Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since Hagrid had shown up at the cabin in the sea, Harry had encountered a lot. Talking pictures, goblins and unicorns, flying cars, a promise that Harry was special. After three years, Harry thought he had a good understanding of the difference between what was ‘new’ and what was ‘weird.’

This was weird.

As promised, Harry and Severus had Flooed to Remus’s house in the field on Thursday evening. The smell of a hearty meal swept over them immediately. Sirius greeted them by the hearth, practically bouncing like the dog he could turn into.

The strange normalcy between Sirius and Severus continued. Sirius grinned and clapped Severus on the back, Severus nodded and called Sirius by his first name.

Over dinner, the conversation stayed centered on Harry, even when he tried to change the subject. Harry’s classes, Harry’s friends, Harry’s plans for the next year and further into the future. Harry, who had never spent a single second imagining what he’d want to be after graduation, was flustered by all the attention.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What’s your top class, Harry?” Sirius asked. “Transfiguration, I’ll bet. That was always me and James’s. There are a lot of cool jobs in that field.”

“I think Harry would make an excellent Defense teacher,” Remus commented idly, and Harry flushed hot. His favorite teacher thought Harry could do the same job?

“You think everyone wants to go into academia. It’s got to be Transfiguration. Or, well, maybe Potions,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “That was Lily’s wheelhouse.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yeah, the Potions Master adored her,” Sirius said. “Surely your Potions grade is great too.”

“Well,” Harry prevaricated.

“It’s improving,” Severus said, which did not help.

“A little favoritism there, Severus?” Sirius asked with a jovial smile.

“Hardly,” Severus said. “He’s simply learning more. Harry is doing more studying than any of my other students.”

“Taskmaster and guardian, eh?” Sirius asked. “You couldn’t give him a break?”

“I don’t want to cheat just because Severus is my guardian,” Harry said, though he wouldn’t have minded Severus taking a break from double-checking his homework so often. He had been working with Harry on his penmanship, and always noticed when Harry cut corners in his studying. He was still sure there was some private fight going on between Severus and Sirius, though, so he continued, “The Dursleys usually did Dudley’s homework for him.”

There was a beat of silence. Harry waited with a surge of anxiety. Remus had said that he and Sirius were curious about why Harry had ended up with Severus.

“If the guardianship ever comes to light, I won’t have Harry’s school record brought into question,” Severus said. “He’ll earn every grade he receives.”

“Smart,” Sirius said.

Even Severus looked surprised at that, though he quickly hid it.

“Is there a spell to make someone be nice to you?” Harry asked Remus quietly when he volunteered to help him grab the dessert from the kitchen. They could have easily summoned it, so maybe Remus had always wanted a second away from the strange sight of Severus and Sirius acting friendly.

“There are potions that can create temporary comradery, and spells—dark spells—that can control the mind for a longer time,” Remus said, pulling a cloth off a pie. It was simply decorated with hatched lines of pastry, and dark juice stained the edges purple. “You’ll be learning about those next year. Which of them do you think hexed the other?”

“I can’t decide,” Harry admitted.

Remus laughed. “It’s not magic.”

“Then what is it?” Harry asked.

Remus hummed. “Is it so difficult to believe that they may have finally found something in common?”

“What could they have in common?” Harry asked.

Remus just shook his head. “I promise it’s not magic, Harry. There are two Hogwarts professors at the table. I won’t let anyone hex anyone else.”

“You’re Sirius’s friend,” Harry pointed out.

“And half our friendship has been me making sure Sirius toed the line,” Remus said. “Trust me on this one. And enjoy it. Aren’t you glad they’re getting along?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “I just…didn’t think it was possible.”

“Give them a little more credit,” Remus said. “Now, come on. I hope you saved room for blackberry tart.”

#

A week after the dinner at Remus’s house, Severus invited the two over to Spinner’s End. If he didn’t, he was sure Sirius would find a way to make them come over to Remus’s again. Severus wouldn’t have Sirius seeming like the only one who was trying.

It was all even stranger than he expected. Sirius had taken to the challenge with his usual pigheadness, but Severus hadn’t thought he’d be able to fake friendliness so well. He certainly had never tried at Hogwarts, even to his own estranged family members. It was always quite obvious when Sirius disliked someone.

When he’d arrived, though, he’d hugged Harry, and then made such easy small talk with Severus it could have been believed that someone had Obliviated Sirius. He didn’t touch Severus with the same impunity he did Harry and Remus, thank Merlin. He nearly always had an arm around one or the other of them, or was nudging them with his hip, or ruffling their hair. If he’d tried to touch Severus, Severus thought he might have bit him.

He fed them soup and sandwiches, the kind of simple food that Gryffindors surely liked, and then ushered them outside to fly.

He sat on the chair by the greenhouse and watched the three of them loop in circles over the house. The space inside the wards was not big. Severus had illuminated the wards for today, making them clearly visible. With the horseplay they’d inevitably fall into, Severus didn’t want to risk someone crashing into them. The three broomsticks zooming under the bright orange dome made them seem like lacewings in a jar.

Remus landed on the ground beside him and then stretched, rubbing at his neck. “Mind if I join you, Severus?”

Severus nodded to the chair beside him, and Remus sat.

“Merlin,” Remus said. “I don’t think Sirius aged the same as the rest of us. I can’t fly like I did when I was fifteen.”

No doubt his monthly transformations were hell on the joints as well. Too little research was done into lycanthropy. Ails that magic could easily cure were considered too risky for werewolves—there were too many ways for magic to interfere poorly with a werewolf’s delicate mind and body. It was part of the reason Remus had suggested chocolate against Dementors, rather than leaning on magic.

But then, Sirius had been in Azkaban, not playing for the Wimbourne Wasps.

“I think Sirius simply has too much pigheaded stubbornness not to try to keep up with Harry,” Severus commented. “He’ll probably whinge to you all night.”

“Oh good, we’re dropping the act. Harry asked me if you two hexed each other,” Remus commented.

“What did you say?”

“I told him of course you hadn’t,” Remus said. “He’s a smart boy, Severus. He knows you haven’t become best friends overnight.”

“I was going to ease him into it, but Sirius decided to drop us both in the deep end.”

“That’s very Sirius,” Remus admitted. “Harry will adjust. It’s obvious he’s delighted by this turn of events. Even if he doesn’t trust it.”

Severus hummed.

“I have the feeling Harry rarely trusts when things go right,” Remus said. “Nothing like James or Lily. They forgot about storms as soon as they were over. Harry’s more cautious. More like me and you.”

“Are we so similar?” Severus asked drolly.

“You and I or you and Harry?” Remus asked. “You’re good for him. It’s obvious.”

“Sirius Black doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He’ll come around,” Remus said. “I didn’t think you cared about his opinion.”

“I don’t. He’s a better actor than I expected.”

“He’s always known how to wear a mask. He just made the decision a long time ago not to. He and our other friends became Animagi in school and never raised suspicion. He knows how to lie when it matters. And Harry matters to him.” He looked up at the sky, where Sirius and Harry were zooming overhead. “He’s trying to be a good role model. He wants to do right by Harry. You must see that.”

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so,” Severus pointed out. “Harry is my only priority. Sirius’s feelings are only relevant because of Harry. But I’ve seen that you’re…more of a stabilizing influence on him.”

“Than I was in school? Probably. We’ve both grown up a lot. I’m better at saying what I think, and he’s better at listening when I do.”

“Are…” Severus considered whether he really wanted to ask the question on his mind. Remus looked relaxed beside him, watching Sirius and Harry with obvious affection. Severus only wanted more information. He needed an idea of Sirius’s stability if this farce would last long-term. “How long will he be staying at your house?”

“As long as he likes,” Remus said.

“Grimmauld Place is still his, to his cousins’ dismay. And his assets have surely been unfrozen.”

“He has other options,” Remus admitted easily. “But he’s always welcome with me.”

“Ah,” Severus said, waiting. Remus didn’t say anything else. He was being deliberately obtuse. “What are the two of you to each other?” he finally asked.

Remus laughed. “You didn’t wait as long to ask that as I thought you would,” he said. “I don’t know what we are. I want him to stay with me, in whatever capacity he wants. For as long as he wants. But there’s no rush to decide. There’s a lot for him to work through. I won’t make him make promises before he’s had more time.”

“That doesn’t sound like Black.”

“Sirius,” Remus corrected with a small smile. “And I didn’t say that he hasn’t tried to make promises. He always liked to jump into things headfirst.”

It made sense. Harry may have thrown forgiveness around like candy, but Severus knew well of Gryffindor stubbornness. Severus himself had earned many grudges from Gryffindors which had been nursed against him for decades. Even Lily… But Severus had deserved her censure. Surely the break between Remus and Sirius was less caustic.

This did not sound like a grudge. Sirius had been innocent, to everyone’s surprise. It was more likely that Remus was the more guilty party, as he had doubted Sirius for so many years.

Whether Remus was holding back to self-flagellate, or only to make Sirius think through his own actions, Severus was sure Sirius was in for a long wait. There was nothing more enduring than a Gryffindor’s guilt complex.

“I assume that won’t be a problem,” Remus said.

“As I said,” Severus shrugged, “you’re a stabilizing influence.”

“And you?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t be accused of stabilizing anyone,” Severus said.

“I think anyone who sees you with Harry would disagree,” Remus said. “But that’s not what I’m asking.”

“There’s no one,” Severus said. “That’s not an interest of mine.”

“Never?”

“Never is a strong word, but I’ve gone thirty-five years without it so far,” Severus said.

“Hm,” Remus said, but didn’t press.

They sat in nearly companionable silence until Sirius and Harry landed, sweaty and grinning, and interrupted with an excited recap of their makeshift game.

#

“What’s eating you?” Sirius asked.

It was near the end of summer, and he had spent at least one or two days a week in Sirius’s company since the sudden about-face between his guardian and godfather. He and Sirius were walking around the field outside Remus’s house while Remus and Severus sat on the porch. It had become something of a routine. Severus and Remus seemed to talk easily, and Severus never bemoaned their visits. Harry still kept an eye out in case Severus seemed annoyed, but if he was, he hid his emotions well.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

Sirius had caught his glance toward the house. “Severus?”

Harry huffed. “I’m not going to complain about you guys to each other.”

“So it is Severus.”

Harry stayed stubbornly quiet.

“Harry,” Sirius said, stretching his arms over his head and staring out toward the horizon. The field around Remus’s house seemed infinite. “You can talk to me. It’s not your job to manage me and Severus. We’re doing fine, aren’t we? Even if he’s a terrible cook.”

“I think you’re biased because of how good Remus is,” Harry said, though he agreed. He had offered to cook the last time Sirius and Remus were coming over, since he already cooked so many meals, but Severus had refused. When Harry had pointed out the Dursleys had made Harry cook for guests (even if Harry usually hadn’t been allowed to eat it), it had only strengthened Severus’s resolve. So instead of letting Harry cook for his family, they suffered through undersalted and overcooked dishes.

“Not my fault I picked a—best friend who can cook like a master,” Sirius said. “Remus has been waiting his entire life for me to be around to waste my money on fancy ingredients that he only needs for half a recipe.”

Harry glanced back toward the house. “Do you pay rent here?”

“What? No,” Sirius said. “Remus would never let me. The prick. I have more money than I know what to do with. I have to trick him into letting me spend it—if I act picky enough about the mushrooms and butter, he just lets me buy them.” He huffed. “As though I want a coin of that money for myself. Do you know what it’s like knowing your entire Gringotts account has nothing to do with you? It’s all family money.”

“I do,” Harry said softly.

Sirius gave him a firm look. “Not the same, Harry. Any money Lily and James left you is part of their love for you. They’ll be glad you have the resources to not rely on anyone you don’t want to. Besides, the Potter money came from Sleekeazy’s, not… Well, the generations of unsavory things my ancestors got into.” He didn’t talk much about his family, but he’d mentioned that his cousin was Malfoy’s mum, which had been enough for Harry.

“Severus pays for all my stuff now anyway,” Harry said.

“Good. Now, you’ve been off all day. Tell me.”

Is this what it was like to have a godfather? Someone who noticed your mood and offered to insert themselves into your life? Harry had not known what to expect when he had first met Sirius. There had been so much tension at first—with Sirius certain that Severus had brainwashed Harry, Severus sure that Sirius was trying to steal Harry away, and Ron disgusted by the whole lot. It had seemed just as likely that Sirius would slip out of Harry’s life as quickly as he had slipped into it.

Instead, he was still here, spending time with Harry and Severus.

Harry sighed and brushed his hand over the tall grass along the path. “Ron invited me to the Quidditch World Cup,” he said. “His dad got invited to the Minister’s box.”

“That’s brilliant!” Sirius exclaimed. “James’s parents took us to one when we were in school. It was down in Belgium, so we stayed the week. Remus and I were talking about getting seats to this one too. Not in a box, mind, but still. We’ll have to go now.”

“Severus said no.”

“What?”

“He said that these big events are never safe, especially with how useless the Ministry is,” Harry said in a rush. “And he can’t come with me.”

“As though the Weasleys would let you get into any danger,” Sirius said.

“The flying car Ron and I flew to school for second year has made Severus a bit skeptical of that,” Harry said.

“I’ll straighten out Severus,” Sirius said. “You just tell me about this flying car.”

“You can’t be mad at Severus,” Harry said.

“Relax, kid. I’m just going to talk to him.”

#

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sirius demanded as soon as he closed the door behind them.

Sirius had made a big deal of inviting Severus down to see Remus’s wine cellar after dinner, which was extraordinarily Edgar Allan Poe of him. He had given Harry at least four reassuring smiles, none of which had seemed to actually reassure the boy.

“A month,” Severus said thoughtfully. “You lasted longer than I expected.”

“Don’t try that,” Sirius said, jabbing a finger at him. “I’m not giving up. This politeness bullshit doesn’t mean I can’t call you out when you do something astronomically stupid. I’m sure it wouldn’t stop you.”

“Only one of us seems likely to do something, as you say, astronomically stupid.”

“Really? Care to explain why when Harry invited to the event of a lifetime with his newly-reconnected best friend, you told him he couldn’t go?”

Severus should have expected Harry to bring a complaint to Sirius. They were Quidditch aficionados, after all. Had Harry anticipated Sirius stepping in to argue on his behalf? Their careful month of friendliness would go up like smoke if Harry thought it was clever to set them against each other on purpose.

“I told him I didn’t believe it was safe,” Severus said. “The conversation is over.”

“Mate, it’s the Quidditch World Cup. Box seats. The Prophet says it’s going to be a game for the ages.”

“The Quidditch World Cup, one of the most publicized and crowded events of the year. In the Minister’s box, the biggest target at said biggest event.”

“If you think Harry is going to become a hermit just so he’s safe, you don’t know that kid,” Sirius said. “He’s like me. Being cooped up too long will kill him. Wizards aren’t the only ones with events like this. Harry plays Quidditch at Hogwarts, which always draws a big group from around England to watch—”

“And Dementors and villains hoping to hide their hexwork in a crowd. The Dark Lord’s servant nearly killed Harry during a match in his first year. And in his second, he crashed on the pitch hard enough to spend the night in the Hospital Wing.”

“And despite all that, you let Harry play again even after you took over his guardianship.”

“It’s different,” Severus said. “I’m there.”

“You don’t think the Weasleys would squeeze you in if it meant getting to have Harry along? They love him, and they know this would be the highlight of his life.”

“You know I still will be called to spy for Dumbledore if it comes to that again,” Severus snapped. “I need to maintain my connections with the Death Eaters as long as possible. There’s a reason Harry and I aren’t public about our relationship, and it’s not just because we value our privacy. Showing up with Harry and the Weasleys in the most public manner possible would be impossible to hide or explain away. I cannot attend.”

“Fine, use Polyjuice then. Aren’t you the fucking Hogwarts Potions Master?”

“Ah yes, because Polyjuice is infallible,” Severus drawled. “And if I’m caught? An ex-Death Eater sneaking into the Minister’s box at an international event might incline the Aurors toward aggression first and questions later.”

“You can defend yourself well enough.”

“At the risk of getting sent to Azkaban for resisting arrest? Think one thing through in your life, Black.”

“Sirius,” he corrected. “I told Harry this conversation would be fucking civil.”

Severus rubbed his forehead. “It’s Quidditch, Sirius. You can’t think it’s worth sending Harry into all that.”

“Harry’s at risk just by being alive. If Pettigrew had gotten away that night, he’d be scurrying back to his master as we speak. He was sure that he could bring Voldemort back.” Severus winced. “Remus has enough wards on this place to stop a werewolf from getting out. Words aren’t going anywhere.” He shook his head. “There will likely always be someone after Harry. He can’t be locked away like a zoo animal just because other people want to hurt him. That’s not a life.”

“I’m not locking him away. I’m protecting him.”

“What has he done this summer except shuttle back and forth between our house and yours?” Sirius asked.

“You expected us to go to Brighton?”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Merlin forbid. I know vampires can’t handle the sunlight.”

“There has never been anyone looking after Harry’s safety,” Severus said coolly. “That’s my responsibility now, and I don’t take it lightly.”

“There’s a thin line between protecting and controlling,” Sirius said. “Protect him from the people who want to hurt him. Don’t cage him. He deserves room to try new things. You think I’d believe that Petunia and her husband took Harry to ball games?”

“You seem to have strong opinions about Harry’s aunt and uncle,” Severus said carefully.

“I never met Tuney much—not like you did—but Lily had plenty of stories. And though you’re both cagey, I’m not actually an idiot. Harry didn’t leave a charmed home life to pick you.”

Severus kept his expression cool.

“The things he thinks make you special only make you human,” Sirius said. “There’s something skewed in the way he understands families. Trust me, I know when I see another one. I don’t need the details to get the picture. And frankly, your silence is loaded enough.”

Severus had promised Harry not to share his secret. That didn’t mean he needed to come up with a story to save the Dursleys from suspicion. Someday, when Harry chose, he would share the truth with his godfather—and hopefully learn he would not be met with the judgement and rejection he feared.

Sirius searched his face, and finally continued, “This is the kind of experience that shapes a kid’s life. Don’t leave him with regrets.”

“I know you’re friends with the Weasleys, but they have a history of being overly trusting and easily distracted by the sheer number of children under their care. Harry would not be under constant watch. Even you have to admit that in this situation, that could be a risk.”

“Remus and I were looking at tickets too,” Sirius said. “I wasn’t sure if that would be more helpful or damning. Harry can stay in our tent, if he wants. Or even…” He looked like he was pulling the words from thorns. “Can sit with us down with the plebians. He might hate us all for taking him away from that box, but if it’s that or nothing, he’ll get over it.”

Severus hummed. He hadn’t considered that as an option. Despite his clear desire for isolation, public favor had fallen extremely in Sirius’s direction. It was widely known that he was Harry’s godfather. A public appearance with Sirius would cause only excitement and joy, instead of confusion and suspicion. And Remus and Sirius were far less likely to be distracted from keeping Harry safe.

It was fortunate the question of guardianship hadn’t come down to a public vote. The media, which had spent the past two months lamenting the handsome man’s false imprisonment and brave escape to protect his friends’ son, would not have rested until Harry was Sirius’s.

“You haven’t made any public appearances since the pardon,” Severus commented.

“Can you blame a man for wanting to take some time in a lovely, quiet home in the middle of nowhere after years in that place?” Sirius asked. “Hopefully the reporters will have forgotten how interesting my story is among all the chaos of the Cup.”

“The reporter that gets an exclusive with Sirius Black and Harry Potter would have their career made,” Severus said.

“Shame they’ll never get it,” Sirius said. “Come on, Severus. You’re not alone in looking after Harry anymore, all right? It’s my priority too. You can’t go out in public with him. I can. Let him have this.”

Dear Merlin. Was Severus co-parenting a child with Sirius Black?

“Very well,” Severus said.

“Besides—wait, really?”

“If any harm comes to him, I’ll take it out of your hide with prejudice,” Severus said.

Sirius grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

#

In the end, Sirius and Remus didn’t have to buy their own tickets. As soon as Mr. Weasley mentioned to the Minister that Sirius was interested in attending, Sirius and Remus had been given a personal invitation to join the box as well.

“Classic Fudge,” Sirius had growled while telling Harry. “He can’t be bolloxed to make sure his prisoners are guilty, but he’s happy to hand out free Quidditch tickets for good press afterward.”

Harry stayed with Remus and Lupin in a tent pitched beside the Weasleys. Both appeared small and shabby from the outside, but opened into sprawling suites. Despite his clear irritation with the Minister, Sirius was as excited as any of the students as they explored the grounds before the game. He chatted with Mr. Weasley, dragged Harry to food carts, bought Remus embarrassingly bright Ireland merch, discussed the unexpected uses of the some of the stranger items with a pair of delighted Weasley twins, talked about security spells with Hermione, ruffled Ron’s hair, and debated player stats with Ginny.

Harry had heard the term ‘social butterfly’ before, but had never seen someone embody it so fully. Sirius flitted from person to person with ease, and only seemed to grow more energized.

It was only when people from outside their small group came up that the tension came back into Sirius’s smile. Everyone knew who Sirius was—his picture had been in every paper for the last year—and none seemed to be surprised to find him with Harry.

“Terrible what happened to you, just terrible,” a man commented, shaking Sirius’s hand vigorously. “Terry Tanengra, barrister. If you want to press charges, you could get a tidy sum from the Ministry for their monumental screw-up. I’d be happy to help.”

He placed a card in Sirius’s hand, which Sirius let drop to the ground without bothering to pretend to reach for it. “I’m all right, thanks.”

The man puffed up. “Don’t you think—”

“Come on, Sirius,” Harry said, stepping in and grabbing Sirius’s arm. “You were going to try to win me one of those Snitch plushes.”

Sirius gave Harry a strained, grateful look.

“So, are you living with your godfather now?” Seamus Finnegan asked when they ran into him a few minutes later. He was bedecked aggressively in Irish gear. “That’s awesome.”

“Sirius is great,” Harry deflected.

“Can’t imagine all that. But it’s all worked out now—the Boy Who Lived and the Man Who…” He shrugged. “I thought I had something there.”

“Seamus, you know me,” Harry said. “You know all of that’s just… Newspaper stuff.”

“The rest of the dorm doesn’t end up in the newspaper,” Seamus pointed out.

“Well, no, but—”

Seamus’s cousin, who looked startlingly like Bill Weasley, interrupted to drag Seamus away.

“You know,” Ron commented as they made their way into the stadium, “Sirius might be even more famous than you.”

“Me for my parents dying, him for being wrongly imprisoned by soul-sucking monsters for more than a decade,” Harry said. “Don’t know why more people aren’t begging for fame.”

“Well, I mean. It’s not all bad. It did get you here,” Ron pointed out.

“Your dad got me here,” Harry said. “Sirius’s ticket was a separate thing. You can’t tell me you’d want his kind of fame.”

“I guess not,” Ron admitted. “The Dementors were bad enough for a few minutes. I wouldn’t want to have to keep thinking about them. Professor Lupin is helping play interference, though. They look like they’ve gotten back to normal since the Shrieking Shack. If you accuse me of being a murderer for twelve years, don’t expect such a nice welcome back.”

Harry huffed. “Yeah, you either,” he said, but watched as Remus helped Sirius make his excuses to another handsy interloper.

If Sirius had held any sort of grudge against Remus, Harry had seen no evidence. From the moment he’d returned, he’d seemed nothing but grateful to have Remus back in his life. They orbited around each other like the earth and the moon.

#

The game was like no Quidditch Harry had ever seen. When Victor Krum dove and caught the Snitch, ending the game but handing the win to Ireland, Harry yelled and cheered with the rest of the stadium. Sirius, flushed though Remus had stopped him after two butterbeers, was going hoarse from all the shouting. Even Remus was cheering, clapping loudly and beaming.

“What a game,” Sirius said again when they finally went into their tent for the night.

Harry, still buzzing with excitement, nodded. “No wonder Ron is in love with Krum. That was amazing. I’ve never seen a Seeker like that.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sirius said loyally.

“I don’t know what Severus was so worried about,” Harry said, sitting in one of the armchairs which had come with the tent. He couldn’t imagine having to hear about all of this from Ron and Hermione secondhand.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, well, I would have been so cross with him if he’d stopped me from coming. Nothing happened, and it was a great game.”

“He had his reasons.”

Harry frowned at him. “You’re the one who talked him into letting me come. You know he wasn’t being fair.”

“I know, but… Arthur said there were some rumblings about someone trying to cause a problem, but the Aurors on duty handled it already,” Sirius said. “They kept it quiet.”

“Sirius,” Remus chided quietly.

“What kind of problem?” Harry asked.

“Dark wizards thinking to make a statement. Severus was right about that part—these big events are a platform people wait years to find. Still, it’s fine. You’re safe.” Sirius frowned, cheer fading like water down a drain. “Peter getting the Kiss banked some fires, you know. Every time another high-profile rat in You-Know-Who’s organization gets taken down and removed from the board, even so many years later, it’s a reminder that they lost the war. We’re just cleaning out the last traces now.”

“Sirius,” Remus said again.

“What? Harry deserves to know,” Sirius said.

“We’re having a fun night,” Remus reminded him.

“I know, I know,” Sirius said. He flopped into the chair beside Harry. “I just—Harry, you know Severus would have come if he could have.”

“Severus doesn’t really like sports,” Harry said, confused. Sirius had said it was all right for Harry to complain to him about Severus, but he definitely hadn’t expected Sirius to defend him. It made Harry feel unsettled—and a bit like he’d betrayed Severus by saying anything at all. If even Sirius thought Harry was being unfair to Severus…

“I know, but. A lot of people here thought I was your guardian now. I got questions all day. I’m sure you did too.”

“I like Severus being my guardian,” Harry said. “I was just whinging. Don’t tell him I said all that. I know he’s great.”

“I know, Harry,” Sirius said. “That’s not what I’m saying. You’re allowed to whine about your guardian, especially to me.”

“I don’t want to be ungrateful,” Harry said, still uncomfortable.

“I know you love Severus, kid,” Sirius said. “Today’s just the first time I really realized how much you’re both having to give up to keep it secret. He can’t be with you to look after you all the time, and neither of you can be honest with people. Neither of you deserve that.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I… You and Severus really are friends now, aren’t you.”

“I guess we are,” Sirius said. “I do still wish I were your guardian, you know. But Severus is doing a bang-up job, and I don’t like taking credit for other people’s work. No one out there understands a damn thing about any of us. People should know what Severus is really like.” He shrugged. “What I mean is—if he had stopped you from coming tonight, it would only have been because he cares about you.”

“I know,” Harry said, voice thick.

“A lot of people care about you, Harry. More than you know,” Sirius said.

“It’s true,” Remus said. He stood behind Sirius’s chair and rubbed one of Sirius’s shoulders.

Harry had to swallow. He clung to the part of the conversation he understood. “I really didn’t mean to complain about Severus.”

“Kids don’t always have to be grateful,” Sirius said. “That’s not going to change how any of us feel about you.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. For all of his joking and ceaseless activity, Sirius saw more than Harry had realized. “I… Thanks.”

“I know I didn’t understand it at first,” Sirius said. “But I also picked my own family. Severus isn’t exactly like the Potters, but he’s right for you. It’s about picking the people you want in your life, and you’ve done that.”

“That includes you two also, you know,” Harry said, face feeling warm.

Sirius beamed at him.

“Nothing like Quidditch to bring people together,” Remus said, slightly dry. “Thank you, Harry.” He pulled up a chair beside Sirius and floated a tea pot over the fire.

“You know,” Sirius added, glancing at Remus and seeming to get a reassurance, he added, “if you ever want to tell us about why you ended up with Severus, you can. Remus and I are both here for you.”

“How do you know there was a reason?” Harry asked, folding his arms. Remus had warned Harry during his first visit to his house that Sirius had questions about the Dursleys. He hated the idea of them talking about him behind his back.

“People don’t usually move in with their professors without a reason,” Sirius pointed out. “And, Harry, you…”

He looked at Remus again.

“Sirius’s family was cold. They expected the perfect heir to a toxic legacy, and Sirius was always meant to be more than that. I was bitten when I was young, and my parents did not know how to look at me as a son and not a monster,” Remus said, waving his wand to make the teapot pour itself into mugs that floated over to each of them. “You remind us a bit of ourselves when we were in Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” Harry said, accepting the floating mug. There was tea inside, steaming gently and smelling of home.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Sirius said quickly. “I just… wanted you to know you could.”

Harry stared down into the mug. There was green paint smudged on the back of his thumb. “The Dursleys… They weren’t really happy to have another kid to take care of. They only ever wanted one kid, and they already had Dudley.”

They didn’t interrupt, so to the sounds of cheering and laughter from the fans still celebrating the Irish win outside, Harry told Remus and Sirius about growing up with the Dursleys. It was different than it had been with Severus, or even Ron. Until tonight, Harry had been scared to tell them. The fear that other people would think Severus and Harry had been overreacting was still strong inside him, like bile. But they had asked, and they sat across from him listening without laughter or skepticism.

At some point, Sirius reached out and grabbed Remus’s hand, as though overwhelmed. He didn’t seem like he thought Harry was weak or silly. He looked like the story was hurting him.

Maybe Harry should have stopped then. He didn’t want this to burden either of them.

But there was something magical about seeing how much they cared.

“That’s when I went to Severus’s house. It was just supposed to be for the summer, but eventually all of that…came out. He said it was wrong, what they’d been doing. That it was okay to need medicine—even to take a break from working to rest. He makes sure I eat at least three times a day, even when I fail a test or mess up his garden. He didn’t want me to go back to the Dursleys.”

“I imagine not,” Remus said quietly.

“You haven’t seen them since last summer?” Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think any of us want that.”

“You ran away, disappeared, and they never even…” Sirius cut himself off. “They had no idea what they had with you. How lucky they were.”

Harry twisted his hands, feeling overwhelmed tears welling hot in his eyes. He forced them back, taking a deep breath.

“Merlin, I wish I’d been there,” Sirius exclaimed. “You should have grown up with me, like you were supposed to. You should have grown up with Lily and James. If Lily knew what Petunia had done… She would have hexed Petunia’s ears off.”

“Lily could hold a grudge,” Remus said fondly, but with a sharp edge.

“James would have made popcorn. He loved seeing Lily pissed off at someone other than him,” Sirius said. “Merlin, those monsters.”

Harry frowned. “They never wanted me, and I… It’s not like I loved them. It’s not like I made it easy.”

“You didn’t deserve any of that,” Sirius said, voice thick with emotion. “You were a baby. You shouldn’t have had to earn anything. If things were different, if Petunia and her husband had died and your parents had raised your cousin. They would have given that brat the world.”

Harry had never thought of that. What would it have been like? His parents would have been kind to Dudley, and wouldn’t have let Dudley go Harry Hunting. Maybe Dudley would have been more like the cousins Harry saw on the telly. Maybe they could have been friends.

“I’m glad you told us, Harry,” Remus said. “That was brave.”

The tears threatened to rise again. They understood Harry. They were angry and sad for him. They still cared about him, even now. “Sorry for talking your ears off. I know today was supposed to be fun.”

“Come on, Harry,” Sirius said. “Remus likes being earnest. Don’t take that away from him. We’re the ones who asked you to talk, remember?”

“Sorry, right.” Harry mustered a smile. It came more easily than he expected. He felt lighter, after all that. “Thanks for listening.”

“There you go,” Sirius said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there before, but we’re here now. You’ve got me and Remus and Severus for as long as you need us—and longer. Your aunt and uncle lost their chance.”

#

The Weasleys volunteered to take Harry shopping in Diagon Alley for supplies for his fourth year, and Severus readily agreed. They had managed not to lose him or get him killed at the Quidditch World Cup the week before, and Severus would avoid Diagon Alley whenever given the chance. The best supplies—other than wands, perhaps—were far from that tourist trap, and Severus would need to rely on disguise charms to escort Harry.

Fortunately, Harry had been excited to continue his tradition of shopping with the Weasleys and Hermione. He had taken Severus’s coin pouch with rolled eyes and a reminder that he had his own money, and Flooed to the Burrow to travel into London with the others.

Severus had just settled in on his armchair to read through the latest issue of Potions Quarterly when the Floo flared green again.

He looked up, mouth open to ask Harry what he had forgotten, when Sirius Black stormed into his living room.

“Harry’s gone,” Severus commented.

“I know Harry’s gone,” Sirius snapped. “I told Molly to send me a Patronus when the coast was clear.” His chest was heaving and his eyes were flashing.

“You could have asked me,” Severus pointed out. He kept his voice mild, though he was getting slightly concerned. Sirius had not even been this frothed about Severus trying to stop Harry from attending the World Cup.

“I couldn’t,” Sirius said. “I knew once I started talking to you, I’d start yelling and wouldn’t stop.”

“Merlin,” Severus muttered. Sirius certainly hadn’t gotten less dramatic with age. “Go on, then. What have I done now?”

“I need to know what’s been done about the Dursleys.”

“Pardon?”

“Harry told us all about it after the match,” Sirius said.

Severus was hit with an overwhelming sense of pride in Harry. He had spent most of the start of summer looking at Sirius as though expecting him to finally see Harry clearly and walk out the door. It had taken verbal gymnastics for Severus to convince Harry to tell him about the Dursleys the first time. But Harry had found the courage to trust his godfather, trust Remus Lupin, and bare a piece of him he had hidden for years.

Severus would never stop being awed at Harry’s bravery.

Sirius continued, “I thanked him for talking to us, gave him a hug, patted him on the back. Told him to put them out of his mind and move forward. Do you know. The fucking restraint. I’ve used. Not to fly over to wherever the hell they live. This past week?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Remus threatened to lock me in his basement if I tried it before talking to you, but if Harry knew I was here asking you about it…”

Severus nodded. “I understand.”

“Harry barely wanted to talk about it in the first place,” Sirius said as though Severus hadn’t already agreed. “I think if he had his way, everyone would forget it happened and move on. He doesn’t like people knowing what he went through. The savior of the wizarding world, and he’s afraid people will pity him.”

“He’s more accustomed to not being believed,” Severus said.

Sirius shook his head. “Of course. Of course he was stuck dealing with it on his own for so long. The kid can’t catch a fucking break.”

“We’re trying to fix that,” Severus reminded him.

“And we’re going to do a damn good job,” Sirius said. “But that’s not what I want to know. I want to know what’s happened to the Dursleys.”

“I don’t know,” Severus said.

“What.”

“Dumbledore insisted on handling it.”

“And you let him? Come on. I’ve met you. When’s the last time you let revenge slip out of your hands?” Sirius crossed his arms. “Or did you just not care?”

“Dumbledore assured me he had it handled, and I chose not to look closer because I’m not eager to abandon Harry by being thrown in Azkaban,” Severus said silkily.

“They can’t just get away with it,” Sirius snarled.

“What should we do, Sirius? We’re wizards. They’re Muggles—and Dumbledore is watching them. I could have gone and made them pay for making that boy afraid of his own shadow. I could have struck a fear in them so deep that they’d never leave their house again. I could have scrubbed their cowardly existences off the planet. And I could have lost Harry as soon as I’d gotten him.”

“Dumbledore couldn’t blame us,” Sirius said. “They starved him, Severus. They used him as a punching bag. They yelled at him for doing accidental magic. They treated him like a house-elf. Worse than a house-elf.”

“I’m well-aware,” Severus said. “Are you willing to risk leaving Harry on his own to make them pay? To have Dumbledore or the Ministry take him away from us?”

“You never missed a chance at revenge in school,” Sirius pointed out, but his shoulders were slumped. “This isn’t some petty trick. They hurt him, Severus. They hurt Harry.”

“I know. I stomach it by focusing on Harry. Going after the Dursleys would be for me,” Severus said. “Harry doesn’t want or need that. What he needs is support now. He needs…”

“Us,” Sirius said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I hate when you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Severus drawled.

Sirius laughed, and then repeated, “Us. Who would have thought?” He shook his head. “Harry deserved to have Lily and James in his life. But if we’re the ones he’s got, well—we’re both stubborn bastards. We’ll figure it out.”

“Harry seems content with the arrangement.”

“I wasn’t sure he’d ever tell me what happened,” Sirius said. He flopped onto the couch beside Severus’s armchair as though he owned the house. “I have you to thank for it. He said you were the first person who made it clear that the Dursleys were wrong. That he deserved better.”

“I shouldn’t have been,” Severus said.

“Yeah, well,” Sirius said. “Maybe someone else should have noticed. But people see what they want to see.”

“I… I’m not immune to that,” Severus admitted.

“Everyone makes assumptions. The question is whether you can see the truth and change your perception,” he countered. “Most people make their judgement, and will hold onto it with their teeth until the end of time. They’ll get mad at someone for not changing to meet their expectations, no matter how bullshit and arbitrary those expectations are.” He hummed. “And even if we’re not wrong about someone, even if hypothetically someone did used to be a great wanker, they can change. It’s about being able to see who people are now that matters.”

“This no longer feels like we’re talking about Harry,” Severus said dryly.

“We’re not,” Sirius said with a bright laugh. “I thought Slytherins preferred sideways talk.”

“We do. You don’t need to say anything else.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and smirked. “The great Slytherin weakness.” He stretched his arms over his head. “I’m parched. Aren’t you going to offer me a cuppa?”

“You barged in without warning to yell at me for not murdering some Muggles,” Severus pointed out.

“Is that a no?”

Severus sighed and summoned his kettle.

#

It was the first time Harry had ever been sad to see summer end.

Remus and Severus would be at school with him, though they wouldn’t be drinking tea and playing chess with him. It was the loss of Sirius that hit Harry like a blow. He had only just gotten his godfather. How was he supposed to spend the entire semester away from him?

Harry hugged him tightly goodbye at the train station. Severus was riding on the train again, as he’d declared he’d do going forward after the Dementor incident, but had already boarded along with Remus. Sirius was the one officially seeing Harry off. Severus had declared that the rumor of Sirius being Harry’s legal guardian was one worth cultivating.

“I’m going to miss you,” Harry said quietly. They were still drawing attention the way they had at the Quidditch World Cup. Harry had heard at least two people whisper Sirius’s name as he’d walked past.

“Write letters,” Sirius suggested. “If I don’t see Hedwig at least once a week, I’ll be right disappointed.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “I will.”

“Plus, visitors are allowed to come for…certain activities,” Sirius said.

“Maybe you can come to my Quidditch matches,” Harry suggested.

“Right, yeah,” Sirius said vaguely. When Harry frowned, Sirius said, “You’ve got to keep sharp on that Firebolt. I expect you’ll be practicing a lot. We’ll play one-on-one next holiday to see how you’re doing.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and looked at him with pride. “Christmas will be here before you know it.”

On the train, reunited with Hermione and Ron again, Harry watched Sirius out the window. Sirius smiled and waved, but he looked very alone on the massive platform.

When he was out of view, Harry turned back and sighed.

“Harry,” Hermione said, leaning forward. “Do you think Professor Snape could give us a little extra tutoring? I mean, if we happen to visit you in his quarters, and we happen to have a question…”

“Lay off it, Hermione,” Ron said. “Not everyone wants to talk about school every second of the day. Not even professors.”

“Severus might,” Harry admitted. “You’d be amazed by how much time he spends on potions. He brews for the Hospital Wing, you know, along with testing new ideas.” He held up a hand. “He’s still not going to be very nice in class. It would be suspicious.”

“Of course,” Hermione sniffed. “I’m sure it’s very useful for Dumbledore to have someone with an in if someone like Pettigrew ever does make it back to You-Know-Who. But no one has to know if I stop by with the occasional theoretical question…”

Harry spent the rest of the train ride assuring Hermione she was still ahead of him going into their fourth year. Ron tuned them out with the skill of someone with six siblings, doodling on a parchment.

At the welcome feast, Dumbledore announced that there would be no Quidditch—instead, the school would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.

“Wicked,” Ron said as they walked up to Gryffindor Tower, eyes shining with the idea of the prize money. “Harry, you must have known, right? Two Hogwarts professors around all summer. They must have known.”

“They didn’t let a hint drop,” Harry said. “Sirius knew too, though. He almost gave it away at the station today.” He frowned. “I wish Quidditch didn’t have to be canceled.” He had been looking forward to having Sirius cheering for him in the crowd. Severus always watched, but he couldn’t give away that he was rooting for Harry.

“Merlin, the Triwizard Tournament, though,” Ron said, still awed.

“What is it with school and encouraging students to do deadly stunts?” Hermione asked. “It’s like Dumbledore is hoping for someone to die.”

#

“It’s like Dumbledore is hoping for someone to die,” Severus said to Minerva.

They were drinking tea in her office a few weeks after the start of the semester. They had planned to meet earlier, but term start always was more exhausting than expected. Severus found the time, though—he didn’t need her cornering him in the teacher’s lounge again.

“There are more safeguards on this Tournament that there are at Gringotts,” Minerva said. “The eyes of the world are on this match. Fudge—and Dumbledore—won’t be responsible for starting an international incident.”

“I’m just glad Harry and his little friends will be far from it. I’ve told Harry quite firmly, and he promised me not to try anything foolish.”

“That is what the Age Line is for,” Minerva commented.

“Please. You’ve been a professor far longer than I have. As I had told the Headmaster that even with the line, there are sure to be stupid kids trying to enter. If we don’t see at least one aging spell or potion, I’ll eat my hat. And even those who entered legally are too young to be gladiators for the world’s entertainment.”

“And what did Albus say to that?”

“He laughed and moved ahead,” Severus said. “As usual.”

“You were never this worried about the students before,” she said. “If this had happened three years ago, you’d have said anyone fool-headed enough to enter deserved whatever they got.”

“Half of my job is making sure my students don’t reap the consequences of their idiotic mistakes,” Severus said. “Otherwise you’d see far more students in the Hospital Wing from inhaling toxic fumes or turning their hands into cabbages.”

“Still, paternal is a good look on you.”

Severus scowled at her. “Did you invite me to tea just to tease me?”

“Partially, though I am being serious. I wanted to hear how you’ve been getting on. To hear Sirius tell it, you’ve teamed up since summer started. If I’d had to place a bet on how this summer would go—and Elsie tried to get me to after what she saw at the party—I would not have expected peace so quickly. The two of you hold grudges like other people hold onto their wedding rings.”

“Harry was more important,” Severus said simply.

“I didn’t know what to think when I learned you had taken over as his guardian. I was a bit worried, Severus. Softness doesn’t come easily to you.”

He raised a sharp eyebrow at her.

“Yes, yes, nor to me. But I never adopted a kid,” she said, pointing at him. “I know my strengths. Clearly I underestimated yours. A truce with Sirius for the sake of Harry. I have to say that I’m proud of you, Severus.”

“Sirius is not as terrible as he once was,” Severus allowed.

“He said something similar about you,” Minerva said. “You’ve both had some difficult times since school. I’m glad you can see who the other has become.” She folded her hands and looked at him seriously. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you as a colleague, Severus. I’ll be excited to see what parenthood brings for you.”

“Parenthood,” Severus repeated cautiously, tasting the word in his mouth.

“That’s what it’s called when you raise a child. You’re his legal guardian, remember?”

“Parenthood implies… snotty noses and bottle-feeding,” Severus said.

“Parenthood doesn’t end when a child turns eight, Severus. Unless you plan on stepping away when Harry turns seventeen, parenthood is a lifetime position. If you planned on tossing Harry out on his ear when he came of age, I don’t imagine you would have fought so hard to keep him under your care.”

“Of course not,” Severus said, though he hadn’t thought so very far ahead. He wanted to be there for Harry. Each year seemed to be its own trial of dangers and obstacles.

He imagined their lives in five years. Ten years. Thirty years. Harry did not seem the type to abandon family easily. He had a vision of a beaming Harry Severus’s current age striding into Spinner’s End, grown and healthy. Would Harry ever have children of his own? Severus was not good with infants, but to help Harry? He would learn.

Severus’s dreams of a quiet, isolated retirement were certainly no longer in the cards. He doubted he’d have a holiday alone again, and the thought was warming. After all he had done, Severus had not imagined landing in a future with people to care about him.

Would Sirius still insist on challenging the children to Quidditch matches? Remus would likely be the best of them with any younger children. He had patience to spare.

He stared down at his teacup, trying to contain his whirling thoughts. He was imagining a future where Sirius and Remus remained a regular presence. And it felt natural. They were a part of Harry, and had become engrained in Severus’s routines. That intertwining would surely only get worse as time went on.

He had known taking Harry in would bring changes to his life, but he could never have foreseen this.

“He’s lucky to have you, you know,” Minerva said gently.

“I believe it’s the other way around,” Severus said, and took a sip of his tea.

#

Harry missed Quidditch, but the Tournament was, at least, a fantastic distraction through the fall semester. Class seemed to fly by as the other schools arrived at Hogwarts, the of-age students put their names in the Goblet of Fire, and the three champions were selected. Other than having to avoid a blonde reporter who seemed desperate to hear about Harry’s touching reunion with Sirius, it was all good fun.

Harry sat with his friends in the stands while the champions faced down dragons on the Quidditch pitch. Everyone was cheering for their school champion raucously. Harry had never been in the stands at Hogwarts during a Quidditch match. Did the people on the field always seem so small?

It was bittersweet to be at the field and not playing. The cancellation of Quidditch was driving the whole team mad. Harry kept practicing, but it felt empty to run drills without a match to look forward to.

It was a strange echo of the Quidditch World Cup more than any memory Harry had at Hogwarts—though Remus was across the field with Severus in the teachers’ stand.

And Sirius hadn’t shown up.

“I wish I had been the champion,” Ron commented wistfully, watching Fleur dodge the dragon’s large fangs.

“Oh, you reckon?” Hermione challenged. “This is really dangerous, Ron.”

“Charlie probably could have given me a clue how to get by them,” Ron said.

“I’m with Hermione,” Harry said. “I wouldn’t want to do it. All these people watching to see if you get hurt. No thanks.”

“I’m sure this is small fry to you,” Ron said. “You’ve fought a basilisk, and that wasn’t even with the entire Ministry watching to protect you. This is probably too easy for your taste. I just think younger students should have gotten a chance at that prize money too.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a tired look, but Harry loyally said, “I bet you would have won.”

#

Severus sat in his quarters, waiting for a response from his Patronus, and dwelled on the recklessness of the Tournament.

The Floo turned green, and a head appeared in the flames. Severus put aside his worries about the Tournament for more pressing matters. “Sirius,” he greeted.

Sirius looked terrible. His hair hung in a greasy curtain around his head, and there were circles under his eyes so dark they were clear even in the uneven firelight. He had lost weight—his cheekbones were like blades. “You summoned me?” Sirius asked dryly.

“The first task was yesterday,” Severus said. “Of the Triwizard Tournament. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure. It seems to be the front of the Prophet every day lately.”

“What do you want, Severus?”

Severus eyed Sirius for a long moment. “Do you want a blackberry tart?”

“I—what?” Sirius asked.

“The house-elves send up treats for Harry, even when he doesn’t come by.”

“You’re sure they aren’t sending them up for you?” Sirius asked. “You do look like you could use some fattening up.”

“They’re taking the wrong approach if they’re sending sweets,” Severus said. “I’ve never had much of a sweet-tooth. Do you want one or not? Surely you’ve missed the house-elves baking.” And Remus’s baking. He had cooked every meal and dessert they’d had with the pair all summer.

“Well, all right,” Sirius said doubtfully.

“Excellent.” Severus levitated a tart across to the fireplace, where Sirius snatched it from the air with his teeth. “Now, you eat while I talk.”

Sirius scowled at him, but didn’t stop chewing.

“You disappointed Harry yesterday. I know he wrote you a letter—more than one—asking you to come to the trial. There’s no Quidditch this year, which is what he really wanted you to be here for, but he was still looking forward to seeing you. It’s been months, Sirius. Months.”

Sirius opened his mouth, and Severus interrupted, “Merlin’s beard, please swallow before you start talking.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Harry didn’t know I existed until last year. He’s perfectly capable of surviving without me for a bit. He has you here, after all.”

“And Remus,” Severus said.

Sirius winced.

“Tell me,” Severus said silkily, “that this entire mess isn’t because of some lovers’ spat between you two. Remus told me he also asked you to come to the trial. What in the world could have happened since last week?”

“Nothing, all right?” Sirius said. “We’re fine. Everyone’s fucking fine.”

“Right.”

“They are,” Sirius said. “They’re completely fine without me.”

“And how would you know that if you haven’t spoken to them?” Severus asked. “Merlin, you need out of that house. You’re at Grimmauld Place, aren’t you?”

“Couldn’t stay at Remus’s without him, now could I?”

“Did he say that, or is that another invention of your deluded mind, like this theory that both Remus and Harry have moved on without you in less than three months?”

Sirius just scowled at him. He looked the way he had in the Shrieking Shack that night in the spring. Severus had wondered at how well Sirius had seemed to adjust to life after Azkaban, but perhaps there were more scars there than he had realized. Sirius Black was a Gryffindor to his bones, and even before Azkaban he had not been the type to be happy with solitude.

The fool was digging his own damn grave.

“Harry talks about you all the time. He was looking forward to seeing you this weekend.” Severus sneered. Kindness did not seem to be working, but Severus had never been limited to that option. “You’ve only been in his life since the start of summer. I’m impressed you’ve already become a deadbeat.”

“That’s not on,” Sirius snapped.

“Isn’t it? You’re acting like a child who didn’t get the Christmas presents he wanted, not an adult with responsibilities,” Severus said.

“What do you care if I am?” Sirius said. “You wanted me out of his life from the second I walked into it. You should be throwing a parade.”

“You convinced me you would be good for Harry,” Severus said. “Prove it.”

“They’re better off without me,” Sirius said.

“You don’t get to make that decision.”

“Why not?”

“Because yours isn’t the opinion I care about,” Severus said coolly. “Harry forced me to let you into his life. Now I’m going to force you to stay.”

“Severus,” Sirius said, sounding lost.

“There’s a Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks,” Severus said. “Be there. Surprise Harry. Take him for a butterbeer, and then apologize to Remus. They’re both fools of Gryffindors. They’ll forgive you this nonsense.”

“Should they?” Sirius asked.

“Does it matter?” Severus returned. “If you’re who they want, who are you to tell them otherwise?”

“That’s selfish. They deserve better.”

“Most likely,” Severus said. “But you’re not going to change their minds about you, no matter how much of an idiot you are. You can either make them both suffer by dragging this out, or accept your fate and try to be better for them.”

“Is that what you did?”

“Obviously.”

“Hm,” Sirius said. “I hope you don’t talk like this to your Slytherins.”

“I believe it’s called tough love. Take another blackberry tart and get out of my fireplace.”

#

“Hey, Moony!”

Harry turned at the sound of the familiar voice bouncing off the narrow streets of Hogsmeade just in time to see Sirius run into Remus, dip him, and kiss him soundly.

The crowd of students visiting the village for the weekend walked around them. The Hogwarts students whispered to each other—Harry wasn’t sure whether it was because of Sirius’s new fame or because it was their professor being snogged in the middle of the street. Several Beauxbatons students clapped.

Rita Skeeter shouted at her cameraman to get a photo before they both slipped on a patch of ice and fell to the cobblestones. It was the first week of December, but Harry had been sure the street was clear.

Hermione, pocketing her wand, said to Harry, “Sirius certainly knows how to make an entrance. I didn’t know he was visiting this weekend.”

Harry watched his godfather and Remus break apart and start talking in low voices. Sirius’s hands were on Remus’s face. “I didn’t know they were together.”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “Wasn’t Sirius living with Professor Lupin all summer?”

#

For the first time, Harry went home for Christmas.

After showing up at Hogsmeade and snaring Remus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in for lunch at the Three Broomsticks, Sirius had insisted Harry come visit for Christmas. He had started to explain the renovations he was making to Grimmauld Place, but Remus had smoothly put in that they would celebrate the holiday together at his house.

In the end, neither Severus nor Remus could spend the whole break away from Hogwarts, so they decided to have a joint celebration on Christmas Eve.

Severus offered to bring a few dishes, but was turned down, so they showed up at Remus’s house with only a stack of presents. Sirius greeted them at the door with a Santa hat and a broad smile on.

“Ignore all the mistletoe,” Remus said as he brought out a tray of drinks for them in the sitting room. Green leaves were hanging from nearly every threshold. “Sirius thought it would be funny to stick them onto anything that stayed still long enough.”

When Remus walked back toward the kitchen, Sirius ran to intercept him at the doorway and snog him. Remus rolled his eyes, but gave Sirius another kiss before going back to the stove.

Remus was not the only victim. When Harry and Sirius passed each other under the mistletoe by the fire, Sirius kissed him soundly on the forehead. Aunt Petunia used to kiss Dudley like that. Harry had always thought it made Dudley look like a baby. But it felt nice.

When Severus passed Sirius under a floating mistletoe in the middle of the room, they both froze for an instant. Harry stared, eyes wide.

Severus started to brush past, but Sirius grabbed his arm and pulled him close. “Tradition,” he said, before laying a smacking kiss on Severus’s cheek. Severus sighed, but did not pull away as Sirius patted the cheek he’d just kissed. “Glad you’re here, mate,” he said.

“Astonishingly,” Severus said mildly, “I feel the same.”

They had dinner in the dining room, and then retired with full bellies back to the sitting room. Sirius was in a fine mood, laughing so hard he would probably lose his voice by morning. Severus was relaxed and casual, making dry comments that set up Sirius perfectly for his next joke. Remus leaned against Sirius on the couch, more comfortable than Harry had ever seen him.

Harry felt flushed and happy. In the spring, he would never have imagined this. Sirius and Severus had been at each other’s throats, with Harry caught in the middle.

At the end of his second year, Harry had not dreamed he would have any family at all besides the Dursleys. His aunt and uncle would not have called this a family—his guardian, his godfather, and his godfather’s partner. It was too chaotic, too informal.

Harry could not imagine anything better.