Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Thank you so, so much for the wonderful reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying the Sirius and Harry scenes.

And speaking of that, here comes another one.

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"You really do have a beautiful owl, Harry."

Harry and Sirius sat on the floor in the drawing room, with Hedwig's cage next to Harry and his trunk lying before them. Kreacher had been successful in retrieving Harry's things, and Sirius had been mesmerized by Hedwig's beauty. The boy felt a deep surge of affection for his godfather; he knew the man was trying his best to take his mind off upsetting topics such as the panic attack he'd suffered that morning. A deep well of shame opened in the pit of Harry's stomach when he recalled how he'd felt - in all the years he'd lived, he'd never experienced anything like it before.

But Sirius ... he'd been so amazing about it all. His soft, soothing words had eventually penetrated through the fog in Harry's mind; he'd felt as though he was drowning before that voice had coaxed him to rise to the surface. He'd told him not to be ashamed of it, that it was perfectly warranted. Even though all remnants of it were gone now, Harry still couldn't help but be disgusted with himself. Why couldn't he pull himself together? What was wrong with him? Sirius had been to hell and back, and he was now stuck in a house he hated all because of Harry. Yet he was withstanding it, doing for Harry what no adult had ever done, while Harry fell to pieces. He truly didn't deserve to be held in such high regard by this man.

And now, Sirius had a smile on his face as he admired Hedwig's soft feathers. Harry had expected his owl to be furious with him; she certainly had an obstinate streak, and let Harry know it when she didn't think she was being treated well. And through all the chaos of the last few days, Harry had completely neglected her, his beloved pet, the first birthday present he had ever received. He would always feel gratitude towards Hagrid for that.

But, surprisingly, Hedwig didn't seem angry at all. Instead, it was as though she sensed her wizard's mood, because as soon as she saw him, she hooted gently. When Harry began to pet her, she flew up to his ear and nipped it, but it was done with affection. Harry crooned apologies to her, and she let out a few more gentle hoots.

"Owls are very smart creatures," Sirius said, putting out his hand and letting Hedwig sniff it. She then rubbed her beak against it, as though displaying a sign of trust.

"Yes, she is beautiful. Thank you," Harry said sincerely. "And I think she likes you, too."

"I'll never forget when I saw her the first time," said Sirius. "Buckbeak and I were journeying south when she arrived with your first letter." He smiled warmly at Harry. "When did you get her?"

"Right before my first year," Harry replied, his mind wandering back to what felt like a lifetime ago, when the wizarding world had been fresh and promising and didn't contain the sheer horrors he'd experienced now. "Hagrid got her for me for my eleventh birthday. He was the one who brought me to Diagon Alley for the first time, as you know."

"That must have been a pretty neat experience," Sirius said.

"It was," Harry agreed. During the explanations of his school years yesterday, he hadn't told Sirius much about the lead-up to Hagrid taking him to get his supplies. He knew that if he explained the details of the hut on the rock to his godfather, the questions were bound to get uncomfortable. Harry didn't want to open up about his childhood. He trusted Sirius, but he didn't want anyone to know how weak and pathetic he had been. A little voice nagged at him, trying to tell him that Sirius would understand, that he wouldn't judge him; after all, his childhood hadn't seemed to be filled with peace and joy, had it? This house seemed to hold nothing but rotten memories for his godfather. Harry hadn't taken time to study anything else in the house yet, but he thought he'd seen house-elf heads mounted on the wall. He was afraid to ask Sirius whether that was real, or whether he'd gone insane from the events of two nights ago and therefore become delusional. If he saw them again, he knew he'd have to ask. But he'd put it off for as long as he could.

And as far as Harry's childhood went ... Sirius's anger had leaped to life at the details Harry had given about his school years alone. No adult had ever been so furious regarding his well-being before. It was a bit perplexing to him, but gratifying at the same time. He'd always been left to fend for himself, and he'd given up on the idea of having any parental figure. The closest he had come to regarding anyone as a parent was when he'd stayed with the Weasleys in the summers before his second and fourth years. He loved Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and knew they cared for him as well. But with them having so many children, they had so much they needed to do, and they had to split their time equally among each child, which was extremely difficult.

But right now, Harry and Sirius were by themselves, tucked away in a sheltered corner of the world. Harry knew he was being incredibly selfish, but he liked having Sirius all to himself. Was this a result of trauma, or was he just being a baby? What was his problem? It had never been like him to need someone so badly. He felt lost, stranded in a world which was spinning out of control, and Sirius was like an anchor in the rough, choppy ocean he was drowning in. Sirius was there for him in a way no one else had ever been before.

"What made you decide to name her Hedwig?" Sirius asked, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"I read it in one of my old books in primary school, and thought the name fit her," he explained. Opening his trunk, he extracted a box of owl treats. Putting one in his hand, he allowed Hedwig to eat it out of his palm. She hooted again, as though in thanks, which made both Harry and Sirius chuckle.

"Did you ever own an owl?" Harry asked, curious. The moment he asked, he could have hit himself - would Sirius's parents really have let him have a pet?

Seeing the look on his godson's face, Sirius immediately reassured him. "You can ask, kiddo," he said softly, ruffling the boy's hair. "You don't have to avoid asking me questions which might bring up bad memories. You deserve to know anything you want to."

Guilt flooded Harry at these words; shouldn't that mean that he should find the courage to talk about his childhood too? Sirius was willing to answer any question he had; shouldn't it go both ways?

"No, Harry," Sirius said, and it still amazed him that Sirius always seemed to sense where Harry's mind was going. "That doesn't mean you have to do exactly what I do. At some point, I would like for you to open up to me, because I can tell there are things you aren't telling me. But it doesn't mean you have to do it now."

Harry felt overwhelmed. "Well, the same should go for you," he said stubbornly, and Sirius smiled softly.

"Thanks, Harry," the man said, moving over and slinging an arm around the boy. "But, in answer to the question you asked, as much as they didn't want to, they let me buy an owl because they insisted that I write them nonstop. Believe me, I hated it as much as they did."

Harry looked at Sirius sympathetically, and the man patted his shoulder. "It's all right," he said gently. "I met some amazing friends that helped me greatly."

"Could you please tell me more about my dad?" Harry asked hesitantly. He hoped this wouldn't cause Sirius pain. He could remember with crystal clarity the grief and rage that had been so raw on Sirius's face the night they had first met. Just saying Lily and James's names had seemed to cause him agony.

Sirius's expression became wistful, and there was definitely sadness there, but he nodded. "Of course, pup," he said quietly. "What would you like to know?"

"Was he good in school?" Harry asked. "I mean, was he a good student? What subjects did he like, and were there any subjects he didn't?"

"Well," said Sirius, "his favorite subject was Transfiguration. He was really good at it, too. He was amazing at Quidditch, too - he played as a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. He started in his second year, and played right up until he graduated."

"Wow," said Harry, awed. He loved that he and his father had Quidditch in common. A pang of longing went through him, and his father's image filtered through his mind, his ghostly voice telling him to hold on, to stay strong, that he, Lily, Bertha Jorkins, the old Muggle man, and Cedric would help him escape from the graveyard. Fighting back the ache in his heart, he focused again on Sirius. He couldn't fall to pieces whenever his parents were mentioned; he needed to learn more about them as actual people, rather than pictures and echoes coming out of a madman's wand. They might be gone now, but they had lived and loved - and they deserved to be thought of and remembered as real people, with likes, dislikes, weaknesses, and strengths.

Sirius watched Harry closely, putting his arm back around him again. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked, sensing the turmoil inside him. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, it's okay," Harry said honestly. "I like hearing about who he was."

"If you're sure," said Sirius quietly, patting Harry's shoulder. "Just let me know if it gets too much."

"I will," Harry promised.

"Good," said Sirius, his gray eyes swimming with affection as he became immersed in his memories. "As for classes he didn't like," he continued on, "he never could stay awake during History of Magic."

"Well, can anyone?" Harry snorted, feeling an amused chuckle bubble within him. "I fall asleep in that class all the time. Did Binns go on and on about goblin rebellions then too?"

"Yep," grinned Sirius. "I swear, Lily was the only one who even tried to stay alert in that class. For the rest of us, it was naptime."

Harry laughed. "Us too," he admitted. "Hermione's the only one who remembers anything about it in our class. She's always nagging at me and Ron to stay awake, but Binns is just so boring."

"That he is," Sirius agreed wholeheartedly.

They lapsed into silence for a while, and Harry petted Hedwig, who was loving all the attention being heaped on her. After a few minutes, Harry asked, "Er ... when did my mum and dad get together?"

"Ah, that's a story," Sirius said, his face transforming into another grin. "Your father had eyes only for your mother for years," he said fondly. "Old Prongsie boy would never shut up about her. For the longest time, she didn't want anything to do with him. Broke your poor dad's heart, she did."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "Why didn't she like him?"

"Well, let's just say ..." Sirius stopped for a moment, trying to put his thoughts together. "The nicest way to put it," he finally said, "was that your dad and I were complete and utter idiots when we were younger. Looking back, I'm ashamed of how we acted. We were really good at a lot of things, and flaunted it in front of the other students." It was true that Sirius did look ashamed when telling Harry this. Harry could understand how this could turn a person away, although he didn't want to say it.

"It's okay, Harry," Sirius said quietly. "I was an arrogant little berk, and I admit your father was, too. I know this is no real defense for our actions, but back in those days we thought we had the world at our feet. We were the invincible Marauders, who could conquer anything. When reality caught up with us, we weren't ready for it," he admitted sadly.

"It's okay, Sirius," Harry said immediately when he saw the tortured expression on his godfather's face. "Whatever you did is in the past, and you're trying to become better now."

Sirius's face filled with emotion, and he pulled Harry to him in another of his warm, comforting hugs. "Thank you, Harry," he said hoarsely. "You have no idea what that means to me."

After a few more moments, he pulled away, composing himself. "What was your question again?" he asked. Before Harry could answer, though, he had remembered. "Oh, Lily and James dating. They got together around Christmastime of their seventh year, once old Jamie boy had deflated his head a bit and your mum would give him the time of day. She promised him one date - I still remember him telling me about it. "One date, James," she had said. "Just one, and then you'll stop bothering me about it."

"But then, that one date changed everything. Your mum got to know the real James Potter underneath that cocky exterior he'd worn for so long, and the rest, they say, is history. They married the same summer they graduated from Hogwarts."

"Wow, that was fast!" exclaimed Harry. "They really weren't dating that long."

"That's true," said Sirius. "Times were very hard then, with the war heating up and everything. Both of them planned to fight, and they knew they were putting their lives on the line. A lot of people married young at that time, and your parents wanted some happiness during all the horror that was happening."

"That makes sense," said Harry softly, and it did.

The two of them sat in contemplation again, one lost in memory, the other lost in the what could have beens. There was no sound in the room except for the ticking of a large clock on the wall.

Sirius then looked at Harry again, and there was a question in his gray eyes. But Harry could tell he was extremely reluctant to ask. He had been so forthcoming and honest with answering Harry's questions, and so he decided to return the favor. "What would you like to know, Sirius?" he asked.

Sirius opened his mouth, and asked a question that had been probing at his mind for a long time. By the way he was staring at him with that look on his face, Harry realized he dreaded knowing the answer, but it was one of those things he needed to discover. "How did you find out about ... about me?" Sirius asked slowly. "About what everyone thought I did?"

And Harry knew then that they were about to have another important conversation.