Chapter Text
The courtroom was too hot that summer, and they sat stiffly in front of the bench, waiting for the judge to arrive and deliver his ruling. The proceedings were over, the lawyers had laid out their cases, the will had been examined a thousand times, the evidence of Lily and James Potter’s last wishes for their son was all laid out methodically by competent legal professionals, the two families had argued, and at the end of it all, the only thing left to do was wait, and watch, and pray that the ruling was favorable.
The thirteen-year-old boy sitting next to his uncle was itching to leave. Aching to leave. His desire to leave his aunt and uncle hurt more than the pain in his left arm and his back and his side after his uncle had thrown him down the stairs for getting in the way.
If the judge ruled that he would have to stay with his aunt and uncle, there would be no forgiveness, no reconciliation to be had. His uncle had been sure to tell him as much before the custody proceedings began. If his godfather had lost the case, Harry Potter’s life would be worse than ever before.
Across the court room, a handsome man in a fine dark suit winked at his godson. The scraping of chairs against the wooden floor welcomed the judge, who hardly acknowledged the room.
“Be seated,” he ordered, and Harry tried to stay calm and still and respectful like Sirius’s lawyers had told him to be.
The judge began to drone on about the technicalities of the case, but Harry was hardly listening. He wanted the ruling. The judge held Harry’s fate in his hands. The question of if his life would be heaven or hell hinged on one dusty old man who was bound to act in the child’s best interests in cases like these. Harry watched Sirius from across the room, his face impassive, his breath markedly even. No aspect of his countenance gave away what he was thinking and Harry was struck with an awful thought—did his godfather even want him?
Sirius was a Gryffindor and a loyal and honorable man. Sirius had promised Harry’s dad that he would take care of his son in the event of his death. He hardly even knew Harry. What if Sirius was just fulfilling his duty? What if that was all it was to him? It was an awful doubt, but one Harry couldn’t quite shake. He had been taken in as a matter of duty to one of his dead parents before. What if the second time was the same? Where would he turn to then?
“The court finds in favor of Mr. Black, and rules that full legal and physical custody of Mr. Harry Potter be placed with his godfather.”
Sirius’s lawyers shook each other’s hands and Harry shot to his feet. He was off like a bullet running towards Sirius, who’s face had lightened into the happiest, most beautiful smile Harry had ever seen. And he was smiling at him.
“Sirius!” he cried and threw his arms around his godfather- his new guardian- and heard him exhale sharply through his nose before gently taking him in his arms, cradling his head as if he were still a baby.
“Harry,” Sirius whispered. “My boy.”
They clung to each other, the last port in a storm, and Harry heard his godfather take a few ragged breaths that he thought it might be polite not to comment on.
“Congratulations, Mr. Black,” the Dursley’s lawyer said, nothing more than a professional courtesy.
“Good luck with the little shithead,” Uncle Vernon said coldly, addressing Harry’s new guardian. Harry flinched slightly and Sirius pulled him closer. “He’s nothing but trouble. You’ll see.”
“Sorry,” Sirius said, matching his tone and then doing one better with a holier-than-thou high-class accent. “You must be confused. I got the good one.”
But Harry still tensed in his godfather’s arms. His Uncle probably had a point—there had to have been a point when the Dursleys decided that he was more trouble than he was worth—the point when they decided not to love him anymore. He couldn’t remember it exactly, but the coldness in them had to come from somewhere. He couldn’t let Sirius stop loving him. He would be the best godson a man could ask for.
“Come on Harry,” Sirius said at long last, after the Dursleys left the courtroom and they were some of the last few people left behind. “Let’s get you home. Remus will be waiting for the news.”
They set off together, arm in arm.
“What about my things?” Harry asked.
“You had them packed in your trunk?”
“I never unpacked. The trunk is in the cupboard already, right next to Hedwig,” Harry assured him.
“Wonderful,” Sirius said. “I’ll send someone to bring them by tonight. Don’t worry about a thing. Have you been apparated before?”
“Done what?”
“It’ll flash us back home in a second. It’s not comfortable, I’m afraid, but it is over quickly,” Sirius said. “I’ll take you with me. Hold on tight.”
Harry grabbed onto the arm Sirius offered him, and he felt himself being magically pulled away, off the ground, around and around in nauseating circles and then it was over, and his feet were on soft grass outside a little cottage on a cliffside, overlooking the ocean. The kid stumbled, and his godfather caught him.
“Steady on,” Sirius chuckled. “Welcome home, Harry.”
“This is beautiful,” Harry said, looking at the cottage and the garden, breathing in the salty air, listening to the waves crash on the bottom of the cliff. “When did you set this up?”
“Oh, just recently. Remus and my things aren’t even put away yet, and nothing in the house is quite decorated or set up correctly, but we thought you might like a say. Especially in your room?”
“My room?” Harry asked, excitedly.
“Where else did you think we’d keep you? The store closet?” Sirius chuckled. “Come on now. If I do the tour without Moony, he’ll have my head.”
Sirius let him up the path to the front door and let him in through the front door. The cottage was a thousand times homier than Privet drive ever had been. Cardboard boxes that hadn’t been opened yet were stacked and pressed against the walls, and the only furniture in the house was an old beat-up couch, a coffee table, and a vintage record player.
“Sirius did we get—” Remus limped out to the living room and gasped, “Harry!”
“We won, Moony,” Sirius said. “We got the kid. We got Harry.”
Remus hurried to the boy hugging him tight. “Harry,” Remus repeated, touching his cheek gently. Harry watched in wonder as his professor’s scarred face changed from worry to joy to terrible guilt to absolute elation. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.
“I’m not your professor anymore, remember?” Remus said. “Why don’t you call me Remus. Or Moony. Whichever you like.”
“Alright,” Harry said, with a smile. “And you’re sure you won’t come back to Hogwarts?”
“I’m sure,” Remus said, his smile taking a turn for the sadder. “I don’t know that you’d even want to be a teacher’s kid in front of your friends, Harry.”
“Are you kidding?” Harry asked. “I would love it.”
Harry would have loved to be anyone’s kid, anyone’s anyone, but he didn’t say that. It would have sounded too weird.
Remus laughed and ruffled his already messy hair affectionately. “Do you want the tour or lunch first?”
Sirius and Remus looked at Harry, waiting for an answer. Harry had not eaten since he had managed to sneak some food from the kitchen at Privet drive in the dead of night, two nights ago, and the smells coming from the kitchen were mouthwatering.
“Whichever,” Harry said. “Either way works.”
“Let’s get the kid fed,” Sirius decided, watching his godson’s eyes, his best friend’s wife’s eyes, flit towards the kitchen, for a split second. “Lunch smells delicious, Remus.”
Remus nodded, and led the way through the door, where the dishes were magically laying themselves out, and the meal he had made was keeping itself warm. Harry wasn’t sure what there was to do to help—Remus’s domestic magic taking care of the work of setting up lunch—the family lunch, he realized with a thrill.
“Sit sit,” Sirius said. “The both of you. Make yourselves comfortable.” He was being hospitable to Harry and worrying over Remus in the same breath. He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his face as he looked at his family. There was a glow on Harry’s cheeks, a brightness in his eyes, that he had never had before—not in a while anyway. His new guardians noticed, as they offered him dish after dish, a feast made from Remus’s restlessness and love for the kid. The men smiled to themselves as Harry dug in, nearly frantic with hunger, inhaling his food faster than Remus could serve it.
“Moony this is so good,” Harry gasped out in between bites.
“Breathe,” Remus instructed. “There’s more. We have plenty.”
“They…” Sirius trailed off, glancing at his partner, brow knit together. “Your aunt and uncle, they… fed you right?”
Harry froze mid-chew and smiled, only with his mouth. “Yeah. Of course,” he said, mouth still full. After that, the men saw a conscious effort on Harry’s part to eat slower, and with sinking hearts, knew the real answer.
Their charge, their kid, their Prongslet had been starved by his former family. They had been aware that the child was unhappy in his home, that he wanted to be raised by someone else. But they expected it to be that he was misunderstood in a muggle home, that those unaffected by the pressures of the war that killed his parents might not grasp his situation and provide him with the support he needed. They couldn’t fathom that his most basic needs weren’t being met.
“So, Harry,” Sirius began. “The case.”
“I don’t have to see them again, I don’t have to go back, I’m happy,” Harry declared, and Remus smiled.
“We just want to be clear with you,” Remus said. “Legally, Sirius is your guardian, and I would be one of your emergency contacts.”
Harry looked at their serious faces and nodded, trying to see what they were getting at.
“Harry, we both love you very much, but we can’t adopt you,” Sirius said, matching Remus’s tone.
“Oh,” Harry said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, no worries.”
“Let us explain,” Remus said. “It’s only the money that’s keeping us from doing it.”
“The money?” Harry asked.
“Your trust fund,” Sirius explained. “And the rest of the Potter gold.”
“The rest of the gold?” Harry asked. “I thought—”
“That’s just your trust fund. Lily made James lock up the rest of the money until you were of age. Didn’t want you raised spoiled like your old man,” Sirius said, with a fond longing smile. “Your trust fund will be enough to last you and your family a lifetime. The rest of the gold, the Manor, the house, the royalties from Sleakeazy’s patents? They’ll last your great-great-great grandchildren a lifetime.”
Harry’s jaw was on the floor as his godfather went on. “If we adopt you, it’ll make it harder for you to receive the inheritance that rightfully belongs to you. The Potter gold can only go to a Potter. There’s blood magic on old money like that, and it might not go straight to you if you’re a Black. But that is the only thing stopping us from making this official. From now on, you’re our kid, and we will love you as if you are our own.”
Harry smiled and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Love you too,” he added, but it felt funny to say that. He didn’t regret it, exactly, but he wasn’t sure he meant it. Not yet anyway. But looking at their faces lighting up with joy, Harry decided that it was better he say it all the time.
After lunch, they took him around the house, giving him the tour of both the stories of the cottage, saving his bedroom for last. The cottage was under furnished but beautiful. They had only the basics. A couch. A coffee table. A dining table. Enough pots and pans and dishes for a couple of bachelors who never really cooked for themselves. Remus had a stack of domestic magic books, and cookbooks stacked next to the stove. Sirius had a box full of Rolling Stones—a subscription he had maintained since 1971—the magazines steadily delivered to Remus’s place till nearly every issue lived in the cardboard boxes next to his classic rock vinyl collection and record player.
Remus didn’t have many things. He confessed he had pawned everything he had of value when times got hard—before he got his teaching job at Hogwarts. He did have a collection of books he couldn’t bear to part with, and he had set those boxes in the corner, near the fireplace, where the library was going to go. Remus had a box of letters and another box of photos and another box of James’s sketches, and of home videos of when Harry was young, and Harry’s baby things, all still boxed up. They would go through the memories together later. After Harry was settled in and the house was set up and felt like a home.
Sirius had a lot of cool things, things he had left with Remus before he had been arrested and imprisoned, which Remus hadn’t been able to look at, much less sell. Sirius showed him nearly all of Rolling Stones’ print run, only missing four years’ worth of back issues from before he had discovered muggle music. He showed him an electric guitar he had learned to play back in his Hogwarts days to impress a girl he had been sweet on. He showed Harry a motorbike that was in desperate need of repairs, and a garage full of tools dedicated to the task. He showed Harry a leather jacket that Lily had gotten him one Christmas, and the charmed helmet that James had given him so that he wouldn’t hurt himself.
Harry was wonderstruck. He wanted to know everything that Sirius knew. He wanted to learn to play guitar and repair a motorbike and make his hair fall effortlessly over his eyes that way. He wanted to learn everything about his godfather, and perhaps most importantly, Harry wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him down for every tidbit and scrap he knew about his mother and father.
When they led him to his room, nothing was set up and the men were a bit sheepish.
“We didn’t know what you would like,” Remus admitted. “We thought we’d best let you tell us.”
“This is… brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. His new room was bigger than Dudley’s room, with large windows that overlooked the ocean. They had a mattress airing out on the floor and a booklet of colors that he could choose from.
“What’s your favorite color?” Sirius asked.
“Red,” Harry said, with certainty. “Gryffindor red.”
Sirius chuckled. “Good choice. Perhaps for the bedding.”
He flicked his wand and the bed was made up in red, for Gryffindor.
“What sort of bed do you want?” Remus asked, enthusiastically.
“There are sorts of beds?” Harry asked feeling foolish.
Sirius turned to Remus a teasing grin on his face. “Tell me Moony, did you know the different sorts of furniture when you were thirteen? I distinctly recall a certain dormitory that--”
“I suppose I didn’t,” Remus confessed cutting Sirius off before he could reveal a detail that was too embarrassing. “I just learned these things last month when we started setting this place up. You mum always had an eye for these things. She could make a room feel like home—she helped us with our last place, but I never learned her secret.” Harry looked up at Remus, who stared at the room a little disconsolate.
“I already think this room looks bloody brilliant,” Harry told him.
“How’s this?” Sirius transfigured the bits of wood they had stacked around the room into a sturdy bedframe and levitated the mattress on top of it. “What’s your team?”
“My team?”
“Quidditch team. Which one?” Sirius crossed the room and picked up ten rolled up quidditch poster.
“Puddlemere,” Harry said and Sirius whooped.
“Mine too,” Sirius said. “Same as your dad’s.”
Sirius charmed the right poster to the wall, and picked up another stack of posters. “Do you have a muggle football team?”
“I like Manchester,” Harry said, and Sirius was tripping over himself to get the poster up next to the Puddlemere.
“Your mum’s football team,” Remus said. “You are so their child.”
Harry was glowing. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”
“Show him the thing, Padfoot,” Remus said, hardly able to contain his excitement.
Sirius went to a tube of parchments and pulled out a roll with a hyper-realistic sketch of a snitch in flight.
“Your dad drew these sketches as practice,” Sirius said. “He painted Quidditch things on your wall, right over your crib before you were born.”
“Dad drew?” Harry peered at the picture, trying to picture his father at an easel, making the sketch, coloring it in with painstaking detail.
“He had an artistic streak a mile wide. That’s really what impressed your mum,” Sirius told him.
“Can we put them up? All of them? Right there over the bed?” Harry asked breathlessly.
“Of course, Prongslet,” Sirius said, a little misty eyed, casting the spells so that James Potter’s artwork was plastered onto his son’s bedroom wall, the way it was supposed to be all along.
Harry crossed the room and touched the signature his father had made on his sketches. He had lived, his hands had created something that Harry could see. He had signed them James Fleamont Potter, right there at the bottom.
“I didn’t know them at all,” he whispered in horror. “I don’t know a thing about them.”
Sirius put his arms around Harry. “It’s okay. That’s why you have us. We’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Harry was good at being on his most perfect behavior so that he could make his godfather love him. He hadn’t been old enough to understand what to do to not be a burden with his aunt and uncle. With Sirius he could start fresh. He would be loved if it killed him.
He made sure that his bed was made. He made his new guardians breakfast every morning and cleaned the kitchen afterwards. He did the laundry, and ironed, and helped the men unpack and set up their new home. The men thought he was being considerate for the first few days, but when his behavior, uncharacteristic of a thirteen-year-old boy persisted, they were worried.
One day over the breakfast that Harry had cooked Sirius broached the subject carefully.
"Where did you learn to cook like this?” He asked carefully choosing his words.
"Oh,” Harry said. “I used to cook for the Dursleys all the time.”
“All the time?” Remus asked, glancing at Sirius suspiciously. Harry took a bite of his perfectly fluffy eggs.
“Since I could reach the stove,” Harry said, as if that was normal. “I can’t even remember when I learned now. Must be years ago now.”
The men stared at each other; eyes wide.
“What about the laundry? Were you always just good at that too?”
Harry shrugged. “If I wanted my clothes cleaned, I had to do it myself. I’m just trying to take care of the house, you know. Help out.”
"We appreciate that so much, Harry,” Remus said. “But why don’t you take the day off today. See if Ron wants to go for a fly or something. You’ve done more than enough.”
“Oh. Thanks! I’ll call him,” Harry said, brightening up considerably.
Sirius wanted to curse, but instead he excused Remus and himself to the living room.
“Moony, they were working him like a bloody house-elf,” Sirius ran a hand through his hair and took some deep breaths. “They starved him, and they made him their goddamn servant. Lily and James’s son!”
“Sirius calm down. You’ll do the boy no favors like this,” Remus said, touching his lover’s arm. Sirius took a few deep breaths and looked at Remus with a pained expression.
“He was supposed to be the best loved kid in all the world. He was supposed to be just as spoiled as James. We were going to make sure of it. You and me and Peter—”
Sirius’s voice broke.
“He flinches,” Remus said quietly. “Every time either of us come into the room, or make a loud noise. He flinches from us.”
“We need to have a talk with him,” Sirius said.
“What did Mr. Potter say to you? When they took you in?” Remus asked.
Sirius shook his head. “I don’t remember,” he said hoarsely. “The details are hazy—after Azkaban— Everything good—” he looked at Remus terrified. He was terrified. He needed to find out how badly he had messed up that night way back in ’81. Azkaban suddenly felt well deserved.
“You taught him. Did he say anything? Were there signs we missed?” Sirius asked.
“No,” Remus said quietly. “I didn’t notice a damn thing. I assumed Lily’s sister—” he broke off. “I’m a fool.”
“He’s our kid now. He’s safe now,” Sirius repeated, trying to soothe himself.
"But does he know it?” Remus asked. They peeked into the kitchen, where Harry was washing his own dish.
“Oh Merlin,” Sirius whispered. “Do you think he thinks we would—”
Remus didn’t need to respond. He touched Sirius’s back gently and rubbed his shoulder. “We’ll be his James. We’ll make sure he’s okay.”
That afternoon, after Remus kicked Harry out of the kitchen and cooked lunch himself, Sirius took Harry out to the garage to work on the bike. Harry had learned quickly that the bike was his godfather’s most prized possession, but Remus had banned him from taking Harry on it for a joyride.
“Prongslet,” Sirius said quietly. “You’ve been cooking for a while, and taking care of yourself for a while. Did your aunt and uncle ever take care of you?”
“They must have right?” Harry said. “At some point.” He shrugged and picked up a wrench and handed it to his godfather. Sirius exhaled slowly. That was not a comforting answer to hear, and he didn’t want to dance around the subject any more.
“Harry did they hurt you?”
Harry’s eyes widened momentarily, and he tried so hard to force his breath to stay even, not betray his own pain. His sides still ached from being flung down the stairs so unceremoniously.
“You aren’t in any trouble, Harry, but I’d like to know if you’re in pain, if I can ease it.”
“My uncle… he pushed me,” Harry confessed, unable to meet Sirius’s pale eyes. “A few days ago. It’s healing.”
“Can I see?” he asked.
Harry nodded and lifted his t-shirt to reveal a mess of half healed bruises on his side.
“Oh Harry,” Sirius whispered. “That must hurt.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine. He just pushed me.”
“Into what?” Sirius muttered, examining the damage more closely. Sirius knew what marks of abuse looked like. He had worn them. He had hidden them. He had taken care of his brother when he started to wear them. Sirius could read the blue and purple layered over the green and yellow, he could read the shapes and splotches—a hand, a stick, the furniture.
“The… stairs,” Harry whispered.
“Alright,” Sirius said, setting the wrench down. “Let’s go inside. You’re in no condition.”
"I’m fine, Padfoot,” he insisted. “I want to—” But his godfather was firm, and when Sirius Black’s mind was made up, it was nearly impossible to unmake it.
“No,” Sirius said, ushering the kid inside and straight up to bed.
“I’ve been moving around just fine—”
“No.”
“Sirius I—”
“No, Pronslet,” Sirius said firmly. “Lie back.” He waved his wand over the kid and winced when the spell glowed red above him.
“I’m fi—”
“Harry,” Sirius said softly—but it was almost an angry quiet, like Sirius was holding himself back from saying what he wanted to say. “I’m going to get Moony and some ice. Don’t move.”
The man left the room, and Harry got up to chase him down. Harry followed him into the kitchen and burst through the door where Sirius was taking ice out of the freezer.
“I told you not to move,” Sirius said angrily.
“I’m not hurt that bad, Padfoot,” Harry insisted. He didn’t know why his green eyes watered.
“But you’re still hurt,” Sirius argued.
"Sirius, tone,” Remus warned. “Harry, come on. Back to bed with you.”
“No I swear it wasn’t even that bad, and I’m not that hurt and I could have handled it,” the kid insisted desperately. “I was just—”
“Don’t even go there, Harry.” Remus was quiet too. “I don’t want you to blame yourself.”
“I don’t,” Harry insisted, though he didn’t meet his new guardians’ eyes. “I’m okay now. Everything is good and fine and normal here. That’s all that matters, right?”
"All we want is for you to feel safe,” Sirius said quietly. “Do you feel safe?”
“What?” Harry asked.
“With Remus and me,” he clarified. “Do you feel safe with us, here, now?”
“I wasn’t even unsafe at the Dursley’s, Sirius. I just didn’t like it there,” Harry said.
The men glanced at each other, and Harry saw their wordless exchange, their confusion.
"I mean, yeah, okay, so Uncle Vernon and Dudley used to have a go at me all the time, but it wasn’t like… like the movies you know? They’d just knock me around a little, sometimes. I never needed to go to the hospital or anything,” Harry clarified.
Sirius shook his head. “They shouldn’t have done that to you, Harry. They shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”
“Hurt me? No they didn’t really hurt me,” Harry said. “They just punished me.”
“Punish—” Sirius sounded and felt faint. “That’s not punishment, Harry. That’s abuse.”
“It’s not!” Harry exclaimed desperately. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want such a harsh word attached to his former family—even if they were horrible, they were still his mum’s side. They were all he had left of her.
“Sirius is right, kid,” Remus said softly. “They shouldn’t have treated you that way.”
“They didn’t usually even hit me though. Not until the trial made Uncle Vernon extra stressed out,” Harry said. “Usually, they’d just shut me in the cupboard under the stairs.”
“They would shut you in the cupboard?” Sirius still sounded lightheaded. Everything James’s son told him about his childhood sounded like a nightmare replica of his own childhood. James would have never allowed his son to suffer that way. James couldn’t even have imagined his son suffering at all—he was too used to being loved and spoiled and pampered that he couldn’t even wrap his head around what happened with Sirius when he showed up at his door with painful marks on his skin
“It was my room,” Harry shrugged. “Kids get sent to their rooms all the time. Ron’s mum sends his brothers to their room every time they set something new on fire.”
“Yes, Harry. She sends them to their rooms. A cupboard and a room are not the same thing at all,” Remus said carefully.
Sirius ran his hand through his hair. “Merlin, where is James when you need him.”
“What would dad have managed to change? They’re just horrible people. They were going to be horrible regardless. I suppose if my dad had raised me it would be better, but I can’t spend every day just wishing him back from the grave.”
“Your dad…” Sirius trailed off. Harry was so used to his pain, and worse didn’t even know to think of it as pain, as a temporary darkness. He had never been able to find the light. He didn’t have a James.
“My family was like the Dursleys. Walburga and Orion Black invented the playbook that the Dursleys perfected. When I was a little older than you are now, I ran away from home. Your dad and your grandparents took me in.”
“Oh,” Harry said quietly. “They did? I had grandparents?”
“Everyone has grandparents,” Sirius said. “Yours were the best people, Harry.”
“What happened to them?”
“Dragon pox,” Remus said sadly. “It was before you were born, but it was peaceful, surrounded by family and friends.”
“Oh,” Harry said. He supposed old people would get sick and die, but he was sad not to get to know them.
“Harry, I understand, alright? I understand tough families,” Sirius offered. “When your grandparents took me in, I didn’t know how wrong it was of my parents to treat me that way.”
"Yeah, but they were your parents. These were not my parents,” Harry said. He wasn’t wrong, but he had also never been more wrong.
“Just because James and Lily died, doesn’t make it okay for anyone to treat a kid like that,” Remus said angrily. “Come on, go lie down.”
“Moony, I want to work on the bike,” Harry insisted. “I’m fine, really. I’m always like this.”
“You’re just like your father and your godfather. Now take this ice, put it on that bruising, and rest. The bike isn’t going anywhere. It doesn’t even work.” Remus said, gently ushering him back to his room.
“Can I call Ron?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, call Ron. See if he wants to keep you company while you rest,” Remus instructed.
Harry was hardly out of earshot before Sirius broke down.
He had known Harry as a baby. He had held the door open when Lily and James brought him home, in the car seat that James was carrying. James was trembling with excitement. Lily held her breath while transferring her son from the car seat to his crib, terrified to wake him. He had stayed that first week, helping the new parents with the baby, learning to comfort him right alongside them.
Lily had braided his hair back when Harry learned to grab at it. He and James had taught him to fly on a toy broomstick just months after he got good at walking around on his chubby little legs. He and Remus had babysat him together all the time, pretending to be a married couple, pretending they were starting their own little family.
Harry had known a year of love in his life. Just one single year before that home had been destroyed, his doting parents had been ripped from him, his loving godfather been slapped with a life sentence with no trial, his darling Uncle Moony had been prisoner with a pack of werewolves, a mission gone sideways, for months before he made his escape and by then it was too late.
The happiest year of Harry’s life was over.
The kid had accepted that he couldn’t wish his parents back, that he was an outsider in his own home, that he wouldn’t have any of his needs met, and he had hardened his heart. He had learned to protect himself.
“Sirius—”
“Not Harry, Remus. Not Harry. I’d… I’d go through it all again myself at Grimmauld Place if Harry would be saved from it,” Sirius was having trouble speaking through his tears. Remus didn’t know any words to comfort him. He wrapped his lover in a strong embrace and let him cry it out on his shoulder.
“He needs James. We aren’t James,” Sirius said, trying to get a grip.
“All that matters, the only thing that matters, is that we love him, and he knows it,” Remus said, rubbing Sirius’s arms.
“Let’s go check on him. Think of some good stories to tell him. We’ll go through the photos.” Remus instructed. “I’ve always wanted to show him those.”
Sirius washed his face, trying to be brave for his godson, but his courage faltered. To be there for Harry would mean facing everything that had been done to him in his own childhood—without James.
“Harry?” Sirius asked quietly, poking his head into the kid’s room. He winced and tried to sit up.
“Stay down,” Sirius instructed.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said.
“What on earth for?” Sirius pulled up a chair near Harry and sat down.
“I lied to your lawyer,” Harry said. “Hermione told me not to but I did.”
“It’s done. The case is won. It doesn’t matter,” Sirius said.
Harry sighed heavily. “I really don’t hurt bad enough to be on bed rest, Sirius.”
Sirius pressed his lips together in a thin line and nodded. “You’re a tough kid. You probably don’t. Moony and I though? We love you. We want to feel like we’ve done something to take care of you. Even if we're a little late.”
“But I’m alright. You don’t need to go to all this trouble for me.”
“It’s not trouble, Harry. We love you.”
Harry chewed on his lip a moment. “How do you know?”
“That we love you?” Sirius clarified. Harry nodded slightly. “Oh, you’re killing me, kid.”
Sirius took Harry’s hand in both of his. It was still a little smaller than a grown man’s but only just. He would be shooting up like a weed soon.
“We have always loved you, Harry. Did Moony tell you about the day you were born?”
“No.”
“Well alright. It’s about time you learned that your parents weren’t cool.”
“What?” Harry said. “You’re the one who keeps saying—”
Sirius chuckled fondly. “I mean, I adore them. They were amazing people. They were even better parents. But we were only twenty-one when you were born Harry. Lily used to baby sit when she was younger, and I had a younger brother, and that was it. Our collective child rearing experience.”
“God I was screwed,” Harry said and Sirius barked with laughter.
“James said the same thing. He bought every single parenting book he could find. Read them too. Made notes, made Lily quiz him. Remus and I lived across the hall from your folks in this little building in muggle London. And late late late at night, July thirty nineteen-eighty, Lily went into labor. James was out on Order business, I cannot for the life of me remember what it was Dumbledore wanted. He was supposed to be on paternity leave anyway, so Lily was already a bit cross.”
“Dad missed my birth?” Harry burst out.
“Patience, Elvendork,” Sirius tapped Harry’s nose with his forefinger, making him blink.
“Elvendork?”
“At this point in the story, that was supposed to be your name,” Sirius told him.
“No, you’re lying. Mum and Dad would not have named me Elvendork,” Harry protested. He liked his nice, plain, boring name a lot more now that he knew that Elvendork was on the table.
Remus slipped into the room. “Oh, that name is coming up, is it? Are you telling him about the time you and James almost got arrested by those muggle police?”
“What?” Harry gasped. “You told me dad was Head Boy!”
“Of course I did!” Remus laughed. “I was your professor. If I told you half the things James did, well. James certainly would have wanted to try it, and I am starting to be fairly certain that you would too. I lied to make my job easier.”
“Wow. Betrayal on all fronts today. I was supposed to be named Elvendork? You and Dad almost got arrested? Dad wasn’t Head Boy?”
“No no no, my dear,” Remus said with a smile. “Sirius and your Dad were arrested and Lily and I had to go bail them out. James was Head Boy, but he was not one great at following school rules, a bit like his son.”
“I don’t—” Harry began to protest.
“We can discuss Hogsmeade later,” Remus said sternly. “The one-eyed witch? I discovered that passageway young man.”
Harry blushed. “Sorry Moony.”
“Anyway, Sirius, do go on. I love this story.” His eyes crinkled around the corners.
“Right. Well, Elvendork,” Harry made a face that made Remus laugh. “Lily started going into labor, and that sweet woman just picked up her hospital bag and the car keys and knocked on our door.” Sirius knocked daintily on the bedframe, very pleased with his captive audience. “And she said, ‘Black, you’re driving. Lupin, go find my bloody husband.’ And he handed me her car keys, and I was just standing there thinking about how many car accidents there are on the streets of London.”
Remus threw his head back laughing. “I remember I did not understand why she needed me to find her husband, because it was three in the morning and I was not awake so I—”
“I’m telling the story!” Sirius whined.
“Okay fine,” Remus said. “Tell it right then.”
“Anyways,” Sirius said pointedly. “I was thinking about street safety, and I was the fastest driver in our group, but I was not the safest. Lily was the safest driver, but of course, we couldn’t let her take herself to the hospital, but if I was behind the wheel, there was no guarantee would make it. SO here we were, two fully competent wizards, staring at her. He was trying to remember who on earth her husband was, I was trying to remember how to drive a car, and then of course, Lily was in labor, holding her own bag. James would have murdered me for letting her do that. He was so protective of you both.”
Harry smiled sadly. He knew that. His dad had died trying to give his wife and son a chance to live. He couldn’t imagine the man being any less protective under any other circumstances.
“And Lily, our darling, she looks at us like we are idiots, because of course, we were being idiots. She says, ‘Black, Lupin. Hospital, Husband.’ Which of course, Remus interprets as James is in the hospital and he panics. And Lily screams, because I hear labor is painful, which makes Remus panic more, and he apparates off to St. Mungos to search for James.”
“I was trying really hard, it was only a few nights after the moon, and it was just a mess.” Remus was grinning from ear to ear.
“So, Lily just shakes her head so disappointed and I come back to my senses after that chaos and we start driving to the muggle hospital so painfully slow that she starts yelling at me.” Sirius managed to sound miffed at being yelled at by a woman in labor thirteen years ago.
“And I couldn’t remember any of the information Lily and James made both of us memorize to fill out her paperwork, and I couldn’t remember anything that I knew about the muggle world and I had no muggle money on me, but somehow we got Lily checked into a room, and the nurses thought I was her husband, which made her laugh to hard it made her contractions come faster, and Remus was struggling to piece together that James was not in Mungo’s, but rather on a mission he had to go interrupt, which was a little dangerous. Meanwhile we all knew that James wanted you to be named Elvendork, because he thought it was funny, and Lily had to let him have a piece of her mind and threaten a divorce before you came along and he filled out the birth certificate so time truly was of the essence.”
Harry was nearing stitches and Remus was smiling.
“And… well go on Moony, tell us where and how you found Prongs Sr.”
Remus laughed “Ah, well, James was a very professional Auror, you know. Brilliant man. Cool in a crisis, quick on the uptake.”
“He was in training and second to me in our class, more like,” Sirius drawled.
“Yes, well, I find him out in a forest keeping watch over a property that known Death Eaters had been lurking around with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody. And I tell him that his wife is in labor, and the poor thing is so sleep deprived that he just does not register why Kingsley and Mad-Eye are congratulating him, but of course he accepts it and then sits back down and tries to go to sleep. Luckily Kingsley had some pepper-up potion for him, because he would be useless to everyone in his state.” Remus smiled at the memory.
“Your father believed in the cause, Harry. He fought not out of hate for the wrong that the Death Eaters were doing, but out of love for his muggleborn wife, his half-blood son, his werewolf friend. He fought and struggled and sacrificed for his love. That’s what made him special.”
Remus needed Harry to know that. He needed Harry to understand that his father was a good and loving man. James would have never been able to stomach how Harry had been treated by his aunt and uncle. The kid smiled softly, that same smile that they had seen James make a million times a lifetime ago. Happier days.
“James, when he realized what I was saying to him of course, he went so pale. You’d think he had seen a ghost. And then he took off running towards the general direction of the hospital. He was sprinting. I had to chase him down and side along him to Lily. And then of course, the doctors kicked both of us out of the room because we weren’t technically your father, and we weren’t technically married to Lily, but honestly she knew that when she married your father, the two of us came with him. Sort of a package deal.”
Harry laughed out loud, trying to picture his mother rolling her eyes at his Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot at her wedding, both of them trying to claim to be married to her now.
Sirius brushed Harry’s cheek and took a breath that shook under the weight of his emotion.
“And then you were born. Remus and I wore a hole in the floor of the waiting room pacing for hours. When they let us see you, Lily was holding you, and James was holding Lily. She asked us if we wanted to hold you, and Remus was so scared to hurt you, he refused to hold you until you could support your own head.”
“Children are far too fragile. I couldn’t risk it.”
“I held you,” Sirius said quietly. “You were so tiny. You were so pink.”
“Pink?”
“Pink. Fresh babies are always pink.” Sirius shook his head sadly. “I was holding you for the first time when your mother asked if I wanted to be your godfather.”
“He cried.”
“You cried too. So did James. Lily was quite fed up with all of us, because of course she was the one who had actually given birth, and grown a baby inside her body for nine months and we were just… weeping. What can I say? We knew you were going to be an amazing kid. We were so excited to be your family.”
“Was Pettigrew—” Harry broke off. “Was he there?”
“In the morning. Before he headed off to work at the ministry. He brought Lily flowers and chocolates and balloons. He brought James a box of cigars. He held you for a bit, and then went off to work.”
“And you didn’t know?”
“It was the last thing we expected. We trusted him with your life.” Sirius sighed heavily.
“Oh,” Harry said softly. That was really all there was to say. Nothing could change the hurt that they were feeling.
“I think I hate him,” Harry said softly. “More than Voldemort.”
Remus nodded, understanding. If anyone else heard that, he would have sounded crazy. But no. They were the people Pettigrew had hurt the most. Left Remus alone for twelve years. Subject an innocent man to imprisonment and mental torture. Orphaned an innocent child and sent him off to live with abusive family.
Sirius put his arm around the kid, and Remus pressed closer to the too, just to feel like they had a family. “We found each other again. That means we won. In the end.”