can assure you that there's been some kind of mistake.

Fuming, Petunia pressed her lips together so tight that they disappeared. It was her worst nightmare come true right in her favorite store. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, her only choices were the mortification of standing here in front of two of the people she hated most in the world making small talk or charging off in a huff and having the story of her behavior make the rounds in the neighborhood by dinnertime.

"No, no," Wendy insisted. "No mistake. Petunia is this boy's aunt. She was very clear that he had to be sent away to a reform school for hopeless cases." She turned to Petunia. "What was the name of it again?"

"Saint Brutus'," Petunia whispered, her throat suddenly very dry.

"That's it," Wendy crowed in triumph as she turned back to Black. "Saint Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys!"

"What an odd thing to say," Black said in amusement. To Petunia's horror, he turned to the boy with a smirk on his face. "Is this some sort of private game you played when you lived with the Dursleys, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer, but Petunia could seen that Black was subtly pulling the boy closer to his side before he turned back to Wendy, who was on the verge of a fit.

"Petunia," Wendy demanded, not taking her eyes off of Black, "didn't you say that your nephew had to be schooled someplace special because of his bad behavior? He's been going there for years, hasn't he?"

Before she could formulate any kind of reasonable answer, Black chuckled darkly and shook his head.

"My goodness, Petunia. You do have quite the imagination. No, Misuss Polkiss. I'm sorry. You're quite mistaken. Harry left Little Whinging to attend Clifton."

And with that, any hope Petunia had for keeping this little encounter away from the prying ears of Little Whinging went flying out the window.

Wendy's eyes went wide, since everyone in Britain knew the name of Clifton Academy.

It was a legendary boarding school. Right up there in notoriety with Eton, Harrow and Charterhouse where George Junior had attended.

But despite its somewhat stellar reputation, very little was really known about Clifton outside of the rumors. Some said that it was attended only by royalty and the children of other world leaders. Others that it was so remote that no one truly knew the location unless they were a student there themselves. Clifton was so elite that acceptance was only offered once, at birth and also that it was so expensive that noble families who had fallen on hard times pawned their family jewels just to pay for the fees.

The list of wild tales about it went on and on.

Very few people actually knew someone who claimed to be a graduate of Clifton, and almost all of them were liars.

Because what people like Petunia knew, but the rest of the Muggle world didn't, was that it was the school name used by the wizarding world to explain where the Muggle-born children went after they got their acceptance letters to Hogwarts.

After all, families usually had extended relatives, co-workers and friends who would wonder where their son or daughter disappeared to for ten months out of the year, and Lily had once said that it amused the magical world to build up the fictional school in reputation just to keep the Muggles in awe.

But because one of the rumors attached to Clifton was that acceptance ran in the family, Petunia had simply refused to tell anyone that it was where her sister was schooled. It had been enough that she'd been overlooked for admission to Hogwarts when she so desperately wanted to go, but to have to endure the pitying looks from people who would look down on her for not being good enough to attend a noble institution like the famed Clifton was simply too much to bear.

Wendy was staring at her accusingly, and Petunia knew with all certainty that her neat and tidy little lie was about to go up in flames.

"Why wouldn't you just say that your nephew went to Clifton?" her neighbor demanded. "It's such a posh institution, and you know how frightened some of the older residents in the neighborhood have been about Harry possibly coming back into the area and doing something terrible if he was angry enough."

"I admit that I'm confused as well," Black said with a sorrowful shake of his head that Petunia knew was entirely feigned. "After all, it's not as if it was a surprise considering both of his parents attended there as well. Harry's name was put down on the list the day he was born."

Now Wendy really was gobsmacked, having used what little common sense she possessed to put two and two together and not liking the outcome.

"Your own sister went to Clifton? Why did you never say? Did you go too? It's a family tradition, isn't it?"

Mercifully Petunia was spared the need to answer right away as they were suddenly joined by two other women and girl that looked vaguely familiar. If she had to guess, these were more of those people, even if they were all dressed quite smartly instead of in more of the ridiculous robes that they seemed to favor.

"I love family traditions," the pretty lady with her hair in a flawless French Twist said as she slipped her arm into Black's. "What are we talking about?"

He smiled down at her and put his hand over hers before turning back to Petunia and Wendy.

"Schooling at Clifton. Actually, we all attended there."

"Well not all of us," the taller brunette woman said with a laugh. "Only my daughter was gifted enough to be asked in our family."

"My apologies," Black replied to her with a sheepish grin. "You certainly would have fit right in with the rest of us, Jean. I sometimes forget. Missus Dursley, Missus Polkiss, may I introduce Doctor Jean Granger and her lovely daughter Hermione? And this beautiful lady on my arm is my cousin Andromeda. This is Harry's Aunt Petunia, ladies, and her friend Misuss Polkiss."

Andromeda's smile became clearly forced as she silently assessed Petunia and ignored Wendy completely. She was clearly old money, as evidenced by her vintage black Chanel suit and matching pumps. The gold, black and green Hermès scarf draped artfully over her shoulder and the Birkin bag dangling from her wrist. Petunia knew just enough about fashion to know that this woman's ensemble probably cost more than the first nice car she and Vernon ever bought.

"So you're Aunt Petunia," Andromeda purred with veiled disdain. "We've heard so much about you."

It was a simple remark, but one that somehow the witch made sound like a threat, and Petunia felt a chill go up her spine. She had no doubt that somewhere hidden under all that couture fabric was a wand that could inflict a lot of pain and suffering on her if this cousin wanted to do so.

In the meantime, Wendy was still trying to figure out who these people were that obviously had a connection, however slight, to her long-time neighbor.

Of course she'd seen the boy before on many occasions. Not that he wasn't always easily recognizable with that black hair of his that still seemed to fly about everywhere. But Harry did look quite a bit different now that Wendy was taking a second look at him.

He was dressed nicely in an expensive polo shirt and pressed trousers, which fit him like a glove compared to the bulky rags he used to wear. Proper shoes with a good shine and hard soles. Even his thin gold glasses were quite different from those black rimmed plastic jobs he seemed to fancy.

Wendy had always wondered why the fastidious Petunia allowed any child in her household to roam around looking like a common beggar. She'd always wave it away as Harry being belligerent when she tried to get him to dress better. But here the boy was looking perfectly neat and tidy, which was probably no wonder considering that the others with Harry were obviously people of substance.

The shorter brunette hanging off Mister Black's arm looked like she'd just stepped off of a fashion plate, and the younger woman standing on the other side of Harry's new guardian, the one introduced as Doctor, was dressed in sensible but nicely tailored clothing. Her daughter, quite a pretty little thing despite the unfortunate hair, was also well attired.

These weren't the kind of people that Wendy had been led to believe were part of the Potter boy's new circle.

She and Petunia would definitely be having words about this all later.

"Forgive me, Mister Black," Wendy said, shaking her head in confusion, "but how do you fit into all of this?"

"He's the boy's godfather," Petunia couldn't help saying, her annoyance over being caught evident in her disgusted tone.

For a split second, Black's composure faulted as a brief flash of anger flitted across his face as he glared at her.

"Actually," he said, turning back to Wendy, "I'm Harry's father. The adoption went through just a few weeks ago. That's why Harry won't be returning to Little Whinging. I would have liked to take Harry right away after his parents died. Unfortunately, some people thought it better that he live with his blood relations. But at least it all worked out in the end."

All of Black's party were staring hard at Petunia, and she tried to look as dignified as she could under the circumstances. She knew that there was no way that this encounter wasn't going to be making the rounds at all of the houses in the neighborhood by tea time tomorrow. The only consolation was that the boy didn't look any happier than she did as he fidgeted under Black's hand.

Black looked down at the boy and frowned before pulling a fat billfold from the inner pocket of his suit coat. He withdrew a thick wad of pound notes and held them out to Harry, and Petunia nearly fell into a faint when she saw by the colors of the notes that the amount had to be more than twice the fortune she had just paid at the counters.

"Harry, why don't you take Hermione and go and buy some treats, okay kiddo? Anything you want. We'll be along shortly."

Looking relieved, Harry took the money and turned to go. But something stopped him at the last second and he lifted his head up just enough to give Petunia one more glance as the girl subtly shifted over to his side and took his hand in hers.

"Goodbye, Aunt Petunia."

Petunia couldn't force herself to speak even if she tried. There was something completely final about the way he said it, not that she'd ever expected to encounter him again in the first place. But there was a nagging little voice in her head that unhelpfully pointed out that it was surely the last time that she'd ever see her sister's beautiful eyes, even if the sight of them on the boy always made her feel vaguely sick.

She kept her silence as the two teenagers turned their backs on her and walked away.

"My, that was very generous of you, Mr. Black," Wendy observed slightly shocked and very impressed. "I'm sure he can buy quite a lot for that."

Sirius wasn't looking at Wendy when he answered. Instead he leveled that cool stare of his directly in Petunia's direction. There was hatred in his eyes, even though his tone remained exceptionally polite.

"Yes, well. You know how it is with young boys," he said smoothly. "They get hungry so easily. Harry seemed practically starved when he came to live with me, and a good parent always makes sure that their children have plenty to eat."

Petunia flinched. She simply couldn't help herself. The boy obviously had been telling tales, since that remark was clear at stab at her. It wasn't her fault that the little monster couldn't behave himself and needed to be punished occasionally.

"I know," Wendy laughed, obviously feeling more at ease, even though Petunia knew that the other woman would be shredding her later. The cutting remark had gone right over her shallow head. "My Piers could eat us out of house and home! And I know that Petunia used to run to the market almost every day."

"I'm sure she did," Sirius nodded with a hard smile. He appeared to be enjoying Petunia's discomfort immensely and she steeled herself for when he would actually voice the accusation he seemed so eager to make.

"We spent a small fortune ourselves today, Mr. Black," Wendy tittered, that little girlish giggle to her voice grating on every last nerve Petunia had. "And we really do need to be on our way as they've had to call for a couple of clerks to bring up our parcels to the main door. Petunia and I simply couldn't carry it all ourselves. I just hope it all fits in my husband's new Jaguar, but I'm sure it will be fine. They're quite roomy cars, you know."

Wendy's overt attempt at bragging was borderline embarrassing and Petunia could see that the two women with Black were looking at her neighbor like she was the silliest thing they ever saw.

"Well, then we won't keep you," the Chanel suited brunette said with a patronizing smile. "We have some shopping of our own to do before we leave for the theater."

"Oh, I love the theater," Wendy gushed, momentarily forgetting that they should be leaving and raising Petunia's blood pressure even higher. "But since we moved to the suburbs, we rarely do things like that. Do you go often?"

"Sadly, no," Black answered with a polite smile. "I do have a little flat in town, but Harry and I live at our country estate most of the time."

He glanced quickly over to the confectionery counter where Petunia could see Harry talking to the clerk and excitedly pointing at the same row of chocolate caramel truffles that she'd just purchased for Dudley.

Harry had lived in Petunia's home for twelve years, more or less, but she wouldn't have been able to say whether or not Harry liked caramels. The uncomfortable pain in her stomach wasn't from the knowledge that she'd never given the boy any treats when she'd bought them for her son.

No, not at all.

Surely it was just the stress of knowing that the ride back to Little Whinging was going to be a tense one.

Black's cousin laughed at him and patted his arm. "Siri, only you would call a four bedroom penthouse in the center of London 'a little flat'." She turned to Petunia and Wendy and gave them a sly smirk. "Men. They have no idea at all, do they ladies?"

Wendy was suitably impressed, as Petunia was sure Black's cousin meant them to be. She knew that the type of people like Black and his companions usually eschewed going on about their wealth, so she was sure that the disclosure was for Wendy's benefit as it compared the boy's old situation to his superb new one.

"We really do need to be going," Petunia growled insistently. She'd had quite enough for one day.

"Yes, yes," Wendy said irritably. You could see that she was enjoying this unexplored trove of information involving her very proper neighbor. "Thank you, Mister Black, for clearing up some finer details for me."

Black smiled cruelly as he held his hand out again. "It was my pleasure Missus Polkiss," he said as he leaned over to elegantly kiss Wendy's hand. "I've enjoyed the opportunity as well."

Wendy simpered like a fool, having fallen hook, line and sinker for the deranged man's infuriating charm and Petunia tried to rally herself as much as possible. It was fine right here near the staircase to have this conversation, but she wasn't looking forward to the one that would follow.

"You'll have to bring Harry back for a visit, Mister Black," Wendy insisted, looking over at Petunia for her approval. "Won't he, Petunia?"

"I assure you," Black answered firmly, his eyes narrowed at Petunia like he wished her dead, "that Harry and I want to come back and visit Little Whinging just as much as Mister and Missus Dursley want us there."

If Wendy caught the hidden meaning in his words she didn't show it, and mercifully Petunia was finally released from her mortifying confinement as Black and the others moved to join the teenagers at the cake counter. Petunia practically ran up the stairs as if she had the devil himself chasing her, and she decided right then and there that maybe Harrods wasn't such a bad place after all.

Thankfully one of the staff members was still patiently waiting with their parcels, although he looked quite put out and Petunia threw a few pounds at him without even a proper thank you. George and Vernon were waiting impatiently in the car, neither of them getting out to assist with packing the boot. The one blessing was that the drive back wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

While Wendy couldn't wait to share the news of the chance meeting, Vernon stared at Petunia in the rear view mirror in horror, but he quickly got with the program and the two of them managed to spin an almost believable tale of how Clifton Academy encouraged its students to invent fanciful stories of what they were doing besides attending the very hush-hush school.

George Polkiss clearly didn't believe it, being somewhat more logical than his ditzy wife, but Wendy swallowed it whole which was the important thing. After all, she would be the one spreading the rumors. And as long as she was able to be the one to enlighten their neighbors on how exciting Petunia's family really was, it was an even trade for her.

At home Vernon didn't yell, but he wasn't quite so jolly anymore either. He didn't exactly blame her, but there was a certain look in his eyes that Petunia hadn't seen in quite some time that made her sure that her husband had found her somewhat lacking.

That evening, they collected Dudley on schedule and when they got home Petunia was summarily ignored by the men in her life as Vernon and Dudley talked boxing and championships without feeling a need to include her in the conversation as they tucked into the bounty of her afternoon's labors.

She felt an unwelcome shift in her happy home and it stirred up long forgotten memories.

Later that night, Petunia slipped from the bed she shared with her wide husband and quietly crept downstairs.

She opened the door to the cupboard where the boy used to sleep and pulled the metal chain of the single, dim bulb that hung down and slightly illuminated the space. The small camp bed had been removed a couple of years ago, so there was room for her to enter it without bumping into anything, and she reached up to pull away a wooden slat in the wall to reveal a hidden compartment. From the depths she retrieved a box covered in dust that she casually brushed off and opened it to reveal a mass of white tissue paper.

Very carefully, she unfolded the tissue to reveal a soft yellow blanket. Primrose yellow, for her Mum.

It was slightly faded but still beautiful. With a painful flash, she remembered the happy smile on her sister's face when their mother had presented them both with the layettes, so carefully created by her loving hands. The way Lily's eyes sparkled like emeralds and looked at Petunia once again with all the adoration of a little sister as the two of them shared a rare close moment with each other.

There was a hole in her heart that had never been able to be filled by a little black haired boy.

Because Petunia hadn't been strong enough to allow it.

And now it was too late.

Sinking down to the floor, the blanket held close against her chest, Petunia sat in the cupboard and cried.

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

A sudden flash of light illuminated the curtains of Sirius' bedroom, bright enough to wake him from his fitful slumber. Outside, a steady stream of rain was cascading down from the dark, roiling clouds as the grumbles of thunder echoed in the distance.

It was nothing more than a garden variety spring storm. Just one of many that regularly passed over England. As normal as the sun coming up each morning.

As a child, Sirius had enjoyed thunderstorms. He'd sneak out of his bed and creep quietly up the back stairs of Grimmauld Place to the top floor playroom, where he'd curl up on one of the padded window seats and watch nature's light show dazzling over London. The gentle rhythm of raindrops plonking on the ground soothed and comforted him, often making him drowsy after a fashion, and it wasn't unusual for him to fall asleep where he sat.

The first sounds of morning in the City, noisy street traffic and hurrying pedestrians alike would be his alarm clock to wake up and scurry back to his room before Walburga's shrill voice echoed through the townhouse, commanding her children to breakfast.

But once, when Sirius was eight years old, he'd been found in the playroom by his father while watching an especially impressive storm blow in.

It was very late, well after three o'clock in the morning, but Orion was still dressed in the robes he'd worn at breakfast the day before, which meant that he'd not yet been to bed. From the smell of the cloud of firewhiskey that surrounded him, Sirius could tell that his father had been drinking rather heavily again.

Orion was usually quite cruel when he was inebriated, and Sirius had instinctively pressed his back against the corner of the window seat as much as he could in order to make himself as small of a target as possible. Holding very still, he'd watched as his father staggered over to him, an indecipherable look on his face.

To the boy's surprise however, the yelling he expected didn't come. Nor did the blows that he usually received for anything Orion considered misbehavior, which being out of his bed in the middle of the night certainly qualified as.

But on this particular night, Orion didn't lash out at his son in his usual fashion. Instead he'd joined Sirius on the window seat, landing heavily against the thick glass window panes, and he too gazed out at the vibrant night sky while his firstborn held his breath, careful to make no sudden movements that might otherwise trigger Orion's terrible rage.

'Magnificent, isn't it Siri?'

It took the boy a few seconds to realize that his father had spoken, so quiet was Orion's usually booming voice, and the use of the nickname was something Sirius had never heard from him before. The man's eyes were sad, a bit of softness to them that looked positively out of place.

Having Orion so calm was somehow even more frightening than his temper...

He turned then, looking down at his son with a hint of a smile on his face and Sirius realized that he was expected to answer.

'Yes, Father.'

Orion nodded, satisfied that his son shared his opinion and he turned his attention back out the window as an especially loud crack echoed. Already on edge, Sirius couldn't help jumping in surprise and a spike of fright shot through his belly when his father turned back to look at him. The boy steeled himself for a slap, but Orion simply narrowed his eyes briefly before his mouth quirked up into a tiny smile.

'That one was a little scary, yeah?'

Not trusting himself to speak, Sirius managed a small nod, the fingers of his suddenly damp hands nervously twining themselves into the fabric of his pajama pants.

'We're children of nature herself, Sirius,' Orion said with a thoughtful gaze out the rain splattered window. 'Special. Chosen as the ones with whom she shares the fruitful bounty of her powers.'

Sirius swallowed hard, not knowing what to make of his father's soft rambling. It was so out of character, he wasn't sure if it was maybe some kind of sign of escalation preceding Orion's temper. And he was there all alone. No one to beg for help if the drunk man chose to become excessively violent.

'Not like those Muggles,' he spat distastefully. 'Filthy and unworthy.'

Orion turned back to Sirius, his harsh glare turning back into an unnerving smile.

'Not like you, my son. You, Sirius, are a Black and you will do great things. Things that those animals could never even hope to understand. Won't you, boy.'

His breath hitching, Sirius quickly nodded, willing to do or say anything to keep Orion as calm as possible.

'Yes, Father.'

His assent pleased Orion by the way the man's bloodshot eyes shined down on him. Another loud crack boomed in the air and Sirius, his tender nerves already shot, trembled a little, knowing that he couldn't afford to look weak when he was being so closely examined.

'No need to be afraid, boy,' Orion chuckled drunkenly as he held his arms out. 'Nothing can hurt you while I'm here. Come.'

If Sirius hadn't been so terrified, he would have laughed at the absurdity of that claim. But he knew that the invitation wasn't something to be ignored. Tentatively, like someone moving towards a sleeping cobra, Sirius crawled across the window bench until he was pulled into his father's lap. His tiny face was pinched as he held his breath in fearful anticipation. It had been years since the last time that Orion had touched him without causing pain.

But, it turned out, he was worried for no reason that night.

Together, as if time was standing still, the two of them watched the storm rage, its sheets of rain lashing against trees and breaking off their branches to fly around in swirling circles like tiny broomsticks stuck in a vortex. Orion's arms were surprisingly warm and comforting around Sirius, almost enough to make him feel loved and protected in a way that was as wanted as it was disconcerting.

Bit by bit, Sirius felt himself letting his guard down.

After a time, with the winds dying down and the thunder rolling off into the distance, Sirius had somehow managed to relax enough to fall asleep to the sound of his father's beating heart where the boy lay against his chest.

But several hours later he was awoken by a cacophony of angry voices, slamming doors and shouted curses. He was alone in the room again and, realizing that it was late morning, he jumped from the window seat and bolted out the playroom door, quickly running down the stairs and then smack into an enraged Walbura.

His mother had been furious at finding him missing from his bed. Not worried, like a good mother should be, but absolutely furious that Sirius had dared to defy her by leaving his bedroom when he knew very well that he wasn't allowed to be out of it until she said so. She grabbed him by his hair and ruthlessly dragged him down two floors and straight towards his father's study.

Orion was sitting behind his desk when they crashed loudly through his door. His face, far different from the soft contemplative look of the wee hours, was its usual hard mask and he was immediately irritated by their unruly disruption. With a huff, Walburga ruthlessly shoved Sirius at the desk, the boy stumbling as he went, and she then proceeded to tell Orion that Sirius was out of his bed all night and then bellowed at her husband to make sure the boy understands that he is to always obey his mother.

Desperate and attempting to save himself, Sirius had tried to remind Orion that he had been upstairs in the playroom watching the storm. Begging him to explain to Walburga that they'd been there together for hours, and that Sirius had fallen asleep in his father's arms without realizing it.

It was the brief flash of recognition in Orion's eyes that quickly morphed into a scowl that let Sirius know that his cause was lost.

Rising to his full height, Orion scoffed at being accused of doing something as silly as watching a storm, and he angrily called Sirius a liar before dragging him over the desk and holding him down until Sirius' face was painfully pressed against the dark mahogany. Without the slightest hesitation, his father conjured a long leather strap and immediately began to beat Sirius with it while his mother looked on in satisfaction.

And when Sirius cried, it wasn't from the pain of the whip.

Another flash of lightning jolted Sirius out of his reverie and he sat up and moved to the edge of his bed and rubbed his face. He tried hard to forget about times like that in his childhood. They only served to anger him.

He'd made his peace a long time ago with the fact that his parents were especially horrible people.

Looking out the window, he saw dark, angry clouds swirling in the sky, a technicolor light show crackling at their edges. It would have been a good night for Harry and the others to take their potions if they'd been ready. Sirius was excited but a little nervous about his son's animagus journey beginning. He didn't want Harry to grow up too fast, but it seemed that the days were just whizzing by.

Most parents probably felt the same.

Knowing that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon, Sirius stood and stretched. He had a craving for a mug of hot cocoa.

Well, he actually had a craving for a glass of Firewhisky, but the cocoa would do.

Pulling on a robe over his pajamas, he wriggled his feet into the soft slippers next to his bed and yawned as he made his way out to the flat's kitchen. Harry's little shopping adventure and the awkward encounter with Petnuia in the food hall had convinced Sirius that it was time to stock the flat with groceries. Not that they couldn't just call one of the elves, but Sirius decided that if they were going to spend some time living among the Muggles, they should probably try to act like them.

Besides, having a little non-magical autonomy was good for both of them. It was good practice just in case Harry ever needed to disappear into the Muggle world, although that thought wasn't particularly comforting.

Shuffling his way down the hall and towards the living room, Sirius was startled by the sound of a fire popping in the hearth, and even more by the sight of someone sitting on the sofa. It took his addled brain a second to realize that it was his son.

"Harry?" Sirius called out worriedly, a small bit of panic rising inside of him. "What are you doing in here, little one? Are you okay?"

Looking up guiltily from his place on the sofa, Harry grimaced as he took in his father's confused face. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't paid attention to how long he'd been sitting there, and it was only the lower flames of the fire he'd built up that indicated how much time had passed.

"Yes, Papa," he answered, nodding his head. "I'm fine. Just lost track of time."

With nothing apparently amiss, Sirius reached up to sweep a few stray hairs out of his face and walked over to the sofa. Harry drew his legs up to make room for his father and Sirius dropped down next to him, patting his knee in concern.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Shaking his head, Harry wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered a little. Immediately, Sirius pulled the bright red throw that decorated the back of the sofa and draped it around his son's thin shoulders before flicking his wand at the hearth to make it roar back to life.

"Not a nightmare, no," Harry said quietly as he snuggled into the warmth of the thick chenille. A small smile ghosted across his face as he peeked up at his father. "I had a dream about my Mum and Dad."

Outside there was a flash of bright lightning just a split second before a heavy rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as the storm really began to pick up. Both wizards reflexively turned to look out the large windows and caught a glimpse of the thick rain drops pelting against the glass and sounding like tiny stones peppering the side of the penthouse. Sirius turned back around to his son and couldn't help noticing how calm and relaxed Harry seemed as he watched the storm outside.

The boy didn't appear at all distressed, like he normally did after a bad dream or a night terror. On the contrary, Harry looked oddly content in the soft glow of the firelight.

"Was it a good dream?" Sirius ventured, smiling a bit himself when Harry turned to him and grinned.

"Really good. It was about the adoption ceremony. They were there."

Sirius finally noticed the small picture frame that was sitting on the table next to them. It was the photo of James and Lily on their wedding day, with Sirius, the best man in the middle, an arm wrapped around each of them. One of the happiest days of all during the time of war, right up to the day Harry was born.

"Were they?" he asked curiously as he took the frame into his hands. "What were they doing?"

"They were there to congratulate us," Harry answered with a huge smile. "To tell us that they were happy that we were finally together, as a family."

It was only a dream, but somehow Harry's excited little declaration made the knot in the center of Sirius' chest, the one that permanently lived there from the guilt of raising Harry when his friends weren't there to do it themselves, loosen up considerably.

"That's wonderful, kiddo," Sirius said with a soft smile as he reached out to run an affectionate hand over the top of Harry's head. "Wherever they are, I'm sure that they are happy. They'd want to know that you are living with someone who loves you very much."

Harry ducked his head, his cheeks turning pink in the firelight as a small smile danced around his lips. He hadn't said anything about their encounter with Petunia earlier that day and Sirius hadn't wanted to force the issue. Quite frankly he'd been expecting a nightmare or two as Harry's subconscious dealt with seeing her again when he wasn't even prepared for it but, to his surprise, Harry seemed surprisingly unbothered by it all.

"I love you too," the boy replied, peeking up to grin at Sirius.

A suddenly startling crack of light illuminated the entire sky and they heard as sharp sizzle close by as a section of the London skyline went dark.

"Wow," the boy laughed, "it's really getting wild out there."

Sirius hummed in agreement and nodded. "I was thinking that it was too bad you haven't assembled the potion yet. This would have been an excellent storm for completing it."

Harry rubbed his cheek absently where the leaf was tucked under his gums. One more day. He couldn't wait to have the annoying thing out of his mouth tomorrow night and was looking forward to that almost as much as actually finding out what his animagus form was.

"Think we'll get another storm like this one soon?"

Nodding at the hopeful look on his son's face, Sirius leaned back against the sofa cushion and gazed out the window.

"It's the right time of the year," he assured the worried boy. "Especially where we live. I'm sure that there will be an opportunity to take the potion very soon after the upcoming full moon."

Harry already knew this, of course.

There had been a very serious discussion on just this topic last week between Sirius and the other parents during the arguments over breaking for the Easter holiday. With all the children working on the animagus spell, their parents had needed to agree to stay relatively close by instead of taking any long distance trips, because once the thirty days were up, Harry and the others would have to assemble the potion and perform a ritual twice a day until the next electrical storm.

"That'll make Neville's gran happy," Harry said with a little shudder.

Madam Longbottom had been the most put out by the travel restriction, having already planned a trip to a seaside cottage in Mallorca as a treat for Neville for the drastic improvement in his grades. She'd floo'ed over to the manor specifically to give Sirius a very loud piece of her mind, treating the thirty-six year old headmaster and father like a recalcitrant schoolboy.

It was only when Sirius reminded the formidable witch that Neville wasn't required to undertake the process as part of his schooling that had her backing down. The look on Neville's stricken face over the idea of being left behind in something his friends were doing worked to curb Augusta's annoyance over the disruption of their holiday as well.

Sirius felt bad for the timid boy, who did indeed deserve praise for his scholastic performance, especially when his grandmother was so reluctant to give it. So he'd stepped in and offered the Maldives villa to the Longbottoms for a couple of weeks during the summer as a compromise. Knowing that they'd need a good long break after the Tournament, he and Harry already had plans to spend a large part of the summer touring continental Europe and the various Black and Potter family properties that they owned there.

Harry let out a huge yawn that had Sirius glancing at the clock on the mantle above where the fire was slowly dying again.

"I think it's time for you to get some sleep, young man," Sirius scolded mildly, tugging at one of the cuffs of Harry's pajama pants. "It's very late."

Grudgingly, Harry nodded before yawning again, his mouth opening so wide that Sirius could see a bit of the leaf peeking out.

"You're clearly tired, you nutter," he teased as he stood up and reached out to pull a now scowling Harry from the couch as well. "My own grumpy little night owl."

Harry huffed as he allowed himself to be guided towards the hall. "You're up too," he pointed out behind the hand hiding another yawn. "Shouldn't you be asleep as well?"

"Probably," Sirius admitted as he steered Harry into his room and towards the bed. "The storm woke me up, and I was planning on having some cocoa before I saw someone out of his bed in the middle of the night."

Harry smiled sheepishly as he burrowed into his large pile of plump pillows while Sirius drew the blanket over him.

"Get some rest, little one," Sirius said softly as he bent over to kiss Harry's forehead. "You have a big day tomorrow. Or night, rather. You'll be up very late assembling the potion. You might need a nap the next day."

Against his will, Harry felt his eyes drift closed as his father's gentle fingers begin to stroke his hair. It was ridiculous how easily Sirius was able to lull him to sleep with just a few smooth motions.

However, he was still a stubborn teenager.

"You know," the boy began, opening his eyes back up to scowl adorably, "I don't really need all of the hours of sleep you insist I get. I'm going to be fifteen in a few months, and ten o'clock is awfully early to be going to bed every night at that age."

Sirius pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow at his kid, masterfully attempting to keep his mirth to himself. It wouldn't do to show his son that he found Harry's attempt to cajole a later bedtime amusing.

"Hmmm," he mused, leaning back a bit and pretending to assess Harry. "You don't seem to be old enough to be a seventh year student, and I'm pretty sure that curfew for fourth years at Hogwarts is still ten o'clock."

Harry rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms on his chest, a bit put out by his father now openly grinning at him.

"Yeah," the boy scoffed. "Like you and my Dad went right to bed after curfew. Sure. The ones who became animagi without anyone else finding out, and spent a million nights out in the Forbidden Forest with a werewolf."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sirius snorted with open sarcasm. "Were you somehow expecting that argument to persuade me? Sadly for you kiddo, all that means is that I have a very vivid idea of how dangerous our little escapades were, which also means that the chances of you being allowed to follow in our footsteps are exactly nil."

The boy's mouth dropped open in shock, but the sharp look on his father's face, the one that warned him that Sirius wasn't entirely playing around anymore, stopped him from taking that line of thought any further.

"That's so entirely unfair," Harry whinged as Sirius tucked the blankets around him a little tighter.

His case was hardly helped by the rather large yawn that practically split his face in half as he snuggled further into his warm blankets. Sirius gazed down at his child, his eyes warm with affection as he resumed stroking Harry's wild locks. Despite himself, the boy hummed happily, the gentle movement relaxing him as the late hour finally began taking its toll.

Really Sirius wasn't trying to be mean or controlling by making his son stick to a set schedule for sleep. Harry just worked hard and had a bad habit of pushing himself to the absolute limits of physical endurance. If not for his father prodding him into his bed at a reasonable hour every night, Sirius knew the boy would keel over before admitting that he was exhausted.

"We'll talk about relaxing your bedtime after the term is over," he promised softly, unable to deny his son anything in his power to give. "But only during the summer, mind you."

Harry smiled again, even as he kept his eyes closed, and he squirmed around a bit, careful not to dislodge his father's soothing hand as he turned on his side and wrapped his arms around one of his fluffy pillows. Sirius felt a wave of painful nostalgia wash over him as he remembered all the times baby Harry had cuddled the same way with the stuffed stag toy that James had given his infant son on the first and only Christmas they spent together.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I think tomorrow is going to be a good day."