It was the day before Harry's birthday.

Tonks tapped the coffee table's leg with the tip of her big, chunky black boots, which were laced up the front to the knees like combat boots. She had apparated onto their doorstep five minutes earlier, nearly slipping on the stone stairs leading up to it. Sirius had sent her to ask Regulus to look up invisible barriers frequently used by Dark Wizards. Now, she was leaning against the arm of the sofa in the drawing room. The warm scent of sunlight still clang to the black slip dress she was wearing over a purple T-shirt as she stared at the closed door of Orion's study behind which Regulus had disappeared.

Harry stood next to her, mirroring her pose. Warmed by a patch of golden sunlight, the bare wooden floor was pleasant beneath his bare feet. "I think it's crazy that they won't let you in their father's study," he said.

"Oh, I've been in there before," Tonks responded, picking at her chapped lips.

She had indeed been in there once - and she had been sent out not even a minute later after accidentally unleashing the boggart that they kept locked in an old wooden chest. Ever since then, she had always been politely asked to wait outside.

"What's Reg looking for?" Harry asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Just something," she said distractedly, forcing her eyes off the door to Orion's study and allowing them to drift over to the inflatable pool, which stood in the middle of the room. Harry hadn't used it in days. Its sidewalls were drooping slightly; they were losing air. As thin as the gap between the curtains, a ray of sunlight was sparkling on the water. For a second, there was an expression of longing on Tonks' face, which looked nearly as exhausted and equally as sunburned as Sirius's when Harry had last seen him. Harry had the impression as though she wished she could trade places with him for a day, close her eyes and sink into that cool water instead of having to return to work as soon as Regulus had found the spell Sirius wanted.

It's not actually that cool, Harry thought, both the water in that pool and not being allowed to leave the house.

Harry remembered the time when she had watched him for Reg and Sirius. That had been before she had begun with the Auror training. It had been fun spending an evening with Tonks, even though - or maybe also because - something always went up in flames. Now she was too busy. And Harry was too old - being nearly thirteen, he did not need a babysitter anymore.

"Sirius thought he saw some kind of ward or whatever," Tonks said eventually, perhaps compelled to elaborate by the silence that had unfolded between them, "might've just been the heat messing with his head, but he thinks it's a barrier. It was showering for a brief minute and he thought the rain fell at an odd angle." She shrugged, holding a strand of her bright pink hair between forefinger and middle finger, picking split ends. "That's what Regulus is looking up; maybe there's a way to find out what it is."

"A barrier?" Harry asked, "like an invisible wall?"

"Yeah." She let go of the strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, glancing at Harry. "It's crazy but we haven't seen anyone leave that house in days and there's also no activity from the floo. So Sirius thinks there might be a barrier somewhere. It would kinda suck if it turns out that he's right. All the days we spent observing would have been pointless."

"Whose house are you observing?"

Tonks bit her lip, eyes shifting back to the closed door of the study. "Not sure I'm allowed to tell you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "The good old rat problem, huh?"

"Oh," she said, her eyebrows quirking up, "he told you about that?"

The boy shrugged, kept his tone casual as to not give away his surprise at her response. "Yeah. Why wouldn't he?"

"I just thought… because it's all quite personal and he's not someone who easily talks about stuff like that…"

Harry bit his tongue, keeping the question of what's so personal about it trapped in the back of his mouth. It was as hard to keep in as it is to suppress a cough.

"Yeah," he said instead. His mind was racing - how was he going to get more information without appearing too curious? Finally, he decided to make a shot into the dark. "Must be annoying. Rats can get everywhere."

"Oh you bet! Suddenly there are sightings everywhere, people are freaking out now and call the Aurors simply because they spotted a rat in their backyard. There are about 10 million rats in Britain. And most of them seem to have moved to Diagon Alley." She blew up her cheeks. "It's worse than finding a needle in a haystack."

Bingo.

"Yeah, Sirius was talking about that as well," Harry said slowly in the hope that she would keep talking.

"Still, mice would probably be worse, eh? Or spiders. Imagine if he were able to transform into a spider." Tonks snorted. "My mom would go nuts. She'd call the Aurors every single time she found one in the bathtub."

He. Transform. Harry formed these words behind his teeth, held them there, tasted them, trapped like pills under his tongue while they dissolved. "So when is this going to be over?" he asked carefully.

"Hopefully soon," Tonks sighed. "I just hope we catch him soon so he can be brought back to Azkaban where he belongs and we can all go back to normal. I admit that I almost miss doing paperwork."

"Yeah," Harry said. Azkaban. "What's his name again? I forgot." He held his breath.

"Pettigrew. Weird name if you ask -" she said, then stopped herself. She turned her head, looked at Harry with an expression as though she had suddenly picked up on a foul scent in the air.

Harry flashed his sweetest smile. "That's the name, you're right."

A thoughtful expression formed on Tonks' face as she studied Harry closely. Just when she wanted to speak, the door to Orion's study opened and Regulus emerged, carrying a rolled-up parchment containing what Harry assumed were his notes.

"Got it," Regulus said as he closed the door carefully behind himself and locked it. He turned. His hair was gray with dust. "If there's a barrier, this spell will block it."

Sirius had asked Tonks to wait outside and stay on her post while he knocked on the door after blocking the barrier and entered the house when no one answered.

"Magical Law Enforcement," he called into the tomb-like silence of the house, his fingers tightening on his wand. "Ma'am?"

He opened the door to the living room. That same living room, ages ago, with James and Peter… Overwhelmed by the smell, Sirius nearly dropped his wand as he lifted his hand to his face to cover his mouth and nose. The first thing Sirius noticed was that the room was swarmed with bugs. Then, the old brown sofa piled with laundry, leaking stuffing from the armrests.

Then he saw her. Mrs. Pettigrew - or rather, her body - sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, slowly decaying.

At first glance, Mrs. Pettigrew did not display any external injuries. However, that did not have to mean anything as Sirius knew very well that the killing curse left no marks on its victims. And she must have been dead for a while, her skin was gray with brown spots, her sunken-in eyes dry and glazed-over. The Daily Prophet on the windowsill dated July 25, two days after Peter's escape. Sirius stumbled over to the window, desperate for fresh air. To his surprise, he found that it was open. Sirius realized that the window, which he had thought was regularly being opened and closed, had been swinging whenever a draft went through the small house.

Had Peter done this? A shudder ran down Sirius' spine at the thought. An image of Peter flashed up in front of his inner eye, a blush creeping up his cheeks as Mrs. Pettigrew hugged and kissed him at Platform 9 3/4, a group of Slytherins snickering in the background. Peter had always been the last student to get on the train. Even after Peter had managed to wriggle out of his mother's embrace and joined his friends in the train compartment they had claimed, she still stood in front of their window, tears filling her eyes now, her small hand on the windowpane. And Peter, inside, puffing his cheeks out in frustration.

After a few years, he had stopped responding to her letters, which he received daily, altogether. Sirius remembered Peter comparing her to a spider which had caught him in her web and refused to let him go. Then, Sirius had thought that it was an intelligent analogy.

Sirius turned around, a giant lump in his throat as he forced himself to look at the dead woman. A fly had landed on the woman's eye and disappeared under her eyelid.

Blindness. For her, too, it must have been a curse. Sirius wondered if, in the end, she had seen the rat's true face or if she had died with her heart still full of love for him.

This was how it used to be, that was before Harry went to Hogwarts: the sun went down, Sirius came home from work, and the house lit up in his presence. It was not the same with Reg - Reg, who preferred reading quietly by himself, curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea. Reg liked playing board games, he liked to play the piano, he liked to go to the playground, find a bench, and watch Harry play. Reg wasn't chasing Harry through the house on his broom, he wasn't taking him on nightly rides on the motorbike, the lights of London city under them like a sea of stars, the cars like schools of glowing fish. Sure, Reg could be fun but he was not like Sirius, didn't have that movie-star smile, eyes sparkling even after a long day at work. Unlike Ron, Hermione, or any of his friends, Harry had never had a strict bedtime. Before Hogwarts, he and Sirius had played until he got tired, that was it. Sirius would read him a story, sitting cross-legged at the foot of Harry's bed. Sometimes his eyes fell shut for a second and Harry giggled, nudged him with his foot, and Sirius' head snapped and he'd blink, grin, and say, "just wanted to see if you were still paying attention."

That time from just before dinner until Harry fell asleep, it was Sirius' time. It had always been until Harry had gone to Hogwarts. While, during the last summer, Sirius had still spent his evenings with Harry, things were different now, and Harry was not quite sure how to deal with it. That time after sunset, when Sirius wasn't home, it was like there was a hole in the room, airless and Sirius-shaped.

Harry sat on the bottom stair in the basement. The tall grandfather clock in the corner was ticking evenly. The last time Harry had leaned forward to check it, it had been 11:57 pm.

The sound of the clock striking the hour drearily reverberated in the basement. It was midnight, July 31st.

"Happy birthday," Harry whispered to himself. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his hands around his bare feet. His toes were slowly getting cold. Kreacher was snoring to the sound of the dripping faucet in the kitchen nearby, undisturbed by the clock ringing in Harry's thirteenth birthday.

Minutes passed. Minutes of being thirteen. Harry considered going into the kitchen and looking at the cake which Regulus had made for him. Regulus had tried to be sneaky about it but Harry had spotted chocolate crumbs and two strawberry tops that had fallen onto the kitchen floor. Kreacher must have missed them while cleaning the kitchen.

"What makes you think you'll get a cake," Reg had said during dinner, eyes twinkling, and when Harry pointed out the crumbs and strawberry tops, Reg snipped his fingers, causing them to vanish instantly.

"Not fair," Harry laughed.

"Okay," Regulus had said with a wide grin, leaning back in his chair and intertwining his fingers behind his head, "I admit it - I did try to make a cake but it burned. So, unfortunately, there's not gonna be a cake tomorrow."

Despite that, Harry was fairly certain that there was a cake in the kitchen. Well, ninety-eight percent certain.

It was nearly half-past twelve and, finally, the floo roared to life. The green flames were so bright that Harry squinted his eyes and leaned into the shadow provided by the stairs. Sirius appeared, ducking his head as he stepped out of the fireplace and into the moonlight-filled basement. He dragged himself to the kitchen, flicked on the light. Kreacher's soft snores stopped abruptly and were replaced by an irritated huff.

"Don't look at me like that," Sirius said gruffly. "Anything left of dinner?" There was the sound of pots being moved, cupboards opened and closed. A short pause, which was followed by an exasperated sigh. "Ah, whatever. Forget it. I'll get something else."

Kreacher grumbled to himself before the light was switched off. Then Sirius emerged from the kitchen again, hands empty.

Harry thought that, if Reg had witnessed that, he would tell Sirius off for waking Kreacher like that.

Sirius approached the stairs and nearly tripped over Harry, who sat in the shadow of the bottom stair. "Oh fuck," he exclaimed, catching himself on the railing, which gave a loud wooden creaking sound under his weight. "Are you okay, pup? Did I step on you?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. He stretched out his legs.

"Bloody hell," Sirius said, forcing a smile, "what are you doing down here, sitting in the dark? Is everything alright?"

"What do you think?" Harry responded. That came out harsher than intended, but Harry decided that Sirius deserved it. "I was waiting for you, of course,"

"Waiting for me," Sirius echoed in a soft voice. He blinked. "Why would you… It's past midnight, Harry. You should be asleep. It could've taken two, three more hours for me to come home."

Harry shrugged, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Yeah, so what. It's not like I see you any other time of the day."

Sirius sighed and sat next to Harry on the stairs. His long Auror robe faintly smelled of cigarette smoke. "This isn't how I envisioned our summer either," he said quietly.

"Work's more important, I get it."

In the darkness, Harry could just make out the whites of his eyes but he knew that Sirius had tensed ever-so-slightly at the sharpness in his voice. Good.

"No, Harry. That's not how it is," Sirius said. He sounded tired, suddenly, like an old man; his voice a ragged, leathery whisper.

Harry huffed.

"How is it then?"

Sirius was quiet for a few seconds, allowing silence to stretch out between them. The air bristled with tenseness, causing Harry to lick his lips. They tasted like the ash from the fireplace. It had been whirled up through Sirius' arrival and was still swirling in the thin shafts of moonlight that fell through the basement window.

The seconds ticked away and, suddenly, the silence had stretched too long. Before Sirius even opened his mouth, Harry knew that his response would be evasive, aimed at taking the silence away rather than giving Harry the answer he wanted.

"You and Reg, you're what's most important to me. You have to trust me on that, little one." Sirius' eyes were on Harry.

Harry's jaw clenched at the nickname. "More important than Pettigrew?"

From the way how Sirius recoiled at the mention of that name, Harry knew that he had hit his target despite having made a shot in the dark.

"Where did you hear that name?" Sirius hissed.

Harry was staring straight ahead, not sparing Sirius a single look. A moment later, Sirius took hold of his chin and forced his head up. "Harry James, I swear, if you've been eavesdropping," Sirius' jaw muscles worked furiously as he fought to control his temper, "you tell me now. Now."

"I haven't!"

"Are you sure of that? Because if you're lying to me, Harry, then Merlin help me -"

"I'm not!" Harry wrenched his chin out of Sirius' grip. "I didn't eavesdrop!"

"Then who gave you that name?!" Sirius was resting his elbows on top of his knees, leaning close. His deep, commanding voice darkened the basement.

Harry turned his face away. "I'm not a rat."

"Reg? Was it Reg?"

"No."

"Who then?"

Harry shrugged, felt his bottom lip jutting out slightly. Sirius was being ridiculous, losing it only because of a name.

"Fine, if you want it to be like that," Sirius said, rising to his feet. "If I find out that you're lying, Harry -" His voice was sending chills down Harry's spine. He did not finish his threat as he turned abruptly and walked up the stairs, the heavy thud of his boots like Harry's heartbeat, dangerously fast.

Harry followed his godfather wordlessly. He cringed when he realized that Sirius was heading up to the third landing. Then, Sirius pounded against the door to Regulus' room, entered without waiting for an answer. Regulus awoke with a start.

"What the hell -"

"Pettigrew?" Sirius walked up next to Regulus' bed. His booming voice was filling the room.

Regulus rubbed his eyes and glanced at the open book that lay next to him, still slightly disoriented. "Huh?" He spotted Harry, who was standing in the rectangle of light that spilled through the open door onto the dark corridor floor. He looked back to Sirius, sat up, his bedsheets rustling. "Did you just say -"

"Yes," Sirius growled. "He knows. How?"

Regulus frowned. "Maybe because you just yelled the name when he was standing right behind you."

Sirius turned around, not at all surprised to see that Harry had followed him upstairs. "Go to bed," he said curtly.

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, refusing to move. "It wasn't Reg, I told you," he insisted. "Don't yell at him."

"Who was it then?" Sirius spoke through his teeth, his words slicing through the room. "Was it Ron? Hermione? Because if it wasn't them -"

"Tonks," Harry said. He hated himself for giving her name, it was not really her fault after all. But he knew that Sirius wouldn't let it go until he knew where Harry had heard that name. Pettigrew, for some reason speaking that name had an even more upsetting effect on Sirius than saying Voldemort's name had on Reg.

"Tonks?!"

Harry nodded. "She told me when she was here."

"Fuck," Sirius said.

"All right, I've had enough," Regulus said, getting up from his bed. He went to stand next to the door, gestured toward the corridor. "Leave. I'm not in the mood for this. Discuss this all you want, but not in my room."

Sirius licked his lips. He seemed uncomfortable, now that he realized that he had woken Regulus up and yelled at him for nothing. "Reg, look -"

"Good night." Regulus jutted his chin out, gave Sirius a stony stare.

Sirius lowered his head as he trudged out of the room. "Sorry, Reggie. Really."

"Whatever."

The door closed with a thunk, shrouding the corridor in darkness.

For a few seconds, they both stood a few feet apart, Harry and Sirius, wrapped in tense silence as they stared at each other, silhouetted in the sparse moonlight which was falling in at a low angle through a window on the other end of the corridor.

Finally, Sirius took a deep breath, his chest lifting high. "I decided not to share this information with you for a reason, Harry. That name, I did not want you to know it. You were aware of that."

Harry was quiet. He knew that saying that he didn't care wouldn't make it better.

"Any more snooping around and you won't like what happens next. And I mean it. This is your last warning."

Harry felt the heat of sudden anger in his cheeks. "You're not being fair."

Sirius' mustache was twitching as if he could regain control of his speech by realigning his mouth. "It's not my job to be fair. It's my job to keep you safe."

Such nonsense. "I'm not even doing anything, I just want to know what's going on! I'm thirteen!" Harry protested. He said it for the first time and he felt like an adult saying this. Thirteen. It sounded powerful, that number. He was a teenager. Not a child anymore, a teenager.

"You're twe-" Sirius corrected him instantly but then stopped himself. His face changed as the realization of what day it was hit him and he swallowed visibly. "It's already - ?" Sirius opened his arms, walked up to Harry, drew him into a tight embrace, ignored Harry stiffening. "Happy Birthday, pup."

Harry was hit with the scent of wood, leather, and sweat as his face was pushed into Sirius' shoulder. He turned his face to the side, glanced up at Sirius, the man's beard looking even more coarse like this, each wiry hair silhouetted in the moonlight. "You nearly forgot."

"I didn't, you just caught me off guard," Sirius said in a low voice. He squeezed Harry tightly, then passed his fingers through Harry's hair, brushed it out of the boy's face. "Thirteen, wow. My Harry, so grown now. Soon you'll be as tall as Reg."

Harry couldn't help the smile that curled his lips upward. Regulus was only two inches shorter than Sirius but Sirius liked to pretend that it was ten inches instead.

Sirius leaned back, smiled down at Harry. "So how does it feel, being thirteen? Is it different?"

Harry shrugged. The truth was, he had felt thirteen for a while now, even when he had still been twelve. "Not really," he said.

"I remember turning thirteen," Sirius said, his voice warm, "must've been a Friday because your dad and I were in detention with Filch. We were in detention every Friday." He chuckled. "So, instead of scrubbing the floors in the Great Hall like we were supposed to, we shot the fireworks which your dad had found in Filch's office."

Usually, these small anecdotes about his dad made Harry feel all warm inside. Not this time. He pulled away from Sirius. "At least you could spend time with your friends on your birthday. I'm stuck here."

Sirius' smile wavered. "I'm taking a day off tomorrow. We can do whatever you want, I'm all yours."

"For one day. Great."

Sirius' brows twitched slightly; he definitely got the message. But then, he forced a smile back onto his face. "Your birthday lasts two days? You should have told me, I had no idea. All those years, we've celebrated it wrong -"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know how I meant it. You're never here. You weren't even on time for my birthday tonight"

Sirius' shoulders slumped. "I didn't know that you were waiting for me, pup. If I had known, I would have been on time."

"So you could have been home earlier!"

Sirius sighed, ran a hand over his face. "Listen, Harry. I have made my point several times over the last days and I'm tired of repeating myself. And if you think I'll have this discussion again in the middle of the night, then you're mistaken. You can accept that and make the best of it or continue with that attitude and see how far it gets you. Your choice."

The teacup's delicate handle looked incredibly fragile in Sirius' hand, its white porcelain contrasting with his tan skin. When he noticed Regulus' eyes on him, he grinned, stuck out his pinky, and pursed his lips like a noble lady before taking another sip.

"Excellent blend," he purred.

Regulus smirked to himself. He and Harry were drinking tea. Sirius, on the other hand, had insisted that he wanted to have whiskey rather than tea, and after Regulus' protests, he had offered to drink it out of a teacup.

"To save appearances?" Regulus had asked, amused.

"No, to sanitize the teacups. Someone has to do it once every forty years."

Harry was sitting in between Regulus and Sirius. He had been relatively silent today, although it was his birthday. Regulus chewed on the inside of his cheek as he regarded Harry's presents, which sat on top of the coffee table. Harry had barely acknowledged them earlier and they hadn't missed the disappointment in his polite but monotone words of gratitude. Regulus had expected Harry to at least skim through the illustrated edition of Quidditch Through the Ages or take a sweet from the miniature flying carpet which Sirius had ordered from Iran and which had arrived carrying a collection of Iranian sweets. Sirius had been hurt when his present hadn't even gotten him a smile from Harry, Regulus could tell.

It had been an odd day. Harry had been picking at his food during lunch as well, had barely finished it although Kreacher had cooked his favorite meal. It was a bright, sunny day outside, but it seemed as though Harry was walking around being following by his personal rain cloud.

"It's because he's not allowed outside," Regulus had said to Sirius when Harry had left the room for a minute. "It's his birthday, Sirius. It's supposed to be special but instead, he just feels caged."

Watching Harry, Regulus noticed that the boy had separated the strawberries from the chocolate cake and placed them on the edge of his plate. "You don't like your strawberries, pup?"

"No I like them," Harry muttered, "I'm just saving them."

"For me?" Sirius grinned, reached out, and speared one of the strawberries with his fork, slowly bringing it up to his mouth.

Harry lifted his shoulders in a gesture of indifference, eyes downcast. "Whatever, you can have them."

Regulus glanced at Sirius. His brother had lowered his fork, the strawberry still impaled upon it. It was perfectly shaped and colored in a deep, even red - a promise of how sweet it was. It looked as though it belonged on the cover of a food magazine and yet it had first been rejected by Harry and then forgotten by Sirius. Sirius' eyes were fixed upon Harry, something unspoken in the air between them.

"We could still go to the cottage," Sirius offered.

Harry did not look up. Instead, he too set his fork down. "You just want to see Ava."

Sirius' chair gave a wooden creak as the man leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Now you're being unfair for no reason, Harry."

"So suddenly you do want things to be fair?"

Harry had been taken aback when he had first realized the full extent of Sirius' friendship with Ava, a muggle who owned a garage in the Scottish village nearby the cottage that Sirius had inherited from the Potters. Harry had known her basically as long as he remembered because they spent several weeks at the cottage each year. She had always been there, a face familiar like the lake, the mountains, the gray stone houses. She made the place part of what it was. Sirius had taken Harry to visit her garage countless times. Usually, when Harry saw her, her hands were dirty with motor oil and she was wearing a blue overall, her dirty blond hair in a messy bun. Once, when Regulus, Harry, and Sirius had met her at the village fair, Harry had barely recognized the woman in her white, flowing sundress. What Harry hadn't realized until last summer was that, at night, when Sirius left the cottage for a couple of hours, he didn't do so to take a night stroll along the lake. It doesn't mean that they're a couple, Regulus had explained, feeling incredibly awkward while doing so. It wasn't his beer, he hadn't ordered it, and he didn't like having to account for it. They're just… well. It was easier to define them in terms of all that they weren't or didn't want to be rather than in terms of what they were. And to explain the finer, more complicated details of Sirius's and Ava's relationship - Regulus had felt that Harry was too young to understand them.

"How about we all try to make the best of this situation, hmm?" Regulus said, interrupting the tense silence that had once more unfolded between Harry and Sirius.

Sirius took another sip of whiskey from his teacup, crossed his legs. When Regulus fixed him with a long stare, he said, "what, are you speaking to me?"

"No, the pink elephant right behind you." Regulus rolled his eyes.

"An elephant, huh." Sirius' lips curled slightly. "I'm not sure whether to be more concerned about it being pink or about the fact that you're talking to it."

Regulus sighed. "If you think you can bait me into asking you if you're serious, it's not going to work."

"Pity."

Suddenly, an alarm went off. Sirius drew his wand, silenced it. "Auror's headquarters," he said with a sigh that almost sounded like relief. "Just a briefing about… you know. The situation." His eyes flickered from Regulus to Harry and then back to Regulus. Then, he shoved his chair back. "It won't take longer than…" he glanced at Harry again, "no longer than ten… fifteen minutes. I promise."

Harry's eyes darkened but Sirius didn't seem to notice, he had already accioed his boots and was slipping into them barefooted, not bothering to put on socks first. Harry said nothing, frowned when Sirius briefly ruffled his hair on his way to the door.

Over the next sixteen minutes and thirty-four seconds, Harry kept his eyes on the clock, stubbornly, his knees drawn up and pushed against the edge of the table. He ignored Regulus' attempts to distract him so Regulus finished what was left of the cake and began to clear the table. The flying carpet unsuccessfully tried to offer some more sweets to Harry. When it got too insistent and attempted to place a sugary cube of Turkish Delight in Harry's hand, the boy swatted the carpet away, causing it to back off, its edges curling in slightly as though it were frowning at the boy. Regulus was relieved when Sirius was back.

"The cake is gone?" Sirius asked, stepping into the room as though he had only been in the bathroom and not at the Ministry of Magic. The carpet, which had folded itself up on top on the edge of the table, whizzed up and offered the same cube of Turkish Delight to Sirius, joyfully circling him once when he accepted it.

"It is," Regulus affirmed.

"How sad."

"Well, you were late," Regulus said in a light tone, brushing a few crumbs off the table and into his hand and from there into his mouth. "One minute and…" he glanced at Harry, knowing that the boy had counted every second, "thirty seconds?" His voice was still light like he had made a joke.

"Thirty-four," Harry corrected him coolly.

Sirius looked at Harry, a little unsure. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "My sincerest apologies for the delay," Sirius said. He clapped his hands once. "What's the next event?"

Harry, who had remained in the same position for nearly twenty minutes, put his feet on the floor and shoved his chair back. "There's none. I'll go upstairs."

"You don't wanna play cards, pup?" Sirius asked. "Or anything, really. Whatever you want to do. I can refill that pool for you if you want." He nodded his head towards the inflatable pool behind him. It was in a sad condition, the walls were airless and sagging and the little water that was left heated up from the sun that reflected on its surface.

Harry frowned as though the idea of using the pool was somehow offensive to him. "No. You can get rid of that, it's for children anyway."

Childhood.

Sirius had never understood the fascination about growing up, the way the prospect of leaving childhood behind pulled children up by the roots of their hair and how they pulled themselves up even further, trying to outgrow themselves.

To Sirius, childhood had been something he'd sacrificed for Regulus' sake. To keep his baby brother safe, Sirius had grown into a parent at the age of four, five years old. Sirius, curled around Regulus, a shield, hardening in the presence of their parents, like hot iron being hammered into shape. The growing pains this must have caused, unimaginable. Regulus wagered that Sirius must still be feeling them sometimes, especially here, in this memory-laden house.

Regulus could never repay him for that. But he also remembered how he had been fourteen, fifteen, going faster, higher, farther, trying to outrun time on that long stretch into adulthood. He remembered how he had tried to shorten it, how he had felt like he couldn't take the wait.

But every time he had tried to explain this to his brother, Sirius, he had looked at him with blank incomprehension because childhood, that sacred gift he'd never been granted himself, how could Regulus have let go of it so easily and not ever look back?

Sirius had his arms crossed as he leaned against Harry's door frame. Next to him, a yellowed piece of paper was fixed outside the open door with spellotape. DO NOT DISTURB, it read in Harry's handwriting.

"What's going on?" Regulus asked. Sirius had gone after Harry to check on him only minutes after the boy had left the drawing room. Not a good idea, as Regulus had told him. As usual, Sirius thought he knew better. When he hadn't returned, Regulus had thought it better to check on them both.

Regulus walked up next to Sirius. The man's profile was hard, blade-like against the light flooding in through the window to his right.

"There," Sirius said in a low voice, jerking his head at Harry. "His idea of a fun birthday, I presume." He sounded slightly bitter, saying that.

Harry was ignoring them both. He was pulling toys from his shelves, tossed them on the floor. A stuffed deer, a toy dragon, colorful board books. Sirius growled under his breath when Harry threw a puzzle box on top of his other toys. The lid fell open and the puzzle pieces scattered across the hardwood floor.

Regulus resisted the urge to place a hand on his brother's shoulder. He had already gotten far too involved, had perhaps made things even worse by taking Harry to the bakery a couple of days ago. He had provided the sparks of rebellion with tinder-dry ground.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think I'm watching a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum," Sirius muttered under his breath.

Harry cast him a dark look.

"Is that how you like to be seen, hmm? Harry?"

Harry huffed. He grabbed a stuffed niffler from his bed and threw it in the direction of the mountain of toys growing on the floor. He missed and it landed right in front of Sirius' feet.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sirius grumbled. He uncrossed his arms, straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the toy to his feet.

"Siri," Regulus said in a low voice, not being able to stay out of it any longer, "why don't we leave him alone for a bit. He'll calm down."

Sirius picked up the stuffed niffler, turned it around. Regulus remembered that Harry had gotten it from Andromeda for his fifth birthday and he had carried it around wherever he went for at least a month, had instantly gotten upset when he couldn't find it. Its black fur had faded to a lighter color and it looked rougher now, nearly like a terrycloth.

Sirius held the toy up, showed it to Harry, its limbs swinging as he gave it a small shake. "You sure you don't want that anymore?"

Harry turned to face Sirius, raised his chin. "I told you. I don't play with toys anymore."

"Yeah, I noticed," Sirius said sharply, "the air of maturity in this room is overwhelming, truly." He tucked the toy under his arm, reached for his wand, and accioed a black trash bag. He opened it by giving it a rough shake and stuffed the toy inside. Then he looked at Regulus, eyes cold, and said, "you heard our thirteen-year-old here, Reggie. Let's help putting all this rubbish away."

Regulus did not move from his spot when Sirius strode into the room, grabbed the toys on the floor, and stuffed them into the trash bag, one after the other. Harry turned very quiet. He was standing next to his bookshelf, a picture book in his right hand as he watched Sirius draw his wand, summon the puzzle pieces, and direct them into the trash bag as well. When Sirius had cleared the floor, he approached Harry, the bag rustling. He held out his hand. "That too?"

Harry shook his head slowly, bringing the book up to his chest and crossing both arms on top of it.

"Then put it back," Sirius said. "Or it's gonna go into the trash bag."

Harry hesitated at first but when Sirius held the trash bag up slightly, he obeyed. "Prat," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough that Sirius heard it.

Sirius' shoulders tensed and a deep line appeared between his bold black brows. "Careful, birthday boy. The line is right there, don't push it."

For a moment, Regulus thought Harry was going to call Sirius another name. He uncrossed his arms and straightened up, preparing himself to interfere if necessary. However, after a brief staring contest between Harry and Sirius, Sirius turned on his heel.

Harry's eyes were like splinters of ice drilling into Sirius' back when he left the room.

As soon as Regulus left as well, Harry had to resist the urge to run after him and ask him to stop Sirius. He knew that there was no point in doing so. Once Sirius had decided upon a consequence, he was going to carry it out.

Harry winced when he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Sirius was really going to put the trash bag with all his toys outside for the muggle trash collection. He walked over to the window, pushed the curtains aside, and peered outside. He watched Sirius tying the bag up and setting it down in front of the gate, right next to where Harry knew the magical wards were drawn to protect their house from being noticed by muggles. Sirius looked up and Harry quickly stepped back from the window.

Harry looked around his room. Knots formed in his belly as he regarded the presents on his desk. He knew that he must have seemed ungrateful, spoiled like Malfoy or Dudley. But he hadn't asked for flying carpets or books, he had asked for something different.

He forced his eyes off his presents. His shelves were oddly empty, glaring holes in between the books and a huge gap on the shelf where he had kept his stuffed toys. Something about how empty his room was made him feel as though someone had come in and stolen all his things. It was what Sirius had done, sort of. Harry had every right to throw his possessions on the floor after all and Sirius gathering them all up and throwing them into a trash bag was nothing but disrespectful.

"Bloody git," Harry muttered to himself like he could still win this argument even after he had already lost it. He contemplated going downstairs and telling Sirius that this was the worst birthday of his life and that he would spend his fourteenth birthday at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had invited him to do so in the past and Harry knew that she would allow him to stay as long as he wanted to. She always seemed heartbroken when he left after staying at the Burrow. It was like he had grown onto her so much that she regarded him as her own.

She's got so many of them, it's hardly surprising that the woman gets confused sometimes, Sirius had said when Harry had told him that. As always when Sirius talked about Molly Weasley, there was a hint of mockery in his voice, but then he had laid his arm around Harry's shoulders and given him a tight squeeze like he wanted to remind himself as well as Harry that Harry belonged to him, not her.

The problem was, threatening to go and live with Ron and his family currently wasn't an option because the Weasleys were still in Egypt and they weren't going to be back for three more weeks.

Harry sat on his bed and drew his knees up to his chest. Late-afternoon sunlight gilded the walls of his room and made the empty spots on his shelves even more noticeable. He felt incredibly miserable, suddenly. Today was his birthday, and even though he'd pictured it precisely like this over the last days - ruined because he wasn't allowed to do anything at all - it felt much worse now that Sirius was mad at him.

If Sirius had simply left him alone, then maybe things wouldn't be as horrible right now. There wouldn't be a trash bag filled with Harry's old toys outside the house. Harry had had every right to be mad at Sirius after all, he had a right to do whatever he wanted on his birthday, and if that included being miserable, Sirius should have respected that.

But Sirius wasn't like that. He stuck to Harry like glue as soon as he sensed that something was wrong. Regulus said that he did it because he loved Harry so much that Sirius couldn't rest until he had managed to fix things. Most of the time, though, it didn't fix a thing, it was just annoying.

Harry sat like this for nearly an eternity, listening for Reg's footsteps, but the house remained quiet. Eventually, he got up, left his room, and tiptoed downstairs. He wasn't sure what he expected to happen or how he would react if he saw Sirius. Perhaps he'd give him the cold shoulder. Perhaps he'd only talk to Reg and play a round of cards with him without so much as looking at Sirius. Or perhaps, if Sirius felt really sorry, it would be fine if Sirius joined them.

Harry had reached the first landing when he heard their deep voices coming from the basement. He was about to make his way downstairs when he paused. Something had caught his attention out of the corner of his eyes - a ray of sunlight, entering through the crescent-shaped window above the front door and falling across the tattered tapestry. He turned and, lured by the promise of feeling its warmth on his skin, walked up to the front door, leaned up on his tiptoes, and peered through the glass peephole. The evening sun was low and fiery, resting on the neighboring townhouses line a dying candle flame. And there, only six steps down the front stairs, was the black trash bag.

Without thinking, he opened the front door. Warm evening light streamed into the sanctuary-like darkness of the corridor. He was about to step outside -

"Close the door this instant." Sirius' voice boomed through the long corridor.

Harry flinched, let go of the door, whirled around. It shut behind him.

Sirius was standing on top of the stairs leading to the basement, dark and tall. His face was tense, his lips a thin line. He pointed to a spot right in front of him. "Get over here."

"I just - just wanted some of them back," Harry stammered. His stomach was doing flips.

Sirius was still pointing to the floor. "Now, Harry James."

Regulus stepped up behind Sirius. "What's going on?"

"Just caught him when he was about to leave the house," Sirius growled. "Harry James Potter! Get over here!"

Regulus sighed deeply, gave Harry a compassionate look but he took a small step back. Clearly, he was not going to come to his rescue.

Harry forced himself to slowly edge closer to his godfather. He knew that he had reached an impasse; there was no way to get past Sirius. He couldn't help but grimace as he approached the spot Sirius was pointing at, dangerously close to him so Harry would be easily within the man's reach.

"I just wanted something back," Harry said in a small voice, his gaze fixed upon Sirius' bare feet right in front of him. "I wasn't really leaving."

"Leaving, huh? And what did I say about stepping out of the house?"

"You said not to," Harry whispered. He winced when a hard swat landed on his bottom and he instantly threw his hands back to protect himself in case more swats were to follow.

"Upstairs, now," Sirius said. He was speaking through gritted teeth.

Regulus was leaning against the corridor wall, next to him their mother's portrait, silenced and hidden behind heavy curtains. He could tell by the way how Harry hurried upstairs that he was quite upset but too proud to shed a tear in front of his guardians.

"It's perhaps partly my fault for setting a bad example. I shouldn't have…" he paused, pushed aside the secret that was still caught behind his teeth, still waiting to be said, "I shouldn't have gone to the bakery the other day."

Sirius had walked over to the front door and was peering through the peephole, bending down slightly as he did so, his back curved like that of a seventy-year-old man. "He's thirteen, old enough to listen. And you're not his brother. He knows that the rules that apply to him don't apply to you in the same way."

Regulus sighed. He tilted his head back, looked up to the large wrought-iron chandelier over their heads. It was draped in enormous spider webs and covered in stalactite-like drips of wax. This house wasn't always an easy place to spend one's birthday. Especially with Sirius all tense and restless like this, eyes constantly flickering to the door, the windows. He watched Sirius open the front door, look up and down the street.

"No one saw him, you don't have to worry," Regulus said. "I extended the wards so that they include the front steps. Remember?"

Sirius stepped back, closed the door, leaned against it. He bowed his head, his long black hair falling into his face like a curtain. "Bloody hell, Reg, all I wanted was to have a good day. That he has a good day."

Regulus thought that if that had been Sirius' objective, his determination must have been lacking because he hadn't had the impression that Sirius had tried particularly hard to make this day a good day for Harry. "It can still get better."

Sirius blew out his cheeks.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Regulus asked.

Sirius lifted his head, rested the back of his head against the door. "If you're gonna make excuses for him…"

"I'm not. But you're the adult here. And, to be honest, I've been expecting something like this to happen for days now. If you go up there and yell at him more, he'll leave for real. Even if it's just to walk down the street but he'll do it, I can promise you that much."

A flash of anxiety crossed Sirius' face. "He does that, he won't be sitting for a week!"

Regulus felt anger harden his insides. Sometimes, he couldn't believe how stupid Sirius could be. And, frankly, he had enough. He was tired of being caught in the middle, even being pulled out of his bed in the middle of the night because Sirius couldn't deal with a thirteen-year-old fishing for information. He pushed away from the wall, stood in the middle of the hallway, stance wide. "You're a bloody moron, do you know that?"

Sirius straightened up as well. "Excuse me?!"

"Threats won't keep him inside for much longer. An explanation will."

Sirius pointed at the door behind him. "He nearly left the house! Peter could be out there, he could be waiting on the other side of the street!"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Please don't blow this out of proportion. Harry just wanted his things back. And you can't tell me that you didn't foresee this happening because as soon as you put that trash bag out there, you knew you were taking a risk."

Sometimes Harry forgot that Sirius had been a soldier, that war was written all over his body and mind. He could be all fun and smiles for days but that could change within seconds because he was always alert. Sirius was always on watch.

Harry's fingers tightened on his pillow as he heard footsteps on the stairs. He turned away from the door, curled up on his side. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and drew his blanket, thin as it was, over his ears.

Someone sat on the edge of his bed and Harry could sense that it was Sirius. A second pair of feet stopped by his desk and then Harry could hear his desk chair being pulled back. It gave a soft creak as Regulus lowered himself onto it.

"I must apologize to you," Sirius said softly. "My reaction to that little outburst of yours earlier was…" he turned to look at Regulus, as Harry assumed, and Harry could nearly hear a smile edging the corners of his godfather's mouth, "well, Reg says it was unproductive but I think it was simply stupid. I lost my temper as well and for that, I apologize."

Harry bit his lip even harder.

Then, there was the sound of plastic rustling right next to Sirius. And then, something plushy next to his ear. Even with his eyes closed, Harry recognized it instantly by its dusty smell. His stuffed niffler, the one that he hadn't been able to fall asleep without when he'd been much younger and which he had still kept next to his pillow over the last years, even though he hadn't played with it anymore since he went to Hogwarts. He turned, his hands automatically going up, fingers tightening around his beloved toy. He felt like a baby for wanting his niffler back but he couldn't help but draw the toy a little closer to himself.

Sirius was still seated on the edge of Harry's bed, the black trash bag sitting on the floor in between his legs. He gave Harry a hesitant smile. "Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah, fine," Harry said with a tiny one-shoulder shrug, feigning indifference. He was relieved that Sirius wasn't mad at him but that didn't change the fact that he was still a little bit angry with Sirius. "But only if you tell me what's going on. I want to know who this Pettigrew person is."

Sirius' smile faltered slightly. He glanced at Regulus, who nodded. At that, Sirius took a deep breath. "You have to promise me that you won't go looking for him. You have to swear it to me, Harry."

"I swear it," Harry responded quickly. He sat up, held his stuffed niffler in his lap, his fingers digging into the toy's sides.

A deep sigh and it was like Sirius released a breath he'd been holding for decades.

"Peter Pettigrew, as you perhaps already know from Tonks, is an escapee from Azkaban," Sirius said. He glanced at Regulus again. "He's a Death Eater and a murderer." Sirius hesitated, rubbing at his neck.

Harry was holding his breath, a tingling sensation running through his body. There was more, he could sense it.

"He's an Animagus," Sirius responded, eyes downcast now, "which means that he can transform into an animal at will. Just like Professor McGonagall, only that he transforms into a rat. And this makes it very hard to catch him."

Harry scooted a little closer to Sirius. Sirius smiled but he looked miserable underneath that smile, the muscles in his cheeks twitching as though he were in pain.

He placed a hand on the back of Harry's neck, drew him close, and placed a kiss on top of Harry's head and Harry could smell the whiskey Sirius had had earlier on his breath. "If anything happened to you, I couldn't bear it," Sirius said in a low voice, "and Peter Pettigrew, he's … he's very dangerous, Harry."

Harry glanced over to Regulus. The man was straddling the desk chair, watching them closely.

"Why is he so dangerous?" Harry asked. He looked back at Sirius.

Sirius swallowed heavily. His tired eyes found those of Regulus and Regulus straightened up, cleared his throat.

"He was our friend," Regulus said. "At Hogwarts and during the first war. We all underestimated him."

Harry felt his stomach turn. There was a sour taste in his mouth. "He was friends with my mom and my dad too?"

Regulus' lips pressed together in a slight grimace. "At some point, he changed sides. None of us noticed."

Harry leaned against Sirius's side. He felt cold, suddenly, his heartbeat heavy. "And he killed people?"

Sirius' arm went around him. The man's warmth was comforting.

"He killed twelve muggles the night You-Know-Who killed your parents," Regulus said. Harry took a sharp breath in. Twelve muggles. "And -"

Sirius interrupted his brother. "I wish we could have made your birthday more enjoyable and I'm sorry we can't go to Diagon Alley. But people have always underestimated Pettigrew and I won't make the same mistake again."

"Do think he's coming for me?"

Harry felt Sirius tense slightly, the man's arm tightened around him.

"I promise you, Harry, that you don't have to worry even in the slightest. You're safe here, we all are."

Harry turned his head and studied his godfather's face, his tired eyes, his sunburned nose and cheekbones, his messy, unkempt hair. Suddenly, he felt a rush of fear at the thought that Sirius wasn't staying safe, he was actively seeking confrontation with this murderer. He wanted Sirius to stay safe too. "But you're not always here."

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. "I can handle myself. Finding him is the hard part. Finishing him off will be child's play after that."

Harry looked at Reg again. The man gave him a soft smile. Maybe there was no reason to be worried as long as Reg wasn't worried. Reg usually knew when to tell Sirius to take care and, while Harry had noticed the crease between Reg's brows deepen slightly over the last days, the man always seemed confident that Sirius was going to return home unharmed.

Something had shifted, something small but significant. Like someone had opened a window, somewhere out of sight, its light not quite reaching them yet, but it was letting in just enough air to breathe.

Later that evening, it began to rain. They listened to it splattering against the windows and it was as though someone had turned a hose on their house. When the rain stopped, Sirius opened one of the windows in Harry's room, climbed up on the roof, Harry and Regulus following him, mindful of the slippery tiles. The lights of the city were gleaming through the rising mist. Something so normal over the last years, today it was special, today, it was a present.

"We're not gonna worry about the windows any longer because the wards keep us safe," Sirius said, said it in a grim tone like he had made a decision. "Reg's wards keep us safe."

Sirius lit a string of firecrackers but after that they simply sat together in silence until Sirius felt Harry's body sinking against his side and he wrapped an arm around his sleeping child.

"Sometimes it seems almost too simple," Regulus said in a low voice, his eyes on Harry, thoughtful. "You realize that, for his birthday, he only asked for one thing?"

"I know but Diagon Alley isn't safe right now."

"He wasn't really asking for Diagon Alley, stupid."

tbc…

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. Thank you to everyone who's still reading.