Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Hello everyone. I don't know what to say to apologize to you all for not updating in such a long, long time. I've had an extremely dry spell when it comes to writing fanfic, but I am finally out of it now. I've also thought of some things to do to help me so I don't get stuck in the middle of a story and can't find my way out. I'm starting to take notes so I know where I want all my stories to go. It's hard maintaining ideas in your mind and when they slip away, it's horrible.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Just to recap, Aurors have arrived at Hogwarts thinking Harry responsible for the cold-blooded murder of Cedric Diggory. Sirius escaped with Harry to Grimmauld Place by Portkey before the Aurors could find him.

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Sirius couldn't sleep. He sat listlessly in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, drinking a cup of tea. Not for the first time that evening, he wished he had a bottle of firewhiskey sitting in front of him, but he knew there was a very good reason not to indulge. And, with the kind of mood he was in, he didn't trust himself not to go too far if he started. During the days of the First War when things were particularly bad, drinking replaced the pain of the losses with pure, simple numbness. It was a habit that Remus had not been happy about, and always tried to get him to break.

But if there was any time not to slip back into his old ways, it was now. Resisting the temptation was much easier said than done; he literally had to force himself not to ask Kreacher to fetch him one. It would help to slow his mind, which just would not rest with all the thoughts and fears and worries swirling around.

Everyone who came into contact with Sirius Black knew that "responsible" was not usually a word associated with him. Recklessness was as much a part of his personality as breathing air in and out was to every human being. The instant anyone met Sirius, he was instantly readable. James used to joke that that was why he had never thought about settling down; every time he asked a girl out, it never lasted for long. "Almost every time I see a girl crying from heartbreak, it's over you, mate. What on Merlin's green Earth do you say to them?" he had said, while Remus gave a disapproving frown that said all too plainly that Sirius shouldn't be leading those girls on and then letting them down.

And, in truth, Sirius really hadn't meant to hurt those girls. At the time, it had stroked his ego that so many girls wanted to date him; according to many, he had been the most handsome, charismatic boy in the school. But the real truth of the matter was, he didn't feel like he could be committed to one girl and stay with her for the rest of his life. When James had found that kind of love with Lily, Sirius couldn't help but be envious. James had a level of commitment in him that he simply didn't possess. He'd find a pretty girl, go out on a few dates, and then get bored with her. He spent years playing the field, and he had to admit that he loved the excitement of meeting someone new, because each girl had a unique personality and he never quite knew what to expect. He couldn't help the swell of pride that blossomed within him whenever a girl looked at him like he was the best thing Merlin had put on the planet. Conversely, though, when he'd broken his fair share of hearts, he'd been slapped, hexed, called an unfeeling bastard, and been told he would never be spoken to again. His reputation with women was definitely a mixed bag.

But now, those youthful days were over; they had all come crashing down. Twelve years in Azkaban, influenced by the cruel Dementors and his own torturous thoughts and memories, had changed him drastically. Deep down, when James and Lily had made him godfather, he never in a million years thought that the duty of taking care of another living, breathing being would fall directly and solely onto him, no matter how prepared he'd tried to be for such a situation. Even when the Potters were the main targets of Voldemort and Sirius would spend endless hours worrying about their welfare, a large part of him didn't think they'd actually die, let alone the fact that he would inadvertently cause it to happen.

But now, as he sat in the kitchen, being responsible sat like a heavy weight upon his shoulders, and being back in this house made his thoughts spiral in all directions. He knew the instant he brought Harry here, it would be a struggle to fight back the negative feelings he had towards this place. But this was about Harry, not about him, and he reminded himself that this was once again the safest place for them to be.

He knew that eventually, Harry would want to be in touch with his friends again. But Sirius would stay here with him until that moment arrived. He wouldn't push the boy to do anything too soon; Harry needed a chance to process everything that had happened.

As minutes passed, Sirius became lost in his thoughts of how to help Harry heal. He would attempt to make this house more habitable, and try with all his might to squash the bad memories as they came upon him. He thought of his mantra in Azkaban: "I'm innocent, I'm innocent, I'm innocent ..." and knew he would have to create a new one for here. "It's about Harry, not you. It's about Harry, not you ..." He knew he wasn't godfather material, not really. But damn it all, Lily and James trusted him, and he was going to honor their trust rather than wallow in his own melancholia and self-pity. He had also told Harry that it wasn't the house that was the real home, that as long as the boy was around Sirius could heal, too, and he would strive to make that a reality.

It bothered him when he pondered on Harry's reaction to how he had treated Kreacher. Now that the haze of anger and hate had passed, he could see how it had scared Harry. He once again thought of James, and how he had joked that he pitied everyone who ended up on Sirius's bad side, because he sure as hell had a temper. He was always grinning when he said it, but there was something in his best friend's eyes that told Sirius he wasn't entirely joking. Sirius had done his best to try and escape his name, but the Black temper was legendary, and each member of the family possessed a vicious streak that Sirius didn't want to have, but didn't know how to get rid of. After all, it was those things that Peter had been able to manipulate to his benefit. And if Sirius was now going to redeem himself and give Harry a loving home, he was not going to spend his time taking out his temper on verminous house-elves. He realized that Kreacher didn't warrant so much time and attention wasted on him. He'd ask the stupid elf for favors when he needed them, but that was it. He knew ignoring Kreacher would be so much harder than he thought, but this was just another thing he had to do to be the man able to take care of a traumatized, exhausted Harry. He and the boy were in it for the long haul, two broken people who had the world going against them, howling for their blood. And by looking into Harry's vulnerable green eyes, so unsure and wary and confused and tired, he knew Harry needed to cling to him as much as he needed to cling to Harry. They were each other's respite from the storm that was doing its best to submerge them. But there was no way Sirius was going to let them drown.

Once Sirius had finished his tea and rinsed out his mug, he sighed and made his way back upstairs. There was something incredibly uncomfortable about being back in his childhood room; he felt as though he was sixteen again, waiting for his mother to barge in through his door screaming about his blood traitor friends and how dare he keep shaming the family and about how she wished he could be like her sweet little angel Regulus. The instant he thought the name, Sirius pushed it away viciously; he did not want to think about his little brother who he'd been so close to, the one who turned against him and went down an entirely different path only to get cold feet and get himself killed. Serves him right, the coward, Sirius thought with a derisive snort, ignoring the memories of their good times together that kept wanting to float to the surface.

But on the way to his room, Sirius heard a whimpering noise coming from the room where Harry was sleeping. Sirius was instantly on alert; he had been prepared for Harry to have nightmares again. When the two had gone to bed earlier, Sirius had asked Harry if he wanted him to stay in the room with him, even if he turned into a dog. But Harry convinced him he could sleep on his own, insisting that he'd have to do it sooner or later and that he would be fine. Sirius was loath to agree, but he admired the stubborn streak in his godson. As vulnerable as he still was, a tiny piece of the fight and strength Sirius had seen in him was returning, if only minutely. But Sirius vowed that he would continuously check on Harry throughout the night, and would be readily available if needed. And it looked like he was needed now, he thought as the whimpers continued.

Softly, Sirius opened Harry's door and walked into the room. It was bathed in moonlight; it was truly a beautiful evening, as it had cruelly been the night before, the irony of all ironies when such horrific events had just transpired. Harry was writhing in his bed, tangled within the sheets, moaning, "No, no, no, no. Don't hurt him, please don't hurt him. He didn't do anything."

With a painful pang, Sirius knew Harry was speaking about Cedric. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the boy muttered over and over again, sweat beading on his brow as his facial expression displayed the raw pain and grief of last night. "I'm sorry."

Sirius touched Harry's shoulder with a heavy heart. He knew that even with the talk they had had today about who was at fault for the night's events, and even with the reassurance of the Diggorys, it would take a lot of time for Harry to believe it. After all, there were still plenty of times when he blamed himself for what had happened to James and Lily, even though he'd had the best of intentions. "Harry," he said softly, giving Harry's shoulders a gentle shake. "Come on, kiddo, wake up. It's just an awful dream. Wake up."

Abruptly, Harry's eyes shot open, and they looked wild and frightened as they darted around the room, as though he was still with Voldemort and looking for an escape. After a few seconds, he was able to focus and remember where he was, and who he was with. "Sirius?" he said, his voice small and soft. He let out a shaky breath and continued, "Sirius, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up." He sounded scared then, and a burning anger roared to life inside Sirius which was directed at the unloving Dursleys. From the way Harry was reacting, his relatives were furious when he woke them up with nightmares. Try living this boy's life and you'd be screaming bloody murder every night, you bloody bastards, Sirius thought viciously. You call us freaks? No, you're the freaks around here.

Sirius took a deep breath himself, reigned in the anger and said, "You didn't wake me up, Harry. I couldn't sleep, and was in the kitchen drinking some tea. But," he said, lifting Harry's chin and forcing the boy's emerald eyes to meet his gray ones, "even if you had woken me up, it wouldn't matter. Guardians are not supposed to get angry when the children in their care have nightmares. And with what you've been through, kiddo, I'm surprised you're not screaming your lungs out."

Harry looked ashamed and embarrassed, causing Sirius to pull him closer to his body. He watched as Harry tried to calm himself down. After a few seconds he said, "Would you like to talk about it, Harry?" He knew what his godson's answer would probably be, and he would not push him. Eventually, they would need to talk about it, but everything was so flayed and raw at the moment.

"No," Harry muttered lowly, releasing his tight hold on Sirius a little, but still letting himself be held gently. Sirius felt hope burgeon in his stomach; it seemed as though Harry was trusting him a little more each minute. His answer to talking about the nightmares was predictable, but Sirius's determination did not waver that they would eventually get there.

"Okay," Sirius said reassuringly, squeezing Harry's hand. "I'm here for you, whenever you need me."

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Both godfather and godson were lost in their own thoughts, and Sirius saw the deep frown marring Harry's face and the haunted look in those emerald eyes and decided the boy needed a distraction. Sleep was eluding him tonight, what with being back in this house and his agonizing over Harry, and it was plain to see that the last thing Harry wished to do was attempt to go back to sleep. "Want to go to the kitchen for a while?" he asked the boy. "I can make you some tea and we can have a little midnight snack, if you want. Or," he said, checking the time, "a three-o'clock-in-the-morning snack."

"I'm not hungry," Harry murmured, but Sirius couldn't help but glimpse the relieved look on the young face. "And I don't want to keep you up. You should be asleep."

"I can't sleep either, honestly," Sirius admitted. "I need a distraction, and it looks as though you do, too."

Harry couldn't help the smile that came to his face, although there was a great amount of concern there, too. "Okay," he said softly. "I want to make sure you're okay, too."

And with that, they both quietly got up and headed out of the room, down the stairs, and to the kitchen. All the while, Sirius was thinking of many topics and questions to ask Harry that were not sensitive in nature, that he didn't think Harry would have a problem opening up about. After all, life had granted him a reprieve, some time to spend with his godson.

And what better time to get to know the boy properly?

As he made a cup of tea for Harry and prepared another one for himself, there was so much he wanted to find out. It was time to really get to know this boy apart from all the trials and traumas he had faced.

It was time to learn all about Harry Potter.