"Sirius?" asked Harry, after they had arrived at Grimmauld Place. "Where should I put my stuff?"
Sirius chuckled, realizing he hadn't shown Harry his designated room. During the previous year, he and his friends had roomed together, even though his childhood home contained more than enough bedrooms for their entire year at Hogwarts.
"Here, I'll show you," he said, smiling kindly at Harry.
They walked up the stairs, Sirius leading the way, until they reached a room next to his own. He'd prepared it before Harry had finished his fifth year, thinking he would want to be close to him, and not knowing the extent of his nightmares at the time. The nightmares had diminished, to an extent, with Occlumency lessons, but Sirius wasn't naive enough to believe they would disappear entirely. Not until Voldemort had been defeated and the Death Eaters dead or in Azkaban, at any rate.
Sirius opened the door to reveal a large room-the smallest bedroom at his home easily rivaled the master bedroom at the Dursleys-with a large, four poster bed in the center. A bedside table with candles sat on one side, and the other was bare except for the double door set to a large closet. A roomy comfortable couch sat across from the bed, and a table in front of that. On the other side was a round table and several high back chairs, facing a fireplace. On the other side of the room sat a bookshelf (currently empty of books) and a dresser. The colors were fairly neutral, and there were no paintings on the wall that spoke or ogled you. Of course, the mirror was charmed to talk, but that couldn't be avoided in magical homes.
"I thought you'd stay here?" asked Sirius, turning towards Harry. "If you like, we can change the colors, perhaps make them more like Gryffindor? Or, if you'd rather be a bit further away from me..."
Harry shook his head. "No, this is great." Grinning a bit, he added, "I think it might be larger than my dorm at Hogwarts!"
Sirius chuckled. "You should see my parents's old room. On second thought, perhaps not. Anyway, you've seen mine. Our family was under the impression that each bedroom was to room a small family, and each house a class at Hogwarts."
Harry snorted. "They didn't do things halfway, did they?"
"'Course not. Wouldn't want to be a common pure blood, now would they?" Sirius shook his head in disgust, clenching his hands into fists, then took a couple of deep breaths and released them. "Anyway, glad you like it. Oh, and the wardrobe has extra pillows and blankets if you need them."
Harry nodded. "Thanks, Sirius. I guess I'll get unpacked and study before dinner?"
"Would you rather study downstairs?"
"Er, sure," Harry said, smiling a bit.
"We can start tutoring you with Potions tomorrow, but you can ask me any questions today."
"I'll probably have a lot. It's not exactly my best subject," Harry warned.
"You got an E," Sirius reminded him, gently. "I'm sure you're better than you think, pup."
Harry shrugged, then turned to his books. "I should get these sorted. And my trunk, too."
"All right. Let me know if you need anything," Sirius said, as he left the room.
He occupied himself in the sitting room with a book until he saw Harry emerge with his new copy of Advanced Potion-Making in hand. Harry sat down next to him, in a high backed chair, and began to read. Sirius tried not to stare at him too much, but kept sneaking glances. The child-teenager-was looked so very much James, especially with his head in a book.
Harry wasn't a carbon copy of his father. His nose was a bit shorter-thank Merlin-and while his father tended to tan in the hot sun, he noticed that Harry remained rather pale. There was also the matter of Lily's eyes, but anyone could see that. Harry had knobby knees, too, like Lily's father. His neck was a bit thinner, too. Those were just differences on the surface. Sirius imagined that he would see more if he could spend time comparing a photograph of the two side by side.
As Harry turned the page in concentration, Sirius saw that his godson was chewing his lip in concentration. That was something his mum used to do. Also, purse her lips. It used to drive James mad. Sirius smiled slightly at the memory.
"Harry?" he asked, speaking softly so as not to startle his godson.
Harry looked up, not startled, and certainly not jumpy.
Good.
"I thought we could go over the first three chapters tomorrow and start brewing," he said, softly.
Harry nodded. "Sure. I just started the second one. I figured I would read them twice?"
"Good idea, pup," Sirius answered, making a mental note to look over the contents before their lesson the next day. "If you have any questions now, you can ask me."
Harry shrugged. "Trying to get the hang of it for now."
Sirius nodded. "Smart. That's what your dad used to do. Read over everything once for the basics, then the second time more carefully."
Harry smiled a bit at this, and Sirius put a hand on his.
Then, Harry went back to his reading, and Sirius did the same.
It was a couple of hours before Sirius realized he should start dinner. As Harry was still absorbed in his book, Sirius rose quietly, setting off to the kitchen to check what food they had remaining. He wasn't concerned about running low on food-the Order still used the location as headquarters, and more often than not, they are there. Opening the cupboards and shelves, Sirius found enough food to keep a class of teenage boys for several weeks.
Sirius had been told by many that he was a good cook, but hadn't been able to prepare meals that didn't involve rats since before his arrest. Molly Weasley had taken over the cooking during the last summer and Christmas holidays, and he hadn't bothered to protest. Now, though, it was just him and Harry, and while his godson ate whatever was put in front of him without complaint, Sirius had managed to gather a list of his favorites, simply by observation. Treacle tart was his favorite dessert, but he also loved ice cream and anything with chocolate. Pies with vegetables or meat seemed to be among his favorite dinners, so Sirius decided on a chicken pot pie for dinner that evening. He located the ingredients and began to work. Before long, the familiar smells drafted around the kitchen. As the meal cooked, he decided to make a chocolate cake for dessert.
He was about to call Harry when the boy-teenager-came in, his book still in hand. Glancing at the food on the table, Harry grinned.
"Reckon that I'm on time?" he asked.
Sirius removed his protective apron and grinned back. "Perfect timing, in fact. I was just about to call you."
The cake was still in the oven, but Sirius had used a charm not unlike a muggle timer, so the oven would turn off once the cake was finished. The oven would also cool down to room temperature, so he would not risk burning his hands when he retrieved the pan. Of course, he would still use a protective oven mitt for the pan itself.
They sat down to eat. Before taking a bite, Sirius spoke up.
"Harry, if there's anything you prefer to eat, or hate to eat, please let me know, all right?"
"Sure, but this all looks really good," he answered, happily.
Sirius chuckled. "Hope so. I used to cook a lot...before. Others ended up taking over that role in the past year. Not that I minded, but let's hope it's like, as the muggle expression goes, riding a horse."
Harry took a bite, and his face lit up. "Wow! It's really good, Sirius."
Sirius tasted the dish and found that Harry wasn't exaggerating. He smiled to himself as he ate more.
While at the Dursleys, the two of them had eaten their meals in tense silence, trying to eat the food quickly and leave, before the tension caused someone to explode. Here, Sirius noted, while far more relaxed, they still mostly ate without much small talk. Still, it was the companionable kind, and, now that Sirius remembered, it reminded him of when he'd visited James after he married Lily, but before Harry had been born. Perhaps, some things were hereditary.
Sirius suspected that he still didn't know the full extent to which Harry had suffered under the Dursleys. His knowedge about the cupboard, especially he'd even gone inside one night after Harry had gone to sleep, infuriated him. That would have been small for Padfoot, let alone an eleven year old boy! What else had the Dursleys resorted to doing to the boy they didn't want? Not that abuse could be just physical. Sirius was also certain that Harry had never received a hug-at least in his memory-before entering Hogwarts. Likely as not, he hadn't received many then. A professor who was very close to a student might be able to get away with putting a hand on the shoulder, but hardly anything else. Sirius had seen Hermione hug Harry on occasion, as well as Mrs. Weasley, but they likely didn't start until his second or third year.
He might not be a parent, but everyone knew that kids needed affection nearly as much as they needed love. His parents may not have been affectionate, but Andromeda had always greeted him with a hug, as had his favorite uncle. James, as Sirius had learned very early on, had also been very open with hugs. It had taken Sirius a few weeks to get used to, as he'd associated them with older adults and girls, but he certainly didn't mind them after the initial surprise. Remus, too, was rather physically demonstrative, as he had put it. Peter less so, but that had been him...
Sirius, even without knowing Harry's treatment, had felt something was off. While he'd wanted to give Harry hugs on numerous occasions, especially after seeing what he had faced during his fifth year, there was some awkwardness about the boy. A hand on the shoulder, Sirius could tell, was the most he seemed to be able to expect from most adults. It saddened him, but he'd never been able to broach the subject. Even after spending nearly half of his summer holidays and all of the Christmas ones together, the closest Sirius had managed was his attempt at a one armed hug at the end of the Christmas holidays. Harry had looked so earnest, so intent, and Sirius had meant to give him a full on hug before losing his nerve.
When he nearly died, nearly gone through the veil, Sirius had regretted not trying harder. Now, he felt, he had been given another chance, and he knew that he would do better this time.
After they had eaten dinner, Sirius smiled up at Harry. "Up for some dessert?"
"Sure," his pup answered, agreeably.
He retrieved the cake from the oven, summoned a knife, and placed it on the table.
"Your dad said I always made a great chocolate cake, and while Remus is a bit biased, he agreed. Let me know if you like it, all right?" Sirius asked, almost nervously.
At Harry's nod, he cut a medium sized slice for both of them.
"This is really good. Don't tell, but it's better than Mrs. Weasley's," Harry said, after swallowing a large piece.
After tasting it, Sirius had to agree. The matriarch of the exiled pure-blooded family made good cake, but it didn't have the same texture as his.
They cleaned their plates in a matter of minutes. Sirius was about to ask Harry if he wanted more, but he was already starting to get up.
"This was really good, Sirius. Maybe, I can help you a bit next time?" he asked, almost tentatively.
"I would be happy to have your help, pup," Sirius answered, grinning. With a wave of his wand, the dishes were clean. Another wave, and the cake was covered up, just in case there were any ants nearby wanting a late snack. "All done."
Harry looked at him with amazement, then chuckled a bit. "I still can't get over how you can do that with magic."
"You will, too. Might take a bit of practice, but there's no reason a smart wizard like you wouldn't be able to do all of this," Sirius assured him.
Harry grinned, then stood up. "Well, I think I'll get back to studying the book."
"I'll keep you company," Sirius offered.
The first lesson the following morning went well. While Sirius could understand why Harry had not received an Outstanding in his exam, he could see that Harry had talent for the subject. They spent the first hour going over the basics of the theory the first three chapters talked about, and why it was necessary to use potions rather than advanced charms.
"The Disillusionment Charm, for instance, can make you appear invisible and make your presence undetected by others," Sirius explained, "but there are times, especially as an Auror, where people will need to think you're physically present, and even another person. Of course, impersonating someone without cause can lead to a year in Azkaban, but Aurors have a lot of leeway with the law."
"Polyjuice also takes awhile to make," Harry pointed out. "When we were making it in our second year, there was an ingredient that needed a month before we could add it. I think," he added, uncertainly.
"That's because you were starting from scratch," Sirius corrected, gently. "Aurors have to be ready with any amount of potions on hand, so anything that requires time will have to be preprepared."
"By me?" Harry guessed.
Sirius nodded. "But it won't be guesswork. I never went through the training, but Tonks told me a bit about it, and they cover all of this. They won't want you to be unable to do your job because you don't have the right ingredients on hand."
After more discussion, Sirius and Harry went to a lab that, Harry was sure, rivaled what they used in Snape's dungeons.
Sirius chuckled, rather darkly, at the look on Harry's face.
"My dear dad enjoyed brewing potions for rather darker means. I suspect that he enjoyed the process of experimenting, personally. He held the same pure-blooded nonsense beliefs as my mum, but he didn't mutter slurs around the way she did. All the same, the idea of him using potions to kill muggle borns or otherwise make their life more unpleasant was enough for my mum to let him work in peace. I don't know what he actually did, and I don't think it was entirely innocent, but..." Sirius shrugged. "We have a lab and plenty of ingredients for us to work with."
After looking over some of the potions covered in the first chapter, Sirius decided to assign Harry the Draught of Living Death.
"It's rather more difficult than anything you have attempted, but I would like to see what you can do. I will be happy to help and give suggestions, but I want you to try it on your own. Also," Sirius added, thoughtfully, "I will have the directions copy themselves line by line on your table, so you won't have to go looking at your book."
Harry frowned a bit at this. "But Sirius, Snape always put them on the board."
Sirius felt his own eyebrows raise in alarm. "No wonder people made so many mistakes."
"Right, but, er-if I get used to this new way, won't I not be at a good place when I go back to school?" Harry stumbled.
"Not if you use the same spell," Sirius smiled, and Harry grinned.
"Now, I want to look over the instructions, because they might not be the best..."
With quill in hand, Sirius made a few alterations. "That's better. It's a shame that you'll likely be using such an old book, but..."
After reciting the spell to duplicate onto another surface, Sirius nodded for Harry to begin, then took a seat next to him.
Sirius watched as Harry worked, occasionally muttering something about ingredients or knives or temperatures under his breath. When he came to the parts Sirius had revised, he frowned a bit, but followed the new instructions. The first time, he laughed when the potion changed into the lilac color it should, but by the third time Sirius's instructions matched what should happen, he just chuckled to himself and shook his head. Everything went smoothly, and Sirius had to admit he was impressed. Granted, Harry still followed the instructions line for line, not asking questions about the revisions Sirius had made, but his method was slow, careful, and thorough. Hardly the dunce Snape had made him out to be. If he had only received an E, well, this was likely due to the lack of teaching Snape had done, and the sheer amount of material needed to learn, in addition to eight other subjects. Harry was not a sponge, and while Sirius and James and Lily had been, even Remus had to review his notes and didn't receive full marks.
The potion completed, looking exactly how it should, Harry turned to Sirius, a little tentatively. "I think it's finished."
Sirius nodded, smiled, and helped Harry store the potion so it wouldn't go bad before giving him a congratulatory hug.
"We covered a lot for today, and you did great work. Would you like to go over the changes I made now, or a bit later?" he asked.
"I'd like to go over it now," said Harry, rather eagerly.
Then, Sirius heard his stomach growl, and raised his eyebrows.
"Perhaps, during some lunch?" he suggested, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in close.
"Yeah, all right," Harry answered, curling into Sirius.
Over sandwiches and another large slice of cake apiece for dessert, Sirius went over the reasoning for the changes.
"For the sopophorous bean, the juice tends to gather together if you crush it," Sirius began, notes in hand. "It distributes itself evenly, but sticks to the linings. Rather like a line of defense, even though it's not alive. If you crush it first, the juice gets loose, and then, you can use all of it. I learned that trick from your mum, or rather, from watching her one day. It's quite useful, and prevents you from having to go through many to create decent potions."
"Why doesn't the book say this, though?" Harry wondered.
"Because most commonly used potions only require a few drops, and if you're creating something that requires more, it's assumed you'll use several," Sirius replied. "But it's one of the, shall we say, tricks of the trade that makes it easier."
"What about the counter clockwise stirs?" Harry wanted to know, peering at the next instruction.
"Temperature regulation," Sirius explained. "The stirs aren't just to even out the ingredients, pup. That's the main reason, of course, but when you work with certain ingredients-I'll get you a list tomorrow-the counter clockwise stir sort of evens out the temperature of the cauldron, and can even speed up the potion. Not that this is the aim always, but generally, you want the potion to have the same level of heat or coolness throughout."
There were a couple of other additions Sirius could have made to allow the Draught to be produced more quickly, but he thought this was enough for one day. Especially since, looking at his watch, they had spent over four hours on Potions, instead of just one.
"That's enough work for today," Sirius chuckled. "Would you like to try out your Firebolt this afternoon?"
"How?" asked Harry, puzzled. "Don't the charms only work inside?"
Sirius chuckled. "There's a Quidditch pitch on the fourth floor. Come on, I will show you."
So, after Sirius cleaned up (promising Harry he would show him after they ate dinner), they headed towards to hitherto unbeknownst area of the house, Harry's broom in hand. Sirius, having never seen Harry fly the newest racing broom, was looking forward to watching him as much as Harry was to flying again.
A/N: I always thought that Harry's abusive and neglectful upbringing by the Dursleys would influence his response towards physical affection. While he generally reacts well to Mrs. Weasley, it struck me as strange that he and Sirius never really hugged. While you do see Sirius put an arm on Harry's shoulder, the closest the two get is Sirius's brief, one armed hug at the end of Harry's Christmas holidays. It's my personal head canon, which I am injecting into this story, that it isn't so much that Harry doesn't like hugs but that he's rather stunted in this way, thanks to the Dursleys. And because he likely projects this, Sirius is less likely to reach out physically than a mother of seven kids. So, because this fanfic is a type of "fix it" and Harry is deprived of what most kids take for granted, I plan on developing this further.
Next chapter will involve more angst.
