No More Than a Means

PART TWO

“Harry. Wake up.”

Harry felt his body being shaken, but he felt far too lethargic to respond to any order that actually involved him opening his eyes or, worse still, having to admit to being awake in the first place. Maybe if he pretended to still be fully asleep long enough, the annoying voice would leave him alone.

“Harry, we’re nearly there. You have to get up.”

Nearly where? Harry groaned and forced his eyelids to separate.

“There’s a boy. You have to get up. They can’t see me, so you have to be able to move on your own.”

Harry squinted at the source of the voice. Yes, he’d seen that man before. He’d been the one to catch Harry when he fell. Ah, now he remembered what had happened. There had been Dementors. Considering that he wasn’t dead or at the very least seriously deficient in the soul department, Harry decided the practically-skeletal man must have saved him.

“I know you,” he said simply. That thought didn’t quite get his whole point across, but right then he couldn’t seem to articulate himself well enough to be bothered trying again.

The man’s face suddenly became fearful. “I’m not who you think I am!”

Harry frowned. “To be honest, I don’t have a clue who you are, apart from that I remember that you saved my life. And I’m pretty sure you’re actually a dog, which is weird. Should I know anything more than that?”

The man suddenly seemed both calmer and incredibly embarrassed. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Er … no. Of course not. Well then, this really isn’t what it looks like!”

Harry snorted, too tired to actually gather up any feeling of actual anger. “Oh, so I haven’t had some complete stranger – some scruffy stranger, at that – masquerading as a dog and following me all over the country, not to mention sleeping in my bed with me?”

“Well … you know, when you put it that way …”

Harry suddenly sat up with a jolt. “Merlin, you saw me naked. You couldn’t have said something?”

The older man looked at once both amused and uncomfortable. “Uh, no, not really. I was a dog. It may have escaped your notice, but dogs don’t actually talk.”

Harry grunted. “Well, you could have left the room. Or turned away, at least. It’s just good manners, really.”

The man actually had the hide to grin, which annoyed Harry a little. “I didn’t want to disturb you. Besides, it wasn’t a bad view.”

Harry groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. “Thanks. I think I’m scarred for life now. You’re something like double my age.”

“Yeah,” the man shrugged, “but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Harry frowned at him. “Who are you anyway?”

“For now, all I can tell you is that I’m a friend. You’ll have to trust me. Now, I need to put the cloak back on so the guards don’t see me when I get off the boat. We can talk more when we get back to Grimmauld Place.”

As the man disappeared under the invisibility cloak, Harry grumbled, “You’re lucky you saved my life back there, otherwise I wouldn’t be anything like this compliant. And don’t think you’re off the hook either. I still want to know what the heck is going on.”

“Once we’re alone again,” the man promised from under the cloak. “Now be quiet. We’re about to reach the dock.”

“Thinks he can order me around …” Harry muttered, but then fell silent as he’d been asked.

As soon as he was back on solid ground, Harry stormed off without saying anything to the two men waiting there. It would probably have been more impressive if he wasn’t paler than any ghost and shaking so badly he couldn’t seem to walk straight.

He Apparated back to the alley on Grimmauld Place and walked to the house, trusting the Animagus, or whatever he was, could find his own way back. He waited at the door. The fact that it suddenly sprung open seemed to signal the man’s arrival, he supposed, since it had always been the dog who unlocked the door. Harry followed the invisible figure inside.

As Harry shut the door, the man took off the cloak and hung it off the cloak rack near the door. Harry spun around to face him, an accusatory glare on his face.

“Are you Regulus Black?”

The man looked surprised, and for a moment Harry actually thought his guess had been right.

“Of course not!” The man seemed vaguely offended at the suggestion. However, he then appeared to reconsider this reaction and think better of it. “Well, I suppose you aren’t that far off. I am a Black, as I’m sure you must have figured out from the fact that I’m keyed into the door of the house. I’m the Black these days, if you like, since I actually own this dump now. I’m head of the Merlin-forsaken family.” The man laughed at this. “My parents would roll over in their graves. I suppose something good had to come out of it.”

Harry’s brain may have been working slowly after fainting because of the Dementors, but he could add two and two. He went to draw his wand, only to find it not in his pocket. Black seemed to realise what Harry was looking for, because he withdrew Harry’s wand from his own pocket. Harry snatched at it, but Black yanked it away so that he couldn’t reach it.

“I don’t think now is the best time to give this back, Harry. You look a bit too angry at the moment.”

Harry’s eyes flashed with anger. “A bit angry? I’m furious! I know who you are now! You’re Sirius Black!”

The man’s almost gentle smile fell into a flat line. “Ah. So you have heard of me. I’m sorry, Harry. I had rather hoped I might get my side of the story across before you –”

“‘Your side’?” Harry asked incredulously. He growled at Black. “There is no ‘your side’! You betrayed my parents!”

Harry physically leapt at Black. They wrestled on the floor and Harry got in a few good punches, but Black managed to keep Harry’s wand out of his reach. Eventually, Black pinned Harry under him. Even as thin as he was, he still outweighed Harry, and the younger man couldn’t dislodge him. Years of Quidditch training suddenly seemed absolutely useless; he didn’t even half enough muscle built up to defend himself against a half-dead middle-aged Death Eater.

He squirmed underneath Black just a little too hard, and instead of throwing Black’s body off him, Harry’s own body reacted quite inappropriately, given the situation. He would be surprised if Black hadn’t noticed it, but the older man said nothing, so Harry had to assume that he was ignorant as to the hardness pressing into his leg. It occurred to Harry for the first time that he was in a prime position for the Death Eater above him to take advantage of him. Instead of prompting him to feel fear, that thought only made Harry angry.

“Harry, just listen –”

“Stop saying my name!” Harry screamed at him. “You don’t even deserve to be alive!”

Black blinked in shock. Harry thought that he looked almost heartbroken. But of course, Sirius Black had betrayed Harry’s parents, and was a Death Eater, so he didn’t have a heart, Harry reminded himself. It must have been a trick of the light.

“I didn’t betray your parents,” Black refuted quietly.

“You did!” Harry argued. “The guy in prison said so, and so did Remus! You –”

“Remus is still alive?” Black asked desperately. The tone of his voice made Harry snap his jaw shut unconsciously. “Is he all right?”

Harry regarded the man who was still trapping him against the ground. Either he was an exceptional actor or he was actually really concerned about Remus. Of course, he’d fooled Harry’s parents into trusting him with their lives, so his acting skills probably weren’t all that meagre.

“He’s fine. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, thank Merlin. That’s something.” Black closed his eyes as if to blink back tears. “You and he are all I have left.”

“And whose fault is that?” Harry shot back, trying once more to buck Black off him, to no avail.

Black’s face seemed to shadow over. “It’s mine. I admit that. If not for me … But Harry, it was Peter Pettigrew who actually betrayed your parents, not me! I swear I didn’t give your parents to Voldemort.”

Harry abruptly stopped struggling. “Who’s Peter Pettigrew?”

Black exhaled. “He was our friend as well. James was going to have me be his Secret Keeper, under the Fidelius Charm, but I persuaded him at the last minute that Peter would be a better choice. I thought Voldemort would never suspect him. He wasn’t the strongest of people, really. We should have suspected that he was the traitor for the very same reason. By the time it came out, it was too late. He’d betrayed your parents, and they were dead. I tracked him down and killed him in revenge. That’s the crime they officially imprisoned me for, not for being a Death Eater or betraying your parents. They could never prove I did that, because I didn’t.”

Harry shook his head. “But you can’t prove that you didn’t do it, either. It’s a bit convenient that you’re the only one still alive who knew that you swapped, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell Remus?”

Black looked extremely miserable at the mention of it. “We suspected him. I’ve regretted not trusting him ever since then. It was stupid. We didn’t think it through. It was just … he was spending so much time with those other werewolves, supposedly for the Order, but we just weren’t sure. It felt like we barely knew him anymore. It wasn’t a good time, back then. No one was sure who they could trust.”

Harry might have been a bit slow on the uptake, but eventually his eyes did widen as he processed what had just been said. “Werewolves? What do you mean other werewolves?”

Black’s mouth opened in surprise, but no words came out.

“Remus is a werewolf?” Harry asked quietly. “Merlin, why doesn’t anyone ever tell me anything? Do I have a ‘do not tell him important details’ sign pasted on my forehead along with the bloody great scar?”

“I thought you must have known,” Black choked out. “Do you mean he told you about me but not about himself?”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as he’d always seen Uncle Vernon do to stop headaches. He could feel the mother of all migraines coming on.

“He didn’t tell me the whole story. I kind of pieced what he said together with what I’d heard other people say. He didn’t want me to know any of it.”

Black looked devastated. “Oh, Merlin. I’ve never given his secret away to anyone. Well, not since Snape, at least … Harry, you can’t judge him by that. He’s always careful on the full moon, and the rest of the time he’s one of the best and kindest men you’ll ever meet, really.”

Harry sighed in annoyance. “Why do you care what I think of him?”

“I told you; you’re both all I have in the world.”

“How can I ever trust you? You pretended to be just a dog. You could have saved us all this by changing back to being human straight away and explaining this all to me before I heard the other side of the story elsewhere.”

Black shook his head. “I couldn’t. I was under Imperius for a long time. Voldemort thought your locket was in my house, I think, because that’s where he thought Regulus would leave it. He needed me to take you to the house and let you in; otherwise he couldn’t get to it.”

“Why couldn’t he just order you to take him or one of his Death Eaters there?”

Black smiled. “I’m not completely incompetent at breaking the Imperius Curse. If the order goes against what I would normally want, then I can generally defy it. However, the order of the Imperius was to help you get what you wanted. That’s what I wanted as well. As your godfather, it’s my duty.”

“You’re my godfather?” Harry asked, wide-eyed once more.

“Yes,” Black said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your childhood. If I could actually control my temper, I could have gone to Dumbledore and told him about Peter instead of running off and killing the little rat. You’re right, you know. There’s no way now to clear myself other than Veritaserum, and the Wizengamot doesn’t allow its use in trials. Even if they did, I’d still be sent right back to prison. That’s the worst part; I’m guilty of the murder I was locked up for. I killed Peter.”

“But if what you’re saying is true,” Harry began reasonably, realising even as he said it that he was indeed starting to believe it was true, “then you only killed a Death Eater, the man who betrayed my parents.”

Black shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no onlys in murder. He may have been a Death Eater in name, but as far as anyone knows, he never did more than tell Voldemort where the Potters – you and your parents – were. That’s not a crime, immoral though it may be. The fact that the person you kill is not a good person isn’t a defence to murder.”

Harry looked pointedly away. A sinking feeling had decided to fill his chest rather abruptly. “Am I going to have to go to Azkaban even if I outlive Voldemort, then? I thought it was just a choice of kill or be killed. Is it really a choice of kill and be imprisoned for life or be killed? Because I’d prefer not to die a murderer locked up and left to the mercy of the Dementors, if that’s the case.”

Black’s dark eyes, which had seemed half-mad until that very moment, seemed to soften. Where seconds ago he’d been still holding Harry down, suddenly he was simply holding Harry.

“Oh, no, Harry. Of course not. When you rid the world of that bastard, that’s going to be self-defence. You’ll be a hero, not a criminal.”

Harry was stunned that he wasn’t pushing the other man away. He was even more stunned to find that he was allowing tears to run down his face while Black held him.

“I’ve already killed a man,” Harry whispered. “When I was eleven. That was self-defence too, and I didn’t even realise I was killing him. I lost consciousness before he died, so I don’t really remember it. He was my teacher. He was also being possessed by Voldemort.”

“That’s not your fault either,” Black reassured him.

Harry wasn’t finished, though. “I was responsible for the death of a boy I went to school with as well. And it’s my fault Dumbledore’s dead. And my parents …”

Black suddenly let go of him. “If I ever hear you say that it’s your fault James and Lily are dead …”

Harry bit his lip. “If it wasn’t for me …”

“If it wasn’t for Voldemort, you mean. You wouldn’t be in any danger if not for him. It’s his fault, not yours. He killed them.”

Harry suddenly started laughing. “I wanted to kill you. I’m still not sure that I shouldn’t. Like you said, you’re a murderer, and I’ll never know for sure that you weren’t responsible for my parents’ deaths.”

“Can you trust me?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Merlin, I’ll try. But how can I … I can’t just accept that you’re completely innocent, just like that.”

Black seemed suddenly hopeful, though. “Can you at least give me the opportunity to prove to you that I’m trustworthy?”

Harry hesitated, but eventually he nodded.

Black smiled, and his wizened face suddenly seemed so much younger that Harry thought he’d just received a glimpse of what Black must have looked like when he was Harry’s age. He must have been incredibly handsome before Azkaban ruined him.

“Can I let you up now?” Black asked. Harry was surprised to hear the hint of a teasing tone in his voice.

Harry nodded. “Yes, please. I think my legs are going numb.”

Luckily that also meant that other parts of Harry’s anatomy had gone limp. It would have been highly embarrassing to have Black know that Harry had gotten an erection because of him. He was old. He looked half-dead. And besides, he was apparently Harry’s godfather, which made that sort of thing more than just a bit bizarre.

Harry flushed bright red. Sirius pretended he didn’t know why his godson’s face was suddenly on fire.

* * * * * * * * * *

Black had fallen asleep in his old room, while Harry worked on transfiguring the shield back into a cup. It was hard work. Transfiguration had never been Harry’s strong suit. However, he felt fairly certain that the continuation of his life could work as adequate motivation to do a good job. After all, without the cup being in cup form, the mirror couldn’t put the locket inside the cup, and Harry couldn’t return both cup and locket to Malfoy within a week of saying he would. Since Harry really didn’t particularly want to die if he had a choice in the matter, he’d resigned himself to spending as much time as necessary on the cup.

When Black finally emerged from his nap, he looked bleary eyed and still half asleep. Harry thought it might have been cute if the man didn’t look so emaciated and … well, unwashed.

“I don’t think all that time under Imperius did me any good,” he admitted. “I feel like I’ve been half asleep for years. In fact, this still feels like a dream. Am I dreaming?”

Harry grinned, “I don’t know. You look reasonably awake to me. Maybe you’re just delusional.”

Black glared at him, but Harry knew instinctively that the jibe had been taken as good-natured, as it was intended.

“Some godson you are. You’re supposed to be nice to your poor godfather.”

Harry smirked. “You wish.” Then his grin died. “Are you sure you aren’t still under the Imperius Curse?”

“Very,” Black replied deprecatingly. “It’s not that hard to tell you’re out of its influence once you break it. I broke it when we returned to Grimmauld Place. You told me to leave you alone at some stage, and that really wasn’t what I wanted to do at all. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to stick pretty close to you.”

Harry nodded acceptingly. “I don’t even think I knew what I wanted at the time.”

Black grinned. “Potters seem to have a history of that problem, if your father was anything to go by.”

Harry bit his lip. “I wish that I had time to just sit down and hear stories about my parents. All anyone ever told me was that they were good people, and how much I look like my father. And that I have my mother’s eyes, of course. But I never hear what they got up to when they were my age, or how they met, or anything at all that would give me a single clue what they were actually like. And now that I have someone who could tell me about them, I’m stuck trying to transfigure something Voldemort put spells on with a time limit constantly threatening me. It’s not like having the threat of imminent death hanging over my head is really helping matters, either.”

Black gave the shield a scrutinising look. “You know, I was quite good at Transfiguration back in the day. Maybe I could give you a hand?”

Harry snorted. “No offence, I’m sure you were great, but it’s been a decade and a half since you’ve done any real magic, and you don’t even have your own wand. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d forgotten even the theory behind this kind of Transfiguration, let alone lost the practical ability. If I’d had those Dementors feasting on my memories for fifteen years, I think the things I’d learned at Hogwarts would be long gone.”

Black scowled. “I managed a corporeal Patronus strong enough to clear a hall full of Dementors. That’s pretty powerful magic, I should think.”

Harry bit his lip. “You’re right. And I would have had my soul sucked out if you hadn’t been there. I never even thanked you for saving me.”

Black’s eyes seemed to soften. “And you’ll never have to. I’m your godfather, Harry, and I was your Dad’s best friend. It’s my job to look after you. You don’t need to thank me for it.”

“I do when I attacked you and wanted to kill you afterwards. That wasn’t a particularly good way to thank you, as those things go.”

Black shrugged. “I suppose not. It could have gone worse, though. You could have succeeded in finishing me off, and then where would we be?”

Black sounded indifferent as he said it, but the words struck a chord in Harry.

“Oh Merlin, what if I had? I could have killed you if I’d had my wand. I would have. Then I’d never have been able to hear your side. Or worse, I might have found out later. I’d have felt so guilty I could have murdered you!”

Harry was abruptly pulled into a hug. Black ran his hand comfortingly up and down Harry’s back as he said. “Relax. You didn’t. And even if you had, you would have been well within your rights to do it. I’m a murderer myself, remember, and you thought that I’d gotten your parents killed on top of that. I would definitely have been feeling a bit homicidal if I was in your position.”

“It’s not all right, though,” Harry said quietly, his voice muffled due to his face being nearly buried in Black’s threadbare robes. “I’d still have killed you. Just like I’ll still be killing Voldemort if I succeed. Nothing’s going to change that. It doesn’t matter what you or anyone else says. I’ll either be a murderer, or I’ll be dead. Some choice.”

“I wish you didn’t have to make it,” Black replied, wisely choosing not to contest Harry’s claim again.

“I wish I could stay here forever, never having to worry about what’s going on out there in the real world.” Harry withdrew his face from Black’s front and glanced at the row of house elf heads that hung above them. “Well, maybe not here, exactly. This house is more than a little morbid.”

Black grinned. “You’ve got that right. When this is all over, I’m burning the place to the ground. You just see if you can stop me.”

Harry grinned back. “I wouldn’t try to. Especially if it made you happy.”

Black’s eyes seemed to shine strangely. “You would never have caught your father saying something that sentimental and … well … caring. Not that he didn’t care about me. It just makes for a nice change to spend time with someone who isn’t too cool to say what they’re thinking.”

“Everyone always says how like my Dad I am, though,” Harry said, his eyebrows furrowing.

Black narrowed his eyes as if in thought. “Well, you are, but you aren’t as well. When I look at you, sometimes I see James and Lily in you, but then sometimes I forget that you’re James’ son and my godson and I just see a young man. I get so confused these days, though. I guess my mind hasn’t been as sharp as when I was your age since the Dementors took a liking to it.”

Harry shuddered. Fifteen years … It was a wonder Black had survived at all, let alone with only a reasonably small amount of confusion every so often to show for it.

“You’ll never have to go back to Azkaban again, though,” Harry reminded him. For the first time, nearly a day after he’d first found out the man’s real identity, he realised that he truly no longer had any doubt about Black’s innocence. This, of course, meant that he had an actual godfather. He had family. It made him feel warm inside.

Sirius smirked, but there seemed to be some trace of sadness lying behind that look. “No. No, I don’t think I will. I’d die first.”

Harry’s heart sank a little. Not while I still have a say you won’t, he thought to himself.

“Well then,” he said, false cheerfulness infusing his tone, “we’ll just have to make sure that the Ministry doesn’t catch up with you, won’t we?”

This time Black’s sneer seemed completely genuine. “Not likely. The Ministry’s nothing but petty bureaucrats who couldn’t find their own arses unless they were handed to them on a silver platter. They probably don’t even know I’m gone yet.”

Harry sat bolt upright. “No, they don’t! I haven’t told anyone about that guy who they replaced you with. I just left him there!”

Harry would have bolted for the Floo right then, but Black stopped him. “The Floo isn't connected, and there aren’t any owls here at the moment. My parents were reclusive and suspicious prats. Outside communication was evil, as far as they were concerned. So you’ll just have to wait a while.

“Besides, that boy’s already spent a reasonable amount of time in there. He’ll survive another few hours while you transfigure your shield. Saving your life is even more important than saving him from time in the presence of those soul-suckers.”

Harry nodded regretfully. “I suppose so.” He glared down at the shield, which still looked almost as much like a shield as it had when he’d started attempting to change it back into a cup, though a mutated kind of handle had sprung out from one side. “This is going to take forever though,” he moaned, his frustration turning his voice bitter. “If only they focused on how to restore things other people have transfigured at Hogwarts, this might be a little easier. How am I meant to break a transfiguration performed by Voldemort, for crying out loud?”

Black frowned a little. “They did cover that in my day actually. In the NEWT level class. I think it was in seventh year.”

Harry scowled. “Fat lot of good that does me. I haven’t done my seventh year yet, have I? I probably never will now. Even if Hogwarts doesn’t close with Dumbledore gone, I don’t think I really belong there anymore.”

“I have done my seventh year, though, remember?” Black gave Harry a reproachful look. “Regardless of what you might think, Azkaban didn’t leave me completely brain-dead. I can still give you a bit of help in performing the reversal, if nothing else.”

Harry nodded slightly. Really, what choice did he have?

* * * * * * * * * *

It took them about two hours to make the cup look like a cup, and even then it took another half an hour or more for Black – Sirius, Harry reminded himself, his godfather had told him repeatedly while they worked together to call him Sirius – to help Harry make it look exactly like it should, based on the picture of Hufflepuff’s cup that Harry was carrying and what he’d seen of it in the mirror. At the end of all that, the cup was ready to go Hogwarts to retrieve its fellow Horcrux. Harry, on the other hand, was less eager.

Once he got the locket, he would only have two hours to get out of the school, out past the anti-Apparition line and into the cave to give the Death Eater on duty both the locket and the cup. Anything could happen in two hours. There could be all sorts of delays. Hell, he could freeze up and forget how to Apparate, for all he knew, and then he’d be as good as dead, because there couldn’t possibly be any other way to get there – there being the middle of nowhere (Harry wasn’t really entirely certain of its location in the first place) – in less than two hours.

He could be dead in less than a day. In a couple of hours.

He wasn’t ready for this.

He couldn’t tell Black – Sirius – what was bothering him until it was all over though, because he definitely wasn’t ready to drop dead where he stood for no reason. That would be one good thing about getting this all over, of course; Harry wouldn’t have to worry any longer that his tongue would slip and he’d be executed by accident by his own Vow. As it was, the constant presence of the Vow seemed to put pressure on him. Every time he thought about it, it was suddenly hard to breath. It wasn’t a good feeling at all. He’d certainly be glad to see the back of it.

“I think I need a minute,” Harry muttered to Sirius and walked out the door into the next room without glancing at the older man. He needed to get away. Merlin, he needed some time to himself, when he didn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances. He … he needed to hyperventilate, actually, judging by the shortness of his breath. He was having a panic attack. It would have been funny if everything wasn’t so deathly serious.

“It’ll be over soon,” Sirius said quietly from behind him.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Harry replied as evenly as he could manage, without turning around.

“You don’t have to be afraid. You’ve gotten yourself through situations like this before, I hear, and you’ve yet to permanently damage yourself.”

Harry snorted, turning around to look at Black. “Not where you can see it, no. I’m not exactly well-adjusted, though, am I?”

Sirius smirked back at him. “Probably not. But then, I wasn’t well-adjusted even before I went to Azkaban. Nor was your father, really. But that’s what made life interesting. If you were different, you wouldn’t be Harry Potter, and it would seem that a lot of people like you just the way you are, so you can’t have turned out too bad.”

“I think they really like me kind of in spite of everything, though.” Harry smiled, though it was at least partly forced. His face quickly fell back into its anxious set. “I wish I didn’t think about this. It’s not even the most danger I’ve been in. I think the problem is that I know exactly what I’m getting into this time. It’s easier to be brave when you don’t know hours before the action even starts that you might not come out of it alive.”

“Right. Well, the Gryffindor motto is ‘Where necessary, dive headfirst into murky water’. It doesn’t exactly specify what you should do when you can see the bottom.”

Harry looked at his godfather askance. “It’s not really that, is it?”

Sirius shrugged. “It could be. I was brought up in a long line of psychotic Slytherins, remember? My parents weren’t exactly big on the Gryffindor house history. I do know that the Slytherin motto is ‘By patience, or by whatever means necessary, we shall conquer’. That always gave me a laugh. Most Slytherins I’ve met aren’t exactly the most patient people. Nor the brightest, really, but that’s another story entirely.”

Harry laughed. “Thanks. I can’t believe you actually know the Slytherin motto.”

“My parents drilled it into me. They pretty much disowned me when I was sorted into the lion cage rather than the snake pit.”

“They sound like Death Eaters,” Harry mused. “I can’t believe you were raised by them. Are you sure you really aren’t a Death Eater in disguise?”

It was meant to be a joke, but Sirius’ face suddenly went entirely expressionless. He reached down and jerked his sleeve up, brandishing his unmarked arm at Harry.

“I swear to you that I’m not. Please, Harry, believe me. I never would have done anything like what my parents or even my brother did.”

“That’s …” Harry trailed off, his expression pained. “I was joking. Sirius, you don’t have to prove yourself to me. I trust you.”

It was as if a light switched on behind the convict’s eyes. Harry wondered if he’d so obviously craved support when he’d first entered into the wizarding world, having never received it at the Dursleys. It was a humbling thought.

He didn’t have much time to consider it, though, for Sirius had practically thrown himself at Harry, winding him and effectively taking his mind off anything that had previously been filling it.

He’d had parental hugs before. Mrs Weasley always seemed intent on giving them to him every time he visited. He’d also had friendly hugs from Hermione and even Ron, though Merlin knew Ron wasn’t exactly touchy-feely. Sirius’ arms around him felt different to all those that came before it. Although, strangely, if Harry had to compare it to any of the physical touches he’d ever had, for some reason his encounters with Ginny came to mind. It was rather a good thing he’d never gotten very much farther than cuddling and a bit of kissing with Ginny, Harry felt, because that would have made that thought quite weird indeed. Sirius Black was his godfather, for Merlin’s sake.

Regardless of what type of hug it was, though, it was comforting. Harry felt energised. He felt … well, as ready as he’d ever be to face what was coming. He had a feeling that his courage might be fleeting, though, Gryffindor or not. It was now or never.

“Okay. I feel a bit better now. I think we should get this over with.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The third time Harry followed the path from the trap door in the third floor corridor to the chamber containing the Mirror of Erised at the end, he was met by no resistance. It was for this reason that he’d left the dog – Sirius – standing beside the open trap door, keeping watch; as much as he would like some company, he didn’t have time to go through all the tasks just because Sirius hadn’t faced them before. He wasn’t even all that sure that he could pass some of them on his own. The chessboard, for example, would seem just a little too daunting to Harry without Ron standing by to make the hard strategic decisions.

It was a little scary how much Harry relied on his friends. He wouldn’t be able to this time around.

Harry stopped a moment before he stepped within view of the mirror, Hufflepuff’s cup clutched in his hand. He glanced at his watch and marked the time as six minutes after seven. That gave him until just after ten at night to get the Horcruxes to the Death Eaters. Not that he wanted to have to use that knowledge, for it would likely mean that he was really racing against time. It was a good idea to know though, so that he didn’t lose track of time.

Harry almost had to laugh at that. Like he was really going to lose track of time. Every second closer to the deadline was going to feel like years taken off his life, he just knew it.

He stepped up to the mirror and met his reflection’s eyes. Nothing seemed to happen for a long moment, and Harry worried that they might not have reversed the transfiguration entirely. It had felt right, though, once it had finally fallen into place. It had felt like the item was back to the form it wanted to be in, as if it was somehow sentient. It might well be, for all that Harry knew. Nothing in the magical world would really surprise him these days.

After a few breathless seconds, though, Harry’s reflection dropped the locket into the goblet. Though the weight added to the cup in Harry’s hand wasn’t excessive, it was still perceptible. He glanced into the cup.

With his free hand, he almost reverently dipped his fingers into the cup to retrieve the locket. When he pulled it out slightly, the links of the chain dangled between his fingers, slightly glinting in the dim light. Satisfied, Harry replaced it into the cup and then withdrew his wand.

“Reducto!” he cried.

The glass of the mirror shattered with a satisfying crash. When the splintering reaction to the spell ceased, the remaining backboard stood uncovered with a hole clear through it, almost ripped in half. Harry thought he could feel the complex charms that had enchanted it fading out of existence, and he was somehow sure that one seventh of Voldemort’s soul went with it. Harry delivered a vicious kick to what still remained of the mirror, causing it to crash backward and fully split apart against the stone floor. A sense of relief washed over Harry.

Three Horcruxes down.

Harry was sprinting back towards the trapdoor, the cup and locket clutched in his left hand and his wand in his right, before he even realised that his feet were moving. He’d wasted time getting rid of a Horcrux that he could have come back for, Harry knew, but he also felt far more ready to face the next two hours – what could be the last of his life, if it all went sour – after scoring such a huge point against Voldemort.

He’d proven to himself in one charm that he could destroy the Horcruxes. When it came down to it, that confidence might be the difference between seeing two and a half hours from that moment in time or … well, or not.

Harry used levitation magic to boost himself back up out of the hole left by the open trap door. It was exhausting, but Harry had yet to figure out any other way of getting out without the use of a broom. Ron and Hermione had used the brooms that were supplied in the key room to get out the first time, but they weren’t there to be used anymore. That was rather a pity, since Harry really wished he had a broom handy. He needed to get to the Apparition point as soon as possible, but he would have to get outside before he could summon his Nimbus from the Gryffindor Tower.

“You’ll have to stay here,” Harry told Sirius, who was still waiting in dog form by the trap door for Harry’s return. “I can’t take you with me. They know who you are, and you aren’t protected from attack like I am. They’ll kill you on sight if they can, for no other reason than that it would weaken me.”

Sirius didn’t seem particularly pleased by this, but he stopped at the entrance to the castle, refraining from following Harry outside. As the dog watched Harry’s broom zoom magically toward them, Harry thought he saw understanding in those dark canine eyes. Or, at least, he hoped he did.

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry really hated that cave. He’d been there and seen it all far too many times for his taste. He hated the sight of the cliff jutting up into the night, and the rock he had to bleed on in order to enter. He hated that it was shrouded in perpetual darkness but for the annoying green glow coming from inside that abhorrent basin, and he hated that huge dark lake and the thought of the hundreds of bodies that lurked beneath its surface. They had all disappeared from sight now that they were no longer needed to keep Dumbledore in his place. Most of all, though, he hated the fact that there were Death Eaters in the cave, and that he had to go inside and be near them if he wanted to live.

He wasn’t ready.

He had to be ready.

When he entered, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, for the small jets of light omitted by the four wands inside the cave barely made a dent in the darkness. After a few moments, he could make out Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the men who’d been ready to see him dead up on the battlements when the Death Eaters had invaded Hogwarts, and a young man who looked barely older than Harry himself. Harry had never seen him before, so he assumed he was a new recruit, probably just out of Durmstrang.

“Has wee little Potter lost his way?”

“I’m exactly where I mean to be,” Harry returned. Even though he’d made it to the cave in very little time, he still didn’t feel comfortable wasting time bickering with Bellatrix.

“Then has he lost his mind, I wonder?” Bellatrix cackled. “If the little baby had a brain, he would know that he should be crying for mercy right now.”

Harry glared at her, though he was well aware that the blackened state of the cave meant she probably couldn’t tell what expression he had on his face. Not that he actually believed she would care, in her state of mind. “You can’t hurt me. The Vow said that I would be allowed to come, give you the Horcruxes and return back to Hogwarts without being harmed.”

Bellatrix laughed again. The older man chimed in, though Harry had to admit that he, at least, sounded a great deal saner than the Lestrange woman. That wasn’t a big accomplishment, really, but he supposed it had to count for something.

“You were right, Bellatrix,” the man said. “He must be getting through school on celebrity alone, unless the Hogwarts standard has dropped significantly since I was there.”

Bellatrix sneered. “Oh, it has, though. That Muggle-lover, Dumbledore, is the worst thing that ever happened to Hogwarts. The mighty Slytherin house is all that’s left of the old ways, and Lucius says mudbloods are squirming their way into even that noble assembly.” Bellatrix suddenly showed her teeth in a terrifying leer. “But old Dumbly won’t be a problem anymore, will he?”

Harry just barely stopped himself from lunging at her.

“I’m going to kill you,” Harry said as calmly as he could manage, but it was said through clenched teeth. He rather thought that might have given away the fact that he was using tremendous effort to reign himself in. “Right after I put that snake you call ‘Master’ in the ground, I’m coming after you.”

This time it was the young man who laughed. “You English,” he said, obviously amused at Harry’s expense. His accent was surprisingly negligible. “You never know when to close your mouths.”

Bellatrix nodded zealously. “You really should be quiet, ickle Potter. You’re making silly threats that you can’t follow up on, since you’ll very soon be … what was it you said? ‘In the ground’? I’d give it maybe an hour and a half at most. I’m not sure if I want to know the exact time so I can be waiting for it, or not know and be surprised. I do so like surprises!”

“You’re mad,” Harry breathed. “Lucius made his Vow on behalf of all of the Death Eaters. If you hurt me now, you die. You might even all die, though I’m really not sure exactly how it works. It might actually be worth it, if it would take out all of you miserable bastards.”

“Oooh, isn’t ickle Potter brave?” cooed Bellatrix.

“We don’t have to hurt you,” the older man explained, sounding exasperated with Bellatrix and Harry both, as if they were both of a far inferior level of intelligence than him. Since Harry was fairly certain he was missing something key, he couldn’t really contradict such an opinion. “We just have to wait. If you don’t give us the Horcruxes within the two hours, you die. If we don’t let you give us the Horcruxes …”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Missing out on something important, indeed. “You can’t do that!”

“Why?” the man asked, his eyes glinting in a taunting manner. “Because it’s not fair?”

“The little baby is out of his depth, playing with the big boys,” Bellatrix mocked him. “Little babies shouldn’t get involved in adult magic. They could get burned.”

“You’ll fall down dead in just over an hour, I’d say,” the man guessed, glancing at his pocket watch, though Harry wasn’t sure whether the gesture was merely for effect or not, because it seemed unlikely the Death Eater could actually know when exactly Harry had acquired the locket, or make out the display on the watch face in the dark. “Then we take the cup and locket from your cooling body and take you back to the Dark Lord to prove that you are dead. He will be so pleased. His two enemies killed within a week. He’ll be running the wizarding world in no time.”

Harry would have liked to have thought up some witty retort, but he really wasn’t entirely sure he could actually use his tongue at that point. It, like the rest of him, seemed to be frozen in shock.

He was going to die. There was no way around it. Merlin, he hadn’t even said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, or Sirius, really, for that matter.

He couldn’t die yet. There had to be something he could do to save himself.

“Imperio!” Harry cried desperately. It hardly mattered to him in that moment that he had just earned himself life in Azkaban, should the Ministry ever find out.

The wizard who had just been rambling at him stopped moving, as if waiting along with Harry to see if the spell was going to work. Harry wanted so badly for it to work that he knew before the words even formed themselves that it was going to work. It had to.

The Death Eater’s eyes turned glassy. Harry mentally pushed the order to take the goblet and locket from his hand into the other man’s mind. The Death Eater took half a step, hesitated and seemed to almost stumble. Then it was over. The connection between Harry’s and the other man’s minds was broken.

“You can’t think I’m so weak-willed as to be able to be held by a wizard inexperienced in the Unforgivables.”

Harry had hoped exactly that, actually, but he didn’t say so. But then, there was another person in the room who wasn’t anything like as strong as the man he had just challenged.

Harry swivelled quickly to face the young Death Eater and recast the curse. Once again it caught him in Harry’s mental web. However, much to Harry’s relief, this time the spell held, and for a long moment it seemed that the young man was going to take the Horcruxes.

The last thing Harry expected was to be hit with a petrifying hex from the side. He had completely forgotten that there were two other armed and competent Death Eaters in the room, fully willing and able to stop him if the young man couldn’t do so himself. Harry lost his hold on the Death Eater at the same moment as his body snapped straight and board-like, and he fell to the ground, jarring his back painfully.

“Now, now, ickle baby, that wasn’t very nice.”

“It seems you just failed your test, Hoskins,” the older man said, though unlike Bellatrix he wasn’t addressing Harry. “The Dark Lord will deal with you in due time.”

Harry thought he saw real fear in the young man’s eyes at that statement. He wished that he could speak so that there might be a way of bribing the young Death Eater – no, probably not a Death Eater quite yet, from the sounds of it – into helping him by offering him protection against Voldemort. That, however, was not to be the case.

It couldn’t have taken more than twenty or thirty minutes of the Death Eaters standing around and Harry lying stiff on the ground, all of them waiting for Harry to eventually die, until Bellatrix eventually got restless. She seemed to be itching for a fight, and throwing insults at Harry when he was unable to react had not kept her happy for very long. Eventually, her eyes went to the young man, Hoskins, looking over him in a considering sort of way.

Harry decided that being subjected to the screaming and begging of another human being, even a would-be Death Eater, without being able to do anything to stop it or, at the very least, block it out was a thousand times worse than having Bellatrix taunt him. If he was going to die, he wished it would just hurry up and happen so that he could be freed from the heart-rending sounds. Preferably, he would die while Bellatrix’s attention was turned away from him, so that at least she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing the life leave his body.

He was going to die with only Death Eaters as his final company. That was a sad thought, if anything was. He was never going to see his friends again. They would probably be joining him soon enough, though, because who would kill Voldemort if Harry wasn’t there to fulfil the prophecy?

But then, if the prophecy was true, how could he possibly die right then? Voldemort was meant to kill him, or the other way around. If an Unbreakable Vow with Lucius killed him, that could never come true. Maybe Hermione had been right when she’d said that Divination was a dodgy sort of practice. Thinking about it was making his head spin, though it was still better than having nothing better to focus on than Hoskings’ torture.

It couldn’t be that long now, Harry thought to himself. He couldn’t really keep track of time particularly well when he was more interested in doing everything in his power to block out the screams and pitiful crying. However, he had a feeling that he couldn’t have more than maybe half an hour left. That seemed like mere seconds in the grand scheme of things, and yet, that was the rest of his life. It should have felt like years. It should have been years. It just wasn’t fair.

But then, as the Death Eater had alluded to earlier, just because something wasn’t fair didn’t make a difference to the fact that it was happening.

The screams stopped abruptly, and for one horrifying moment Harry thought that he had miscalculated and he was dying. It couldn’t end just like that though, could it? Wasn’t his life meant to flash before his eyes? Shouldn’t there have been angels singing, or at least some Dementor-like creature with a scythe coming after him? Maybe those people who’d told him such things didn’t really know. But then, how would they? It wasn’t as if they had ever died.

Harry felt cheated.

It wasn’t until he heard a triumphant cry of, “They’re down! Get Harry!” that Harry realised that he was probably still alive. He didn’t think that his last ever hallucination would have featured this situation. Visions of naked Veelas all in a row, maybe, or perhaps just standing over Voldemort’s dead body with the rest of the wizarding world cheering as if he’d just caught the snitch in the Quidditch World Cup final. Not those words, though. And definitely not the face of Bill Weasley looming before him. The redhead had a gash across his cheek that looked like it had been attained in a magical struggle. Blood seeped down his face from the open wound.

“Hey there, Harry,” Bill said as he freed him from the spell he was under and helped him into a sitting position. From there Harry could see what looked like most of the Order milling around the small section of the cave beside the lake. “All right?”

“No,” Harry whispered. “I’m going to die.” He couldn’t even tell Bill why. His chest, throat and eyes all burned as tears threatened to fall. The whole Order was going to watch him die and not be able to do a thing to stop it. He hoped that Mrs Weasley hadn’t come along, or Ron or Hermione. He thought he really would break down if he knew that they were going to see …

He hadn’t even said a proper goodbye to his godfather, he remembered once more. What would Sirius do without Harry there?

Bill’s eyes clouded over. “Oy! They’re all unconscious. Hurry up and tell him he can come in!”

Harry had no idea what Bill was talking about, though he did feel slightly miffed that he was being ignored in what could be his dying moments. He knew he’d always said he didn’t like getting a lot of attention, but still …

But then Harry saw yet another person come through the entrance of the cave and beeline straight for where he sat with Bill.

“Snape,” he breathed, his eyes narrowing almost due to instinct alone.

“If I’m going to risk my life for your sorry hide, Potter, you will damn well call me ‘sir’,” Snape barked at him.

“Fuck you, sir,” Harry replied.

“Harry,” another person called, and Harry looked away from Snape to see Remus Lupin just over the ex-teacher’s shoulder. “It’s all right. He’s the one who told us you were here. You need to give him the locket and cup, and then the Vow will be over.”

Harry glared at Snape, stubbornly refusing to move. He couldn’t trust the man who’d killed Dumbledore.

“Potter, don’t be a complete imbecile,” Snape sighed. “Even if I was a loyal Death Eater, I am surrounded by people who would gladly curse me if I tried to disappear with your precious keepsakes. Now hand them over.”

Harry didn’t like it, but he had to admit that what Snape had said made a lot of sense. He’d never admit that out loud, though. Over his dead body, as it were.

He reached out and offered the two Horcruxes to Snape, who also reached out to take them. Snape studied the items for a moment before handing them back to Harry.

“At least you brought the real Horcruxes. I fully expected you to mess it up and find fake Horcruxes. Typical Gryffindor bravery before brains.”

“I hate you,” Harry hissed as he snatched the locket and cup back.

“The feeling is mutual, Potter, let me assure you. However, I am on your side. I told you before we left for St Mungo’s –”

“I don’t care if you’re on our side or not!” Harry continued, heedless of Snape’s interjection. “Yeah, so you made an Unbreakable Vow to kill Dumbledore. I’m not so stupid that I couldn’t figure that out.” Harry had, in fact, spent a lot of time thinking about just that while he’d been lying about uselessly and mourning. “That doesn’t matter to me, though. You’re dirt. Don’t come in here and think that you can talk to me like you’re still my teacher. I didn’t respect you even when you were! Get the hell out of here before I kill you where you stand.”

“Harry!” one of the Order members exclaimed, shocked.

“You couldn’t successfully curse me if I tied myself up and then threw away my wand,” Snape taunted, but then turned his back and left the cave. Harry had expected Snape to curse him into silence, at the very least. His old teacher had never been a man with a particularly even temper. For once, however, he appeared to have been able to restrain himself.

“Want to test that?” Harry whispered, still spoiling for a fight regardless of Snape’s already obvious lack of reaction to him. He was certain Snape heard him regardless of his lack of volume. Teachers tended to have excellent hearing, and Snape especially so, a fact that had resulted in Harry finding trouble numerous times since arriving at Hogwarts. The Death Eater, however, didn’t turn around or in any way acknowledge that Harry had spoken.

“Come on, Harry,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said. “Let’s get you back to Hogwarts and this lot to Azkaban before their reinforcements decide to show up.”

Azkaban. Oh Merlin. Now that the Unbreakable Vow and Horcrux dilemma was at least partly over, there was still one more big consideration for Harry to address. There was an innocent man in Azkaban, waiting for him to do something about it. He was the only one who could. Harry groaned under his breath. As Sirius had told him, he’d waited for weeks already. He could wait another hour or so while Harry got himself and his godfather sorted out.

* * * * * * * * * *

It took twenty minutes of sitting around in the Headmaster’s office – well, the Headmistress’s now, since McGonagall had obviously taken over the post since Harry had first left the school – before the attention was no longer solely on Harry and he felt safe to attempt to sneak off to the Gryffindor Tower. He had to get Sirius out of here before Lupin had a chance to see him. Harry had little doubt that Remus would recognise his childhood friend even if he was in his Animagus form. Neither Harry nor Sirius could risk that until Harry had had a chance to explain the truth of the situation to him.

It was Snape leaving that finally created a diversion. The Death Eater claimed that his mark was burning. If the searing pain in Harry’s scar was anything to go by, he didn’t doubt it. Voldemort was angry. No, scratch that. His plans had been foiled and some of his key Death Eaters had been taken into custody. Voldemort would be furious. Harry didn’t envy Snape the task of reporting to the enraged Dark Lord, though Snape seemed certain, at least, that there was no way that Voldemort could know what had actually happened in that cave. Even if the Death Eaters they’d caught had been able to tell someone what they saw, the Order had made certain that Snape stayed well out of sight until the other Death Eaters were all unconscious. Voldemort couldn’t know that Snape had betrayed him. That was something, at least.

Harry left the room as soon as he was sure that Snape wasn’t going to die on his behalf, not even really sure why he cared. It wasn’t like he liked the man. He’d been ready to kill him himself not long ago. Harry supposed he’d just had enough of people being killed because of his mistakes. There was enough guilt in his life without adding a fresh serving on top of it all.

Sirius, still in his dog form, was waiting for him in the Gryffindor Tower, with two frantic Gryffindors sitting near him.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed and ran to hug him. Ron, always the least emotionally expressive of them, simply thumped Harry on the back in a mixture of relief and congratulations.

“You had us worried, mate,” Ron said, though he sounded less scolding than Hermione would have. The woman herself seemed too overwhelmed that he was all right to start berating him, at least for the moment.

“Sorry. Everything’s all right now, though. As all right as it can be, at least.”

“We told Snape,” Hermione said in a rush.

Harry frowned at her.

“Your dog showed up in the tower, so we knew that you must have come back to Hogwarts, which meant that you’d found whatever you were looking for. Since we couldn’t find you, we knew you must have gone to the Death Eaters alone.”

“Don’t do that again,” Ron added. “I don’t care if the Death Eaters told you not to bring anyone else along or whatever. What if there’d been a huge crowd of them waiting for you? You should always take backup.”

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed. “We didn’t know what to do, though, because no one in the Order knew the actual location of where you had to meet them. Except Snape, that is. So we decided that the worst that could happen was that he let Voldemort know you were at the cave, and the Death Eaters that were there could have done that just as easily if they’d wanted to. So we sent an owl off to Snape asking for help.”

“He contacted the Order,” Harry said quietly. “They saved me, and Snape helped me complete the Vow. So I suppose I have to thank you …” Harry trailed off. “Hang on, does that mean I owe him a life debt now?”

“They’re complicated, Harry. No one knows that a life debt has been invoked until they’re compelled to help the subject of the debt. Most times it’s fairly obvious, though. I mean, if one bloke saves another from being toasted by a dragon, you’re not likely to question that he owes the other guy his life, are you?”

Harry was quite stunned that it was Ron who was explaining this. It seemed much more Hermione’s field. But then, Ron had grown up in the wizarding world. He’d had much more opportunity to have this kind of thing explained to him. Even Hermione’s thirst for knowledge couldn’t lead her to answers if she wasn’t likely to think to ask the relevant questions.

“Well,” Harry sighed, “I guess we’ll see. Just one more reason to hate the bastard, I suppose.”

“But Harry,” Hermione began uncertainly, “he helped the Order. I don’t know what exactly happened with Dumbledore, but he’s obviously on our side.”

Harry snorted. “Doesn’t make him any less of an evil git. I know what happened with Dumbledore. Snape thought he should have been ‘put out of his misery’. He told me so himself! He said I should have done it back in the cave, before the whole thing could really get started. I don’t care if Dumbledore begged him to do it; it’s still murder. He didn’t even give the Healers a proper chance to try to heal him! He was too busy worrying about himself.”

“Harry –”

“Nothing’s going to change my mind about him,” Harry interrupted stubbornly.

“That’s all right,” Ron said in a placating tone of voice. “I still think he’s a right git, no matter whether he murdered Dumbledore or not. We’ve known that since we met him, really.”

Ron meant it to be reassuring, Harry knew. However, it only really served to show how far apart Harry really was from his friends right then. Harry remembered when he’d thought the way Ron did, managing to gloss over the main point of the matter so he could cling stubbornly to his views. He thought he might have been thirteen, or at the very most fourteen. Ron was seventeen, and not even the eternally impending war had managed to change him. Harry was glad for him, but he didn’t know how he felt about it himself.

How could he stay at Hogwarts and try to sort out the wreckage that had become his life since Voldemort had returned when the only people who would support him couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through? Hermione would be able to relate to it more than Ron would, of course, being the more perceptive and empathetic of the two. However, she still hadn’t been through all that he had.

He would go insane, or at least more so, without easy access to someone who understood what he was going through. Once upon a time, that had always been Dumbledore. Now he was going to have to make alternative arrangements.

Unfortunately, that meant that Harry had to get out of Hogwarts for a while. He had to go somewhere where he could discuss the Horcruxes with someone who knew what darkness really was as more than an abstract concept, and could help him rid the world of both the Horcruxes and Voldemort himself. Sirius had already proven himself willing and able in both respects. However, that meant following him out of Hogwarts rather than just sending him away and meeting up with him at a later date, as Harry had initially planned.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry eventually sighed half-heartedly. “I really appreciate it. And I’m glad that you’re both on my side. You’ll have to do be there for me from a distance for a while, though. I have to leave Hogwarts, and not just for the summer.”

“Where are you going? Not back to the Dursleys, surely?” Ron asked, his forehead creasing in confusion.

Dumbledore had wanted that, of course. However, when Dumbledore had said that, Harry doubted that he could have predicted the exact events that had occurred. Who would have guessed, if they knew all of the facts of the situation, that Harry would be running off to find ways to kill the Dark Lord with Sirius Black, of all people, who most people thought was Voldemort’s number one supporter?

“No, not there,” Harry admitted. He wasn’t welcome there anymore, after all. “I just need to get away. I need to go somewhere where I can concentrate on what’s coming. I have two Horcruxes to destroy, another one to find and break and a Dark Lord to kill. I can’t do all that at Hogwarts.”

“Can’t you stay for just a little while longer, though?” Hermione asked. “You really should get some rest while you can.”

“Yeah, you look like death heated up,” Ron chimed in, which earned him a glare from Hermione and an amused but tired smile from Harry.

“Or we could come with you,” Hermione suggested. “You’ll probably need someone to help out with research.”

She sounded so hopeful. Harry hated to hurt her, or Ron for that matter, but it had to be done.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you can help me this time.”

Harry might have been among the bravest of the Gryffindors, which was saying a lot in a house filled with students sorted primarily for their valour, but right at that moment he was scared that if he looked, he would see a look of hurt on Hermione’s face, and a look of sad incomprehension that he was sure would be adorning Ron’s.

He turned on his heel and fled like a coward, the dog bounding after him.

Sirius did not seem to want to leave the school willingly, but after Harry had repeatedly assured him that he’d meet him at the Black house in an hour or two, the animal took off into the darkness. Harry himself had some business to take care of first.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I didn’t know you owned a dog.”

That hadn’t been exactly what Harry had expected to be the first words out of Remus Lupin’s mouth when he ran into him not far from what was now Headmistress McGonagall’s office.

“I don’t,” Harry said without thinking.

“Oh? Severus told me that your friends led him to believe that they knew you’d been into the school again because your dog had suddenly returned. I was under the impression that you owned an owl, and unless the rules have changed quite a bit since I attended here, Hogwarts students are only allowed one pet. And not a dog, at that.”

Harry sighed, exasperated. “I own an owl. I don’t actually own the dog. Or, at least, I didn’t own him until he latched on to me when I was looking for the locket.” Harry steeled himself. He had to tell the story. He’d come back into the school for the sole purpose of telling someone, preferably Remus, that there was an innocent man in Azkaban in Sirius’ place. Well, here they both were. Remus deserved to know the whole story, as well. He should know that his friend was innocent, at least of most of the crimes of which he’d been accused.

“Actually, I came up here to tell you something. It involves the dog.”

From the way Remus’ eyebrows rose practically into his grey-speckled fall of hair, it appeared to Harry that he was interested. Harry felt a wave of relief as he realised that he was free to tell the story now that the Vow had been fulfilled. There would be no more worrying about dropping dead just because he’d said the wrong thing.

“I went to Azkaban, like you suggested,” he began hesitantly. “I had intended on just looking for the Horcrux and then leaving, but then the men guarding the boats to the prison said something about it being against the rules to seek revenge against the prisoners when I said that I wanted to visit Sirius Black. I couldn’t just leave it alone after that.”

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t …” Remus’ voice was pleading, but at the same time Harry could tell that he already knew the truth and was resigned to it. He’d taken the risk that it would happen the moment he told Harry how to get into Azkaban.

“I did. I had to. Funny thing, though. The person in the cell was blonde and young. He was several years ahead of me at school. I know this because I recognised him.”

“You must have gone to the wrong cell. That isn’t Sirius Black.”

“No, it isn’t,” Harry agreed. “But I went to the right cell. The man in the cell didn’t really belong there. He’s innocent of any crime. He’ll have to be retrieved as soon as possible, and I’ll need you to help me with that. The Death Eaters put him there as a diversion so that they could break the real Sirius Black out.”

“What?” Remus gasped. “You mean he’s escaped? But –” A sudden look of understanding flashed across Remus’ face. “The dog! Harry –”

“I know.”

“What do you mean? You couldn’t possibly –”

“I used magic in Azkaban without thinking. The Dementors attacked me. I don’t know how to perform the spell to drive them off, yet they didn’t suck out my soul. The dog, which I’d taken along with me just in case, hidden under my invisibility cloak, had turned into a man, and he took my wand and cast the spell for me even as I was passing out. He saved my life.

“It took me a while to figure out who he was. I attacked him; yes, I know what he was accused of. I wanted to kill him. He eventually got his story out. It took a while for my mind to really wrap itself around the whole thing. It probably helped that I learned as time went by that he obviously was never a Death Eater, but I believe it. It makes sense.”

Remus shook his head. “You can’t believe anything he says. He’s proficient in lying, we always knew that. We never would have pulled off half as many pranks as we did in school if he wasn’t able to cover his own and our backs. But we never thought that he could lie so well to us, his closest friends. He fooled James, and they were closer than brothers. He could so easily fool you. You don’t even know him.”

Harry shook his head. “If he was a loyal Death Eater, he would have been broken out when the rest were a year ago, rather than just recently. His story adds up. He was broken out and put under the Imperius Curse so that he would lead me to the locket, because Voldemort knew that his brother had taken it and suspected that it was hidden away in the Black house. Only Blacks could get into the house, and Sirius resisted the Imperius when the Death Eaters tried to order him to get them inside. When I mentioned that I was looking for a man named Black, though, the dog saw no reason to resist. He wanted to help me get what I wanted, so he went along with it. He claims he broke the curse later, though, when I told him to stay away from me even though I obviously needed someone to take care of me. That apparently went against what he wanted.”

“He betrayed your parents, Harry.”

“No, he didn’t. He killed Peter Pettigrew because he betrayed my parents. At the same time, he got rid of any chance he had to have his name cleared. Pettigrew, my parents and Sirius were the only ones who knew that they’d swapped.” Harry gazed at Remus apologetically. “They suspected you. That’s why they didn’t tell you.”

Remus looked thoughtful on top of his concern. “Peter? He was always weaker than the rest of us …”

“Sirius told me that that’s why they changed. They thought that Voldemort would never suspect him because he was weak. The same qualities must have made him the perfect spy.”

Remus shook his head slowly. “But why would Sirius do that, if it’s true? Why not tell the Aurors, or Dumbledore, what really happened? They could have tracked down Peter and brought him to justice, and Sirius could have kept from becoming a murderer.”

“He’s a rat, isn’t he? I’m guessing that once Pettigrew went into hiding, he could stay hidden. How would the Ministry ever track down one seemingly-ordinary rat? Besides, as much as I’m beginning to like him, Sirius doesn’t strike me as the most stable individual, and I don’t think that that can all be attributed to the effects of Azkaban. I’m guessing he wanted revenge bad enough to not think about the consequences. Besides, there are things that are worth killing over just as much as there are things worth dying for.”

“Yes,” Remus agreed. “That sounds just like the Sirius we knew. He loved James, and you and Lily, like nothing else in his life. You all were his family.”

Harry almost glowed at the thought of it. Family. Sirius had obviously never been close to his relatives, either. They seemed even worse than the Dursleys, if possible, though they took the exact opposite stance on the Magic vs. Muggle debate. But now the Blacks were gone, and Harry wouldn’t ever have to see the Dursleys again.

He and Sirius could be each other’s family now.

After a long pause of thought, Remus’ face fell into a horrified kind of grimace. “If it’s true, that means that he’s spent fifteen years in Azkaban when he was innocent, or at least mostly innocent.”

Harry nodded. “And they would put him straight back in there if they ever caught him. Even if they believed his story, he still killed Pettigrew. Sirius has assured me that what he did would be considered murder under the law, with no available defences. If it was my call, I’d pardon him. Sometimes murder is called for.”

Remus must have picked up on the dark look on Harry’s face.

“Harry, even if you kill Voldemort, that won’t be murder,” Remus assured him with an apprehensive frown.

“So Sirius said. But I wasn’t referring to Voldemort.”

Remus looked even more wary then. “Harry, you don’t really want to kill Snape.” It wasn’t even phrased as a question. Frankly, that annoyed Harry quite a bit. He liked Lupin well enough, but the man didn’t know him well enough to be presuming what he wanted in life.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he admitted. “It scares me that I don’t know whether I have that kind of darkness in me. I think that I would take the chance to kill Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s an evil and insane bitch, and she killed Tonks. Most of all, though, it would be self-defence, since I can’t imagine ever being in a room with her when she wasn’t trying to kill me. I’m not worried about myself when I think about that; it’s not safe for anyone to have her alive, so really I’d just be protecting the world from her. But Snape … I can’t make the same sorts of arguments. He’s dark, but he’s not insane and there’s certainly a chance that he’s not completely evil. He’s not likely to kill just for the fun of it. I would be killing him in cold blood. And yet, I’ve thought about it non-stop since he killed Dumbledore. Does that make me dark?”

“No. Look, I’m going to trust you with something, because I think it will help you understand, and I think you ought to know who I really am. I hope that it doesn’t change everything that we’ve been through … I’m a werewolf, Harry.”

Remus paused to gauge Harry’s reaction. He looked afraid that Harry would suddenly spring upon him wanting his blood, much like he had done to Sirius when he’d first realised the man’s true identity.

Instead, Harry merely said, “I know. Sirius let it slip when he was telling me about the Animagus thing. He was terribly sorry about that, by the way.”

“Oh. Wow. Well then. Er … well, that means that once a month I think about ripping people to shreds, and not just while I’m actually in wolf form. Sometimes straight before the moon is full those thoughts will come to me. I don’t act on them, though. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.

“I feel a bit like Dumbledore saying this, really, but it’s our actions that define us. You are not dark unless you go through with the dark sorts of thoughts that you might think of now and then.”

“What if I do? What if I can’t control myself?”

Remus looked a little worried for a moment longer, but then he steeled his expression. “Harry, if you were the kind of person who would go around killing people on a whim, even if you thought that they deserved it, you wouldn’t be fighting against Voldemort. You would have joined him by now. You’ve been exposed to a lot more murder and torture than most, so you naturally think more about the possibility. But you’re only sixteen. I don’t think that you really know what you want quite yet, and I’m confident that when you figure it out, it will be the right thing.”

Harry shuddered. “I hope so. I hope this feeling goes away soon. I don’t like being filled with rage at just the thought of a person. Especially since it’s Snape. He’s saved my life heaps of times over the years. I shouldn’t want to kill him. I don’t even know if I could. I don’t want to find out.”

Remus smiled, finally. “Well, there you have it. That doesn’t sound too dark to me. You can’t really want to kill him if you’ve got that kind of attitude toward it.”

Harry just shrugged. “I hope I don’t, at least. I don’t think I want to stick around to find out. He’ll be back here eventually, I’m betting and that means that I would have to face him again. It’s too soon for that. That’s one of the reasons I have to go. I’m going to stay with Sirius so that we can work on destroying the … the objects … oh, fuck it.”

Harry gave Remus a pleading look. “Promise me you won’t tell a soul what I’m going to tell you now. You trusted me with your secret, now I have to be able to trust you. The more people that I know I can trust with this, the better, but I don’t feel comfortable with the Order at large knowing. If it gets back to Voldemort that I know as much as I do … well. Just promise me, please.”

“Harry, of course. You can trust me.”

“Right then. The locket and cup are two of a number of objects known as Horcruxes. To make a long story short, the Horcruxes are objects that hold part of Voldemort’s soul. He can’t die until all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, because they act as an anchor to keep his soul from passing on. That’s why he didn’t die properly when he tried to kill me. Dumbledore thinks – thought – that there are seven pieces of soul because of a conversation Voldemort had when he was younger about seven being a magical number. That means six Horcruxes plus the bit of Voldemort’s soul that’s still in his body.

“So far we’ve destroyed three. Voldemort left a diary with a memory of himself in it in his youth which I destroyed years ago. Dumbledore destroyed the ring owned by his mother’s family, the Gaunts. I destroyed Ravenclaw’s mirror. I have Hufflepuff’s cup and Slytherin’s locket, though I still have to find a way to destroy them, and the portion of Voldemort’s soul inside them.

“That leaves one more. Dumbledore suspected Nagini, Voldemort’s snake. I think I might have to do some more research or something to be sure. If it is Nagini, when I attempt to destroy her, I’ll have to be ready to attempt to kill Voldemort himself as well, since wherever she is, he’ll be.

“I need to go stay with Sirius so that I can get away from everyone else so that I can concentrate, and so I can use the Black library for research. Sirius himself was a great help with transfiguring the cup back into its original form, as well, so I’m hoping he can help me with the rest.”

Remus nodded. “So you’ll be going soon?”

“Now, actually. Or as soon as we’re done here. There’s no point in staying. Voldemort’s going to be extremely mad after we foiled his little scheme. I’m guessing the next few months are going to be hell. If I can take him out of the picture as soon as possible and potentially stop some of the damage, then I’d be a fool not to take the chance.”

“I thought you might say that,” Remus replied. To Harry’s delight, he sounded vaguely approving of the idea, though Harry could tell he still had reservations. It was a little sad how much he craved that approval.

“I’m coming with you.”

Harry frowned. “No. You have things to do for the Order, I’m sure. The werewolves are getting out of hand. If at all possible, you should be working with them, either to save as many of them as possible, or to infiltrate the pack and spy for us.” Harry paused uncertainly. “Er, that is, unless you don’t want to put yourself at that kind of risk. That would be completely understandable, of course.”

“I already am attempting that kind of work under Dumbledore’s orders,” Remus interrupted his rambling with a smile. “I’m well and truly willing to put myself at risk. But I meant only that I’m coming with you now, just for a while. I need to see Sirius with my own eyes, not to mention have a bit of a chat with him. I need to make sure you’re safe. I should be able to judge his state of mind better than you can, having known him for much longer than you. I won’t leave you with him unless I can be sure of his motives.”

Harry would have liked to have argued, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t get him very far. Remus Lupin seemed as stubborn as he was, if not more so. Harry didn’t have hours to spend arguing over it, especially when he couldn’t be sure that the man wouldn’t just find a way to follow him anyway.

“Fine. There’s nothing I need from here that I haven’t already taken to the house; that’s where I was staying after Dumbledore died.”

“What house?” Remus asked, confused.

Harry shrugged. “The Black house.”

Remus seemed taken aback. “Sirius said he’d never go back there. I mean, I understand that he took you there to get your Horcrux, but that he stayed there …”

Harry bit his lip. “That would be my fault. I was in shock after Dumbledore died. I wouldn’t even get out of bed for food and using the bathroom unless he forced me to. I don’t think he had time to go house shopping. I think it was just meant to be temporary, though. Maybe we’ll move places soon.”

Remus frowned. “You’ll tell me if you do, won’t you?”

Harry nodded, rolling his eyes. “Of course. Isn’t it obvious from all the overly soppy talking that I’ve taken a liking to you? Besides, I’m not sure that I can talk to other more high-profile members the Order directly; Voldemort will likely be watching for that. You might have to get the news to them for me if necessary.”

“I can do that.” He paused and laughed in an almost self-depreciating kind of way. “After all, it makes perfect sense to go through seven years of education at one of the best magical schools in the world simply to become a message boy.”

Harry took that comment with the intended grain of salt. At least, he hoped it was intended.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sirius?” Harry called through the door.

He rang the doorbell, knocked on the wood several times, and still there was nothing.

“Sirius, it’s Harry and –”

The door swung open before Harry could finish his sentence and Sirius grinned at him. The smile in combination with the fact that Sirius seemed to be freshly washed had the effect of making him look much, much younger. Take off a few further years and Harry could imagine a young man who might have been friends with his parents. He looked … dashing, though still a little unkempt. Not that Harry could complain about other people having messy appearances.

Harry felt Remus move up closer behind him, though he was still obscured from Sirius’ view by the door. Harry bit his lip with anxiety. He’d intended to warn Sirius that they had company so that he’d at least had the option of composing himself before he answered, or simply not answering at all. What if he didn’t want to see Remus?

“Sorry, Harry, had to make sure it was you before I opened up, and I couldn’t exactly answer to my name until I knew that, could I? What’s wrong?”

Harry supposed he must have looked very uncomfortable.

“Um …” he started, and then simply stepped aside slightly, reaching out and pushing the door all the way open.

“Remus,” Sirius breathed as his gaze fell on his old friend.

“Sirius,” Remus returned. However, where Harry had expected a warm welcome, perhaps even a manly hug, the tone of that word was curt and spoken in what was almost a growl. Harry glanced over at the other man to see that Remus’ wand was raised and pointed at Sirius’ chest.

“Give me a reason, Sirius. I swear, if you’ve put a Confoundus Charm or something on Harry and made him believe that you’re on his side, or that you love him, or whatever your sick mind thinks up, the Dementors will seem like paradise compared to me!”

Harry could feel that his eyes were wide. “You said that you trusted me! You acted like you believed me.”

Remus didn’t take his eyes off Sirius, but his voice softened slightly. “Harry, I want to believe you, I really do, but I have to be sure. If Sirius is as innocent as he’s said he is, he’ll understand that I’m only looking out for you. By the way, you really ought to answer the door with a wand in hand, Sirius. It’s just common sense when everyone in the wizarding world would love to have a go at you. Some escaped convict you make.”

“Merlin, Remus, please believe me. I would never have hurt James and Lily or Harry. Peter –”

“Harry’s told me your story,” Remus cut him off. With his spare hand he reached into his robes and withdrew a small vial filled with clear liquid. Harry had seen that before. He’d even been threatened with it. Merlin, how he hated Snape.

“There’s no point in repeating it all to me unless you’re willing to certify the truth of it.”

Sirius pursed his lips. “Fine. I get it. There’s no other way. Only, could we do this inside?”

“Where your wand is waiting?” Remus scoffed.

“Just inside the door if you like. Veritaserum makes me a bit dizzy, is all, and I think I’d draw a bit more attention than I’d like if I toppled over on the street in broad daylight. It’s a bit early to be that wasted.”

“Fine,” Remus barked. “But know that I won’t hesitate. As far as I’m concerned right now, you killed some of my best friends. My family. Don’t push me.”

Sirius nodded slightly. “All right. Hands on my head, then. Like a criminal. I certainly know the drill now, at least.”

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Harry might have laughed. As it was, he followed the two wizards inside, shutting the door after him. He finally thought to withdraw his own wand, just in case.

“You’ll have to administer it, Remus. I’m guessing you won’t trust me to do it, and Harry’s apparently Confounded, so –”

“So enough chatter. Let’s get this over with. Open up.”

Sirius did so and let Remus reach over and place a few drops under his tongue.

“Right,” Remus said, self-satisfied. He steadied his wand on Sirius once more. “So I’m sorry about this if you’re innocent, but I have to make sure it’s working. Who was the first person you had sex with?”

“You,” Sirius said immediately, and then glared at Remus.

Harry’s eyes darted back and forward between them. He was pretty certain he could have caught dragonflies in his mouth.

Remus smiled almost indulgently. For all his shock, it put Harry at rest a little.

“Right. ‘I’ve already done my experimentation’, indeed. You liar. You’d do anything to get laid, wouldn’t you?” Remus then appeared to remember Harry was in the room. His eyes darted to the young man for the first time since Sirius had opened the door. “Er, so. Embarrassing question that you never would have answered truthfully if the Veritaserum wasn’t working: check. Moving on.

“Who was Lily and James Potter’s Secret Keeper?”

“Peter Pettigrew.” Sirius looked extremely glad to get that out of the way.

Remus nodded, biting his lip. His wand flagged a little.

“Did you betray Lily and James to Lord Voldemort?”

“No.”

“Were you ever in league with Voldemort?”

“No.”

“Have you lied to Harry at any point during his stay with you?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Oh, Merlin. Sirius.”

Harry had barely even heard the clatter of a wand hitting the ground when he realised that Remus had practically leapt at Sirius.

“You stupid idiot! Why did you swap Secret Keepers?”

“I thought Voldemort would come after me and Peter would be safe. I just wanted to know that Lily and James would be safe. Instead, I fucked up and now they’re dead and it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s Peter’s fault. Merlin, his Animagus was a bloody rat! Why did that not ring an alarm bell or two? Don’t answer that,” Remus said as Sirius opened his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We thought you were the spy. Dumbledore had you spending time with the werewolves. We were worried that you’d found something there that we couldn’t give you.”

“I thought you must have been bad-mouthing me to Lily and James and Peter, and that was why we stopped spending so much time together. Even then, I would have taken what little I got from you to anything Fenrir’s little band of murders could offer any time.”

Harry suddenly felt like he was intruding. He also felt strange when he looked at the two men so close together, Remus’ arm around Sirius’ back. They had slept together. The thought sent a pang through him. Harry refused to call it arousal, because that would be too strange. The two men were as old as his father would have been, had seen him when he was a baby. One of them was his godfather, for Merlin’s sake!

“I missed you so much,” Sirius rasped. “I feel like I’ve lived centuries without you and James. And even Peter, but, well, good riddance.”

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like, living a decade and a half with Dementors drawing away every happy thought,” Remus breathed.

“Like hell, but a thousand times worse,” Sirius responded. Harry thought that he might not have admitted to that if he wasn’t under Veritaserum, because it seemed to cause Remus almost physical pain to hear it. “I tried to tell myself that I was innocent, that I didn’t betray Lily and James, because it wasn’t really a happy thought. It was just the truth, so I thought I could cling to that. But then they kept making me remember that I killed Peter, and I wasn’t really innocent at all, so it only partially worked. I think I’m a bit mad.”

“You always were,” Remus replied affectionately. “I doubt I’ll even notice the difference.”

“Er, I think I’m going to go grab some food. I’m starving,” Harry said, excusing himself awkwardly but efficiently.

“Wait, Harry!” Remus called. The man untangled himself from Harry’s godfather to turn and properly face him. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you completely. It’s just … I see it among all the people you meet. Anyone you open up to in any way generally becomes very attached to you. I’m hardly exempt. I care about you, and not just because of your parents. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Oh … er, thanks. I, um, like you, too.” Harry choked out.

Sirius grinned at him. “That’s my godson. Such a way with words.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry grunted back as he turned away in search of sustenance. Secretly, he smiled just a little.

As he was walking away down the hall, trying to be quiet so as not to reawaken the portrait of Sirius’ mother, who had only just stopped screaming from when the doorbell had rung and awakened her, Harry heard Remus say, “So, while you’re still under a truth potion, who was your first kiss?”

“You. Damn it, Moony! There’s such a thing as fair play!”

“I knew you weren’t that experienced! You couldn’t possibly have kept quiet about as many conquests as you were trying to make me think you’d had.”

Harry smiled. He was glad they were getting along. He had a feeling that they needed to be alone for a while, though. There were things that needed to be said that they might not want to say in front of him. Although he would really like to know everything, he would much prefer that they got everything in the real sense of the word out into the open between them to him knowing almost everything. It would be better for both of them. Merlin knew those two had a lot of wounds to heal.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Veritaserum wore off long before Remus left to go back to his spying – or whatever it was he was doing, Harry wasn’t sure – for the Order. The two seemed to agree without saying a word that they would keep up their full disclosure regardless, though Harry only heard snippets of their conversation. It was for that reason that Harry wasn’t all that sad to see Remus go. He liked the man, but he wanted to spend time with his godfather without the threat of Harry and/or Dumbledore dying over their heads. He didn’t think that was too much to ask.

“So,” Harry said eventually. “You and Remus are together?”

Sirius laughed. “Not for a long time, Harry, and we weren’t together for long at all at the time, either. We were friends, we both liked other boys, and we lived in the same dormitory. It eventually had to happen, I think. It was experimentation for us both, really, no matter how much I had to tell Remus otherwise for him to eventually agree to sleep with me. I swear he’s as much like a woman as any man I’ve ever met.”

“Oh,” Harry said in acceptance. “So nothing happened just before?”

Sirius shrugged. “You know, the usual. We talked, I shagged his brains out … Harry, I’m kidding,” Sirius added when Harry’s eyes bulged out.

“Oh, Merlin, when will you stop scarring me for life? You’re my godfather!” Harry exclaimed. “It is so weird that you just told me that when you’re my godfather. And speaking of which, do I even want to ask whether you ever slept with my father?”

“I think you just did. The answer’s no, by the way. Even if he wasn’t completely, one hundred and ten percent straight, he had his heart set on your mother practically from puberty, whether he knew it or not. And we were far too much alike to have ever had a chance. We would have killed each other on the first date. What works as a friendship doesn’t always function so well as a romantic relationship, I’ve found.

“Besides, he was reasonable-looking, but nothing special enough to risk our friendship over. Remus, on the other hand, was really something. He had those wonderful eyes that I just got lost in …”

Harry cleared his throat. “We have now reached my comfort level.”

“And you, of course, have your mother’s eyes. They would look so gorgeous if you would just ditch those glasses. And you don’t have your father’s nose, either, which is a blessing and a half. It always amused me that he mocked Snape’s nose all the time when his really wasn’t that much better. No, I lie. Nothing’s as big and ugly as Snape’s nose. But yes. Anyway. Overall, I’d say you’re quite a bit fitter than your father. I bet you reel in the ladies with that Quidditch-toned body and those deep green eyes. Or have I misspoken? Perhaps it’s the boys that catch your eye, eh?”

Harry stood silent for a moment, simply gaping at his godfather.

“Wow,” he eventually said, “see that? That was my comfort zone being breached. Obliterated, even. In fact, if anyone ever finds my comfort zone, please return it, for it is lost and it desperately needs to come home.”

Sirius grinned. “You’re a bit of a prude, Harry Potter. No one would ever mistake you for James in that respect. We couldn’t get him to shut up about this and that that he’d done with Lily.”

“Sirius, that’s my mother you’re talking about!”

“And your father,” Sirius reminded him cheerfully.

“I’m never really going to get used to you, am I?”

“I doubt it.” Sirius shrugged. “But look on the bright side. Life with Sirius Black is rarely boring, or so I’m told.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry didn’t remember ever having a dull life. Even though he used to be alone a lot of the time, locked away in his cupboard, the fact that he was a child locked in a cupboard combined with the weird and wonderful reasons he’d generally have been put in there served to relieve his life of the possibility of boredom. And he’d barely had a dull moment to himself since starting school.

However, none of that compared to living with Sirius. He was like both Weasley twins combined into one being, on a sugar rush. Harry had expected when he found out he had a godfather that he’d be gaining a parental figure in his life. Although it wasn't like Mrs Weasley didn’t more than manage that task on her own already, so he didn’t really need Sirius to fulfil that role. What he’d gotten instead – and he was rather certain that he’d gotten a better deal of it as it presently stood – was another best friend, a brother and a confidant.

Of course, the confidant bit was new on Sirius. Harry told him things he hadn’t even told Ron or Hermione, like that he’d almost been put into Slytherin (and Sirius had been so pleased about that, Harry remembered), which led into even more serious things, like the ones he’d spoken to Remus about. Even though Harry trusted that Remus knew about darkness, having a dark creature living inside him, talking about issues of murder somehow seemed to escalate to an all-new level when the person you were talking to was, in fact, a convicted murderer. Sirius had all kinds of ideas about darkness and what actually constituted murder. In a strange way, it made Harry feel slightly better about the whole thing.

In fact, talking to Sirius actually to some extent seemed to curb his hateful and even borderline murderous feelings toward Snape. It was funny, but even though Sirius hated Snape with a passion, his hate was so similar in nature to Ron’s that Harry couldn’t help thinking that he seemed to be the only person in the world who hated Snape for a real, not childish reason. Of course, he then abruptly was forced to consider that maybe he was being childish. Harry knew and accepted Snape’s reasons for the things he had done, and he even agreed with them to some extent. It occurred to him that he might hate the thought of Snape simply because he was uncomfortable with what he had done, and him in general. It was something to think more on when his brain didn’t hurt quite so much, he supposed.

On the other hand, though, living with Sirius wasn’t all fun and relieving his own sense of guilt. Since their rooms were straight across the hall from each other, it was not a rare occasion for one of them to awaken to the other crying out due to bad dreams or, in Harry’s case, rare visions of Voldemort’s actions.

The first time it had happened, Harry had awaken to find Sirius caressing his sweaty forehead with a calming hand and murmuring soothing words. He had eventually transformed into a dog and curled up with Harry on the bed. He got through the rest of the night without being subjected to further disturbing nightmares. This happened several more times within the space of a few days.

The night that Harry awoke to harsh whimpering across the hall, he felt that he could do no less than what his godfather had done for him. He was a little surprised to find that Sirius was sleeping in his dog form. When he woke Sirius, who informed him he’d been remembering his time in Azkaban less than fondly, he had asked Sirius about it.

“The Dementors always affected me less in this form. I think that my mind is less complex as a dog, and so they didn’t find it as appetising. I never fell asleep as a human for fear that I wouldn’t be sane when I woke up. I guess old habits die hard.”

Harry’s heart clenched. No one should ever have to become accustomed to having to take that kind of precaution unless they were truly the scum of the earth. Death would be so much more humane. From then on, Harry didn’t worry so much about his tendencies toward Snape. There were worse things in the world than wishing that a man was dead. He didn’t wish for even Snape to go to Azkaban, though he thought he might have wanted Peter Pettigrew in there if he wasn’t already dead, if only because that would mean that Sirius would be entirely innocent and would never have been locked up there.

When the two awoke in the morning, practically spooning in Sirius’ bed, Harry wondered why he wasn’t more embarrassed. He was nearly a grown man, physically and in the eyes of the law. He was too old to share a bed for comfort, really, even when it was with his godfather, and the only other reason for him to be sharing a bed … well, again, the man in question was his godfather. He should feel completely awkward about the mere possibility of it being like that. He wrote his lack of mortification off as being the result of Sirius remaining in dog form whenever they slept in the same bed. There couldn’t be anything wrong with a young man sleeping in the same bed as his dog, surely.

Sirius was full of apologies, though he’d made a habit of fobbing Harry off over those past few days whenever he tried to do the same. Harry thought that, as the adult, Sirius might have felt that he should have been stronger. It was his place to be the protector rather than the protected. Harry thought that that was stupid, but said nothing of the sort aloud.

“It’s just this house. It brings back the same sorts of memories as the Dementors made me think about all the time in Azkaban,” Sirius explained dejectedly.

Harry didn’t blame him in the slightest. He didn’t feel all that comfortable in the house on Grimmauld Place either, and he hadn’t had to spend a largely miserable childhood there.

So that was that. Harry had organised for them to leave the house that afternoon, only a week and a half after they’d first settled in. They’d had to shrink the Black library so that they could take it with them. Some of the more valuable books had to be left behind because they wouldn’t stop shrieking at a deafening volume every time an attempt was made to take them past the door leading into the library. Sirius had promised Harry that none of them were likely to be particularly relevant to Horcruxes and their destruction, so they had quickly decided that the tomes were more trouble than they were worth. The shrieks as they’d burned in the fireplace had been a level above any sounds they’d made before that point. Somehow that really satisfied Harry, and he was sure that Sirius felt the same.

Harry had actually had no idea where they could go to stay, but Sirius seemed a lot happier to take charge once the decision had been made that they should leave the Black house. They had Flooed to a small pub in what looked to be an even smaller sort of village.

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Sirius mentioned twenty minutes later.

Harry, who was trailing Sirius with all the bags floating before him – he’d had to take on the task due to Sirius’ inability to secure himself a wand of his own – grunted. It took a fair amount of concentration to direct several floating trunks about, especially over a long time while one was also trying not to trip over his own feet.

“You don’t say?” he groaned.

Sirius only grinned at him. “Not much further though. Maybe ten minutes.”

It turned out to be fifteen, which was lucky. If it had been twenty, Harry thought he might have hit Sirius over the head with one of the trunks and been done with him.

The sat house in what might have been the middle of nowhere if not for the town half an hour’s walk away, with not another dwelling for miles, much like the Weasley’s. The field that surrounded it would be perfect for Quidditch practice if Harry had that kind of time, he thought wistful. The house itself looked fairly small from where he and Sirius stood, but Harry thought that it was likely that it would be a very comfortable place inside, even if it wasn’t magically enhanced as some houses – Number 12 Grimmauld Place included – seemed to be.

“Is this where we’re staying?” Harry asked.

Sirius nodded slightly. “If you want to. I have to tell you something first, though, before you make your decision.”

Harry frowned, abruptly filled with apprehension. What could be so wrong with this nice-looking house that they’d have to find another?

“This is the house your parents owned,” Sirius informed him in a low voice. Harry gaped at it. “It’s yours now, of course, so you can live here if you like, but …”

“But my parents died here,” Harry finished. As if in a trance, Harry walked toward the house. After a moment’s hesitation, Sirius fell into step directly behind him.

“I’m pretty certain that most of the wizarding world was led to believe that it was destroyed when Voldemort tried to kill you. It was one of many steps the Ministry and Dumbledore would have had to have taken to keep tourists away. I knew better, though. I thought you deserved to at least see the place, even if you don’t want to stay here.”

Harry paused at the door, looking at it speculatively. “How do we get in?” he asked.

Sirius stepped forward, running his hand over the door and then nodding in satisfaction.

“I thought so,” he muttered, then raised his voice for Harry’s benefit. “You’ll always be able to feel most Ministry-induced magic from a mile away. They’ve put a blood ward on your door, same as there is at my parents’ house. As a Potter, it should open when you touch it.”

Harry reached out and cautiously ran his hand down the centre of the wooden door. He jumped slightly when it sprung open.

“Right then. It was probably a good idea for them to do it, so that the house could be protected, but we’ll have to change the wards if we stay here.”

“Why?” Harry asked, concerned.

Sirius snorted. “Well, they’re an annoying type of ward. The only people who put them on houses they’re actually living in are psychotic paranoids like my parents. Just imagine actually having to personally go answer the door every time someone not directly of your blood line wanted to enter the house. It’d be a nightmare. You could never have anyone visit. If we’d stayed in the house on Grimmauld Place longer – and I’m very glad we didn’t – I’d be sure to change the wards to something that other people could unlock if I told them how to. Much more logical.”

Harry smirked at Sirius, forgetting for just a moment that he was standing mere feet away from where his parents might have died, and where he spent a year living with them, cared for and loved.

“I’ve stayed at Grimmauld Place, remember? I think it’s pretty unlikely that anyone would ever actually want to visit. Not like this place,” he said, staring around the entrance way and through to the living room. “My parents had a good thing set up, by the looks of it. I’d visit here any day.”

Sirius sniffed, obviously a little bit offended, though Harry couldn’t imagine why. “Well, it’s the principle of it, though, isn’t it? I’d like to know that people could visit if they wanted to. And they would want to, if I was there.”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry, Sirius, but not even you being there could make me go back to the Black house. It’s creepy.”

Sirius shrugged. There really wasn’t much he could say to that, since it was nothing but the truth.

The two men entered the house, peering about. It seemed extraordinarily clean, though the air smelled … well, old. It seemed as though it might have been looked after, though Harry couldn’t imagine who would have done so, especially with the wards. When Harry mentioned it, Sirius smirked.

“That, I’m guessing, would be the Ministry’s idea of a memorial. Sentimental, aren’t they? For all that they didn’t want tourists tramping around the place, taking advantage of it, I’m betting they wanted it to stay clean and tidy and pretty much like it was at the time. Likely, they cleaned the place up a bit, and then put a preservation spell and the wards up and having done anything to it, since. Their own wards would have locked them out.”

“Good,” Harry said. “It would have been a bit weird if people had been in and out of the place all the time. I don’t think I’d like the idea that someone who has never even lived here has spent more time in the house than I have.”

“So you like it?” Sirius asked.

“Yes. I’d like to see upstairs still, but yes.”

“And you’d … you wouldn’t mind staying here?” Sirius prodded, though Harry could tell that he wasn’t trying to push him, as eager as he sounded.

“No. My parents might have died here, but they also raised me here. I might have still been living here if not for Voldemort. I’d like to have a chance to spend time in a place where I know that I was accepted and loved.”

“Your parents loved you like nothing else in the world, Harry,” Sirius reassured him, placing an arm across his shoulders. “You shouldn’t need a house to tell you that.”

“I … I don’t. Of course I don’t. Mum loved me more than her own life, or I wouldn’t be here right now, and Dad sacrificed himself to give us both a chance to save ourselves. I know that. But it’s still … it was here that they spent time with me, you know? It’s a big thing. I wish I remembered it. I would love to have some memory of them.”

“I wish you did as well.”

* * * * * * * * * *

That night, Harry and Sirius didn’t even attempt to organise alternative sleeping arrangements. There was one bed in the house. They would end up in it together by the end of the night, in all likelihood. As such, it seemed foolish not to save themselves time and effort and just officially share the bed. Maybe their nightmares might be averted before they began that way.

It made Harry a little uncomfortable that Sirius still slept as a dog. Though there was the possibility that he might be even more uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as his godfather if they were both sleeping together as real men, he worried for the state of Sirius’ mind, that he didn’t feel safe falling asleep unless he was ‘protected’ by his Animagus transformation. However, he didn’t want to bring it up with Sirius for fear that his godfather would be upset with him. He didn’t want Sirius to stop talking to him, like Ron sometimes did. They were each all the other had, stuck in that house. Though his days were filled with research and attempts to break the two Horcruxes they currently had, Harry thought that his nights would be extremely lonely if Sirius wasn’t there to fill them.

These days, they had each meal together and spent an hour or so at night discussing what they’d found during their respective research attempts in the daytime, among other things.

At times, Harry wished he could have dragged Hermione with them simply so that he could devote more time to talking to Sirius rather than researching. She would be far more efficient at looking through the hundreds of books they’d stored away in what must have been Harry’s room when his parents were alive. On the other hand, though, Harry quite enjoyed being alone with Sirius. It was … comfortable. There was nothing he wouldn’t tell Sirius. He wouldn’t have felt that same freedom with Hermione or Ron there.

It was strange, really. He’d known his godfather barely any time at all, in the grand scheme of things, yet he had placed his trust in him more than anyone else in his life. Remus had the same sort of effect on him, he supposed, but Sirius was … well, he was Sirius. If you couldn’t open up to Sirius, there was something wrong with the world, because he was such an open person himself.

Of course, as much as Harry was coming to really love being with Sirius as the days went by, he knew very well that his godfather wasn’t the most stable of men. Azkaban had affected him more than he liked to admit, but sometimes Harry could tell that he was confused, or had forgotten certain things that he really should remember. He called Harry ‘James’ once. After the devastated look Harry knew had crossed his face for the second before he reeled it in, he didn’t think Sirius would ever do it again. His godfather had apologised for nearly an hour straight before Harry had managed to convey to him that it was okay. It wasn’t really, but he understood, and that was enough.

* * * * * * * * * *

Remus stopped by about three weeks after they’d moved into Godric’s Hollow, as his parents had named the property.

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” he exclaimed when Harry answered the door for him, after verifying his identity. He pulled Harry into a strong hug

“It’s not my birthday,” Harry countered, surprised.

“It is tomorrow,” Remus told him, smiling. “Time’s flown hasn’t it? Sirius sent me an owl asking if I was available to stay the night. The full moon’s not for a fortnight yet, so I managed to leave the pack for a night. I didn’t want to miss your big birthday.”

“That’s right!” Sirius exclaimed from behind him. “It’s the big 17! You’ll be officially an adult tomorrow.”

“I had no idea it was that late,” Harry said, gob smacked.

Sirius smirked. “I knew you’d probably forgotten. I figured we could make it a complete surprise.”

Remus elbowed Sirius lightly in the side. “I’m surprised you didn’t let it slip. You were never good with secrets.”

A haunted sort of look entered Sirius’ eyes at that. Remus, seeming to realise instantly that he’d reminded Sirius about the mistake that they’d all made a silent agreement not to talk about unless absolutely necessary, quickly changed the topic.

“Oh, Sirius, here you go.” Remus passed a long thin package to Harry’s godfather with a grin. “Even though you’re not the birthday boy, I decided you just do with a present. It won’t be a perfect fit, but it should be serviceable.”

It was, of course, a wand. Finally, Harry would have his own wand solely to himself once again. It wasn't like he wasn’t happy to help Sirius out by sharing it, but he’d been getting a bit tired of not having any idea where it was at any given time.

The two older men left Harry alone to research for an hour or two before lunch, which turned out to be particularly delicious today. Though Harry had never expected it, Sirius was a decent cook. This, however, was on a whole new level. When Harry voiced this opinion, Sirius glared at Remus. Ah, that would explain it.

“Not that your cooking isn’t always delicious, Sirius,” he quickly added on. “I wish I knew how to cook using magic. I never really picked up those useful little spells that can be used for basic cleaning and cooking and the like. Hogwarts doesn’t really cover that in its curriculum. I suppose they expect us to know it all beforehand, even though there are a fair few Muggleborns who couldn’t possibly have been exposed to them.”

Sirius and Remus shot each other a mischievous sort of look. Harry wasn’t sure whether he should be worried or not.

“How would you feel about taking an afternoon off from research, Harry?”

In the aftermath of an entire afternoon spent with Remus and Sirius trying to teach Harry how to cook the magical way and generally messing about in the kitchen, he decided that he felt very good about it indeed. Harry hadn’t ever considered until that day that Remus might be as much of a trouble-maker and prankster as Sirius if he put his mind to it.

“So, have you enjoyed the lead-up to your birthday so far?” Sirius asked.

“It’s been brilliant,” Harry breathed.

One of their cooking experiments became dinner. They sat around the kitchen table, covered in all kinds of cooking ingredients that they hadn’t bothered to wash off yet, laughing and joking as if they’d all been this close for years. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Sirius so happy for so long. He wished for the thousandth time that they didn’t have to spend all their time looking for information on the Horcruxes, so that they could spend more time like today, just bonding and joking around.

He had a feeling that it was helping all three of them, but Sirius most of all. He hadn’t really laughed like this since he’d been taken away from Azkaban, and not for at least fifteen years prior to that. Harry regretted that he hadn’t thought about that in advance. He would have taken a day off if it had occurred to him that the damage done to Sirius due to his imprisonment was affecting his days as well as his nightmares.

While Sirius was showering off – he was the last to do so – Harry pulled Remus aside and told him his worries about Sirius sleeping in his dog form.

Remus seemed to share his concern. “So you’ve been sharing a bed,” Remus said, and Harry could tell that he was carefully trying not to think too hard about that, “but he’s still worried that something will happen to him if he’s not protecting himself?”

“I think so,” Harry shrugged. “I’m not really a psychologist.”

Remus nodded. “Right. So it’s not really an issue of comfort. Maybe if he’s around something familiar to him from before Azkaban, he’ll forget about the risk to some extent. I think after he’s gone to sleep and woken up in human form once with nothing bad happening, it should be a lot easier to do it again afterwards.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re suggesting, though,” he admitted.

Remus smiled grimly. “Why don’t you go try to catch up a bit on the research? Come over to the main bedroom just before midnight so we can properly see your birthday in. If I haven’t succeeded by then, I’ll have to try to come up with another plan.”

Harry complied with this and ended up spending about three and a half hours looking through books that were largely useless before the clock hit ten minutes to midnight. He shook himself properly awake – research always seemed to put him nearly to sleep – and headed into the other bedroom.

Remus and Sirius lay on the bed together curled around each other, much like Harry and Sirius did while Sirius slept as a dog. However, Sirius was still in human form. Though Sirius was completely immobile and breathing deeply, Remus was obviously still awake. He met Harry’s eyes and smiled.

“You did it,” Harry said quietly. “How?”

“He used to fall asleep a lot when we would sit up talking in my bed. It was a familiar situation for him, I’m guessing.”

Harry wanted to be happy, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that Remus had succeeded in helping Sirius after spending only a day with him when Harry, after living with him for nearing two months, had failed repeatedly. No, he knew exactly how he felt. It was the same way he’d felt when he’d watched Ginny with Dean earlier in the year. He was jealous. Almost violently jealous, in fact.

Remus, wise man that he was, seemed to sense this almost instinctively.

“There was nothing more you could have done. You helped him by telling me what was wrong. I could never have helped if it wasn’t for you.”

Harry shook his head stubbornly. He felt a strange need to cling to his anger.

“It wasn’t enough,” he muttered. “He can’t possibly care as much about me as he does about you, if he’s willing to fall asleep in your arms like that, but not mine.”

Remus’ eyes widened and a strange expression came over his face. If Harry didn’t know better, he might have called it a mixture between surprise, helplessness and … jealousy? However, he was fairly certain he was just seeing in Remus what he felt himself. Sirius had made it very clear that Remus no longer felt that way about him, and what else would the man have to be jealous of?

“You …” Remus began, but trailed off. “Oh, Harry. Sirius loves you, at least as much as you love him, if not more. You need to trust me on that.”

“He loves you,” Harry insisted.

Remus shook his head. “Of course he does. We’re old friends. But it doesn’t even compare to how much he cares for you.”

Remus was speaking so strangely, as if he was trying to hint at something. Harry had never been particularly observant, though, so he had no idea what his new friend might be getting at.

“It’s midnight,” Remus eventually said. He nudged Sirius, who groaned tiredly but did manage to open his eyes. It was clear that he was confused and a little disoriented, so he obviously had realised that he was in human form.

“Sirius, it’s Harry’s birthday. It’s just now ticked over to midnight.”

Sirius blinked a few times in bewilderment. “Oh,” he said. Then his eyes fell on Harry standing in front of the bed. “You’re seventeen, kiddo,” he said, grinning.

“I’m not a ‘kiddo’ anymore,” Harry returned happily. “I’m officially an adult, remember?”

“Absolutely,” Sirius agreed before breaking into a loud yawn. “And if I wasn’t so bloody tired, we’d be getting piss drunk right now to celebrate. It might have to wait until tomorrow, eh?”

Harry smiled. “Sure. We should probably sleep, then.”

Remus nodded, extracting himself from Sirius’ tight grip. “I’ll be downstairs on the couch, if you need me.”

Harry bit his lip. He really did want the bed to himself with Sirius, but then … Remus was such a great guy, and he was obviously good for Sirius. Surely one night with company couldn’t hurt.

“Er … you can stay up here, if you like. There’s room in this bed for ten body-builders, let alone three stick-thin men.”

Remus looked very much like a deer being rushed by a werewolf, which seemed highly ironic to Harry.

“Are you sure? Sirius?”

Sirius shrugged. “Suits me, as long as the sleeping can happen right now. As in, no arguing.”

Remus nodded. “Right. But you won’t be able to turn into a dog, Sirius. I know you. You’ll take up the whole bed if you’re Padfoot.”

Sirius looked panicked for a long moment.

“We’ll be here, remember?” Harry murmured reassuringly, slipping into the bed behind Sirius and wrapping an arm around him. “Nothing to worry about.”

It took Sirius about an hour to stop shifting about nervously, but eventually Harry felt his godfather’s breathing even out. He breathed a sigh of relief and let himself drift into his own deep sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry’s actual birthday was spent drinking and playing, of all things, Truth or Dare. They’d even used a mild truth potion. While it did not compel the drinker to tell the truth, it did turn their face a bright scarlet colour when they were lying. Sirius’ face was red almost more often than it was its normal colour. If Harry didn’t know better, he would have suspected that he liked the way it looked on him.

They stayed away from certain topics by mutual but unspoken consent. Generally, they stuck to events that occurred at Hogwarts either while Sirius and Remus were there or during Harry’s time there.

Harry was barely surprised to feel his face go hot as he said ‘yes’ to still being in love with Ginny. He certainly still liked her, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had ever loved her, really. What he’d felt for her was nothing like how he felt for Sirius – or even Remus, really – and he wasn’t even dating them.

Sirius seemed surprised when Harry asked him whether he loved him.

“Of course I do. How could you even doubt that?”

They stared at each other strangely for a while before Remus broke it up.

“Well, that may have been a waste of a question,” Remus half-slurred, “but you don’t get another one. You’ll just have to pick more wisely next time, Harry. My turn!”

Hours later, when the alcohol finally began wearing off, Remus had to leave. They didn’t even have time to have dinner first, since they’d completely lost track of time and Remus needed to be getting back to Fenrir and the other werewolves before darkness fell. Harry wished he could have stayed a little longer so that they could have made the most of their time together. Remus might be stuck with the pack for months before they saw him again, after all.

When he was gone, Sirius and Harry simply looked at each other.

“Have you had a good day?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. “The cake was great, and Truth or Dare was awesome as well, though I’m not sure I wanted to know as much about what you lot got up to when you were my age as I do now. Yesterday was good, as well. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Sirius smiled. “So there was nothing else you wanted to do today. Nothing missing?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Sirius’ smile widened to a teasing grin. “Not even opening presents?” he asked. He walked into the living room and seconds later had returned with a long thin package.

“That’s not … is it?” Harry breathed, reaching for it.

“Open it.”

Harry found that it was indeed a racing broom. In fact, it was a Firebolt, which was still the fastest and best model on the market.

“I got Remus to go buy it with money from my vault when he was getting my wand and bring it along with him. I know Quidditch doesn’t hold much appeal right now, with everything else going on, but I also know how much you still love flying.”

“It’s … it’s too much,” Harry protested shakily. Harry didn’t know how much a Firebolt cost, exactly, but he had a feeling it would have made his vault look a lot emptier, at least.

“Sixteen years worth of birthday and Christmas presents missed, remember,” Sirius pointed out. “Think of it as an accumulative present.”

Harry threw the arm that wasn’t holding the magnificent broom around his godfather.

“Thank you so much,” he whispered.

“Are you going to try it out?” Sirius asked.

Harry’s stomach seemed to flip over with excitement. “Just try to stop me.”

It was nearly pitch black outside by the time Harry was done diving and spinning and generally testing the limits of his new broom. His battered old Nimbus was no match for the sheer speed and handling of the Firebolt. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything quite so wonderful before, let alone had something like this given to him. He was generally pleased enough when he received something like a Weasley jumper as a gift.

When Harry and Sirius were back inside and Harry had reverently propped the new broom near the door for safekeeping, Sirius turned to Harry with an intense sort of look in his eyes.

“I love you, you know,” he said.

Harry nodded happily. “Yeah. I know. We established that when I asked you earlier, remember? Not that I shouldn’t have already known that. You’re not just my godfather, after all. You’re one of my best friends. I can’t believe that I’ve only known you for a few months.”

Sirius shook his head, looking a little frustrated with Harry for a moment. “No, Harry. That’s not it. Well, of course, we are friends, don’t get me wrong, but … Merlin, I always bollocks these things up, don’t I? I’m in love with you.”

Harry just stared for what might have been hours for all he knew. Finally, the ability to speak returned to him. “Oh,” he said. Well, speech or not, he still apparently wasn’t very articulate. He tried again. “Oh! Wow. That’s … wow.” Yeah, that was much better. He cursed his own stupidity.

Sirius looked uncertain. “I’ve grown used to you saying that I’ve scarred you forever whenever I say something potentially scandalous to you. I don’t know whether this is an improvement or not. I think I miss the other reaction, really.”

Harry frowned. “Should I actually be scarred for life, though?” he asked.

Sirius shrugged. “Well,” he began, “I am your godfather. That’s a pretty good argument against what I feel for you. If I remember correctly, you’ve even used it before. Feel free to use it now, if you like.”

Harry looked nonplussed. “You haven’t really acted all that much like a godfather since I met you, though,” he reminded Sirius.

Sirius looked upset at that. “I’m sorry,” he murmured with his eyes downcast.

Great. Harry had messed everything up as per usual. He’d better think quickly, or Sirius would never be honest with himself again. Right. Harry Potter thinking quickly. Sirius was doomed.

“No, it’s okay,” he eventually managed to say. “If you had acted like my godfather at any point, it might make this a little awkward.”

Harry leaned into Sirius and pressed his lips against the other man’s. Sirius reached out tentatively and ran his hand against Harry’s cheek as he responded to the kiss. Harry broke away for air and pulled his face slowly away, meeting Sirius’ eyes as he took a step back.

“See? This way it’s not at all awkward,” he said as dispassionately as he could manage with his breath coming in gasps of arousal.

Sirius looked like he had no idea what he was meant to do now.

“Not at all awkward,” he agreed. They stood staring at each other in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Sirius cheerfully suggested, “So, dinner?”

Harry jumped at the proposal. “Yes! Let’s go! I’m starving. Famished. I could eat a horse. I could eat almost anything.”

Sirius smirked saucily, suddenly seeming much more comfortable and in his element. “We’ll never get around to dinner if you make claims like that!”

Harry groaned. “Okay, yep. There it is. I'm scarred now. It’s more to do with you being a horny pervert than my godfather, though … You know, I take it back. This is definitely awkward. I didn’t know I liked you that way until just now. Hell, I’m not sure I’m even gay. I liked Ginny and Cho, even though I didn’t really … It just seems weird. Is it weird?”

Sirius half shrugged. “No, it’s fine. It’s really actually quite normal,” he assured Harry. “In fact, I’m not gay either. Woman are …” he trailed off as if unsure what exactly he thought women were. “No, wait, I lie,” he admitted with a sigh. “I’m as bent as they come. There goes any chance of a bisexual bonding session. But even so, I do know that there’s nothing wrong with liking both men and women.”

“What about the sudden liking of my godfather, whether he acts like it or not? Is that weird?”

Sirius shrugged. “Spontaneous attraction?” he suggested innocently.

Harry laughed. “I think you’re thinking of spontaneous combustion, and please don’t. Combust, that is. For my sake. I’d hate to lose you now.”

Sirius snorted. “Thanks, I think. It’s nice to know that you like me, and that you’re actually worse at this than I am … So is this where we fall into bed and shag madly?”

Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather. “You wish,” he shot back. “I’m not that easy.”

Sirius pouted. “You’re no fun. Why couldn’t you be a normal teenage boy?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Then you wouldn’t love me.”

Sirius smiled roguishly. “Maybe not. However, I would be getting shagged right now, which might be nearly as good.”

“And I’d be going hungry. Right now, dinner would be better than even sex.”

“You’re so far from a normal seventeen-year-old that I think I’m worried.”

* * * * * * * * * *

It took Harry two days before he worked up the nerve to kiss Sirius again. Even then, it was only because he was so pleased about finding a possible way to destroy the cup and locket.

He wasn’t entirely to blame, though. The morning after they’d had their first lip-to-lip encounter, Sirius had grown suddenly distant toward him. Harry had tried to find out what was wrong, but Sirius had simply given him empty excuses. Harry had suspected that Sirius had read some bad news in the books. He wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the Horcruxes turned out to be indestructible.

The problem was that the Horcruxes Harry had previously destroyed were much less durable than the two solid metal objects he had to break. He wished he’d had time to ask Dumbledore how exactly he’d destroyed the ring before the Headmaster had died. As it was, he was stuck looking for the information in books.

Upon coming across something that looked vaguely helpful for the first time since they’d started researching, Harry decided that he had no idea what Sirius could be so upset about, because it didn’t look at all like it was a hopeless case. Not from where Harry was sitting, at least.

When Sirius came over after Harry had called for him so that he could tell him the news, Harry was so excited that he didn’t realise quite what he was doing until he was pressed against Sirius from head to toe, including lips.

The kiss was one of almost surprise at first, and began very chaste. However, it quickly became desperate. Harry could practically taste how much Sirius wanted him. It was a heady feeling, being needed like that, especially when combined with his own yearning for more of Sirius.

He did break away after Sirius slid a hand down to Harry’s nipple and tweaked it through his shirt, sending a shudder through Harry’s entire body.

“I want you so much right now,” Harry sighed. “But I found something about the Horcruxes. That’s more important right now.”

Sirius groaned in frustration, but nodded. “Yes. You’re right. But don’t do that to me again, or I won’t be held responsible for flipping you over and having my way with you right where you are.”

And here Harry had thought he couldn’t possibly get any harder.

“I found something helpful,” Harry said, trying to drag his mind back onto what it should be thinking about. “This book talks a bit about the fact that objects that are possessed, and how to free the soul, simply breaking the object isn’t always enough. It says we might have to perform an exorcism of sorts. I don’t think there’s actually a spell for that, though.”

Sirius nodded. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. That kind of magic is all about intention, and so it’s extremely difficult. Doubly so on inanimate objects, I’m guessing.”

Harry groaned. “Right. That’s going to suck. The Horcruxes have no will power of their own. It’s going to be like someone without an ounce of will power breaking the Imperius?” he asked.

Sirius sighed. “Spot on. Only, you’ll be able to become its will, to some extent. You have to thrust a great deal of your own power into the object, and some of your own will power becomes infused in it. It’s that that drives the soul out of the object. But Harry, doing this could seriously hurt you.”

Harry glared at Sirius. “Do you think I care about that? I have to do it. It’s the only way to get rid of Voldemort, isn’t it, and there’s no way that I’m giving up on that!”

Sirius sighed. “Harry, no. I’ll do it. It makes no sense to risk you; you’re the only one who can defeat him in the end, remember. That means that you have to actually make it to that final battle intact.”

Harry shook his head stubbornly. “I have a stronger will.” Sirius raised his eyebrows, affronted. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I can break the Imperius completely within a few seconds of it being put on me. Even Voldemort’s. I’m less likely to be hurt in the attempt.”

Sirius growled. “Harry …”

“No! You may be my godfather and my … boyfriend, or whatever we are now, but you can’t tell me what to do when it comes to this. If you can’t trust me, I can’t be with you.”

Sirius looked stunned and conflicted. “I can’t just let you do this,” he said finally. “I love you. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Harry reached out and pulled Sirius closer to him. “I won’t be,” he whispered into Sirius’ ear. “I promise you that I’ll be fine.”

Sirius seemed indecisive still, but nodded in acquiescence regardless.

“Right. But I think that I’ll get some rest first, just to be sure.”

It wasn’t until they lay down that Harry realised that the fact that they had kissed again had somehow obviously made their relationship seem less surreal or something, because it was much harder to lie beside Sirius and not do anything than it had been the previous night, or the night before that. They couldn’t do anything now. He was supposed to be resting to restore his energy, not burning it by getting involved with extremely physical activity.

Harry pulled Sirius closer so that he could see his godfather’s face in the dark and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Everything will be all right,” he murmured. It was still vaguely strange to comfort his godfather, rather than the other way around, but it was kind of nice as well. He liked knowing that he could help Sirius.

Harry tried to fall asleep, still pressed close to Sirius’ body and trying to ignore their twin erections so close to each other that if he moved just a little …

Harry slept fitfully. Sirius remained awake and alert, watching over the man he loved – his godson – as if the possibility of him hurting himself was going to physically manifest and attack him in the night.

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry made it through exorcising the first object of Voldemort’s soul without permanently injuring himself, though it seemed to Sirius like a near thing. As it was, by the time they were sure that the locket was no longer a Horcrux, Harry was nearly collapsing from exhaustion.

After Sirius had helped Harry to the bedroom and the bed itself, he used Harry’s wand to transfigure a spoon that was lying in the sink into a large and extremely heavy sledgehammer. He then picked up the locket and took it outside so as not to disturb Harry.

Harry, who was not quite asleep, could hear the banging even from up in the bedroom. Even as tired as he was, he managed to stumble over to the window, where he could look down upon the older man. From there he watched Sirius repeatedly attack what looked like the locket Harry had just exorcised a seventh of Voldemort soul from with … a sledgehammer?

Harry would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t extremely worried about Sirius. That much rage built up in him wasn’t good; Harry knew that from first-hand experience. He’d felt like pounding a sledgehammer into Snape’s head every time he thought of Dumbledore, but he’d had months to think on it and discuss it with both Sirius and Remus. He was pretty sure that he didn’t want to kill anyone other than Voldemort, Snape included. He felt so much better about himself after realising that.

Sirius, on the other hand, looked that he’d very much like to kill the first non-Harry-shaped thing he found. Harry bit his lip as he heard Sirius curse angrily between swings and … sobs? It sounded like it. Also, he couldn’t tell for sure from this height – it might have just been sweat from the exertion of what he was doing – but to Harry it looked a lot like there were tears streaming down Sirius’ face.

There was something definitely wrong. This wasn’t simply fear that Harry was going to hurt himself trying to de-Horcrux the Horcruxes. There was something else going on that he couldn’t quite see.

Whatever it was, Sirius wasn’t telling. When Sirius returned up to the bedroom, Harry asked him once again what was wrong.

“Nothing. I’m just worried for you, Harry,” he replied.

Harry didn’t believe him for a moment, but he was so tired that he couldn’t even find the energy to put up a real fight about it.

Harry fell asleep and slept any way but soundly once more. This time Sirius slept as well, for he was so exhausted that he could no longer ignore his body’s needs. However, he slept as restlessly as the younger man he held in his arms.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day Harry was still a little weak but wouldn’t take no for an answer. He performed the second exorcism and once again drained himself completely. This time, however, he fell immediately unconscious. Sirius had to drag him up to bed.

But he had lived. That was the most important thing in the world to Sirius. That was what he cared about more than anything else in the world, even his own wellbeing.

Sirius angrily wiped tears from his face. He was going to pull himself together. He was going to be there for Harry. And he was going to try to save the boy from his fate if at all possible.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said.

Harry looked up from the plate of porridge he was eating for breakfast.

“Sorry?” he asked.

“For lying to you. I told you nothing was wrong. I lied.”

Harry set his spoon down expectantly.

“I came across something in one of the books that I was reading that really scared me. I’m not worried anymore, though, so you shouldn’t be either,” he quickly added when Harry opened his mouth to ask what Sirius had found. “I thought about it a lot over the last few days, and it’s nothing for you to be worried about.”

Harry had to trust Sirius about this, because there was nothing else he could do. The trouble was that he still wasn’t sure that he did trust even his godfather to disclose everything to him. He supposed all those years of Dumbledore hiding things from him had affected him more than he realised.

“Are you sure?” he asked, watching Sirius’ face carefully for any sign that he was lying.

“Absolutely.”

Harry bit his lip and leaned back into his chair, averting his eyes back to his porridge. Sirius’ eyes hadn’t given anything away, but that wasn’t to say that there wasn’t anything there. He glanced at Sirius once more. The older man looked earnest, at least. Harry picked up his spoon once more and finished his porridge.

“Are you feeling better today?” Sirius asked as he walked over to Harry’s side.

Harry nodded, swallowing the last mouthful of his breakfast. “After sleeping for about twenty hours straight, I should,” he mused.

Sirius bent down and kissed Harry on the forehead. Harry closed his eyes and savoured the warm lips on his face. Sirius, thus, caught him completely unawares when he kissed Harry on the mouth. Harry jerked away, laughing.

“I taste like porridge,” Harry told Sirius.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. “I like porridge,” he replied.

Harry was swept up into Sirius’ arms, and from there was carried upstairs and dumped on their bed.

“Are you going to have your wicked way with me now?” Harry asked jokingly.

Sirius suddenly looked eager. “Why? Do you plan to let me?”

Harry shrugged. “I suppose that all depends on your performance,” he replied nonchalantly. “You are, after all, quite a bit older than me. I’m not at all sure that you’d be as … eager for it as I’d be.”

Sirius laughed in his hoarse, barking sort of way, flopping down on the bed beside Harry and reaching for the top of the row of buttons on Harry’s shirt.

“Oh, I’m eager, you tease,” Sirius breathed against Harry’s neck. Harry shuddered slightly in anticipation.

It was sudden, but it felt somehow right that his first time with Sirius – with anyone – should be a complete surprise to him. Everything else in his life was, so why should this be any different?

As Sirius divested Harry slowly of his shirt, his mouth followed his hands down Harry’s chest, and then Harry’s stomach. As the last button came undone and the shirt felt open, Sirius paused at Harry’s naval.

Ginny had done this to him once, but it hadn’t felt even half as good. Harry had a feeling that had little to do with the amount of experience of the performer, and more with who the person performing actually was.

Sirius pulled away after a while and looked at his prize.

“Huh,” he scoffed. “I could have sworn playing Quidditch was supposed give a man muscles.”

Harry poked his tongue out at his about-to-be lover. “Do you mind?” he asked. “I have low self-esteem.”

Sirius laughed. “Do you now? Well, in that case, I wish my body was as awesomely hot as yours! You’re so sculpted I can’t believe you aren’t a god! Can we have sex now, Mr Low Self-Esteem?”

Harry grinned. “You know,” he mused, “I really thought that I was the seventeen-year-old boy in this relationship.

“I haven’t gotten any for nearly two decades!” Sirius whined, giving Harry big pleading eyes.

Harry shrugged. “Well, nor have I.”

Sirius stopped everything he was doing and gave Harry a blank look. “Oh, you’re … You’re a virgin? How could I possibly have missed that question during Truth or Dare? What kind of godfather am I, that I didn’t take the opportunity to make fun of your inexperience?”

Harry scowled. “Do it now,” he warned, “and you won’t get laid for yet another decade.”

Sirius poked his tongue out this time. His face then went sober. “Seriously though, Harry, I’m sorry. If I realised I would have toned done the pushing for sex. Maybe.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Harry contradicted. “That’s fine, though. I’m ready. I want this.”

The whites of Sirius’ teeth flashed dazzlingly at Harry. “You have no idea how hot you look saying that.”

“What can I say? I’m practically a god, remember?”

Sirius smirked. “Right you are. So how may I serve you, your godliness?” he asked, while at the same time undoing Harry’s trousers.

“Er,” Harry gasped, his breath shortening as his level of arousal grew. “What you’re doing is … oh! Just fine.”

Sirius looked up from where he had just bitten Harry’s hipbone playfully. “I thought it might be,” he returned cockily.

Harry melted into the sheets. He was pretty sure that he didn’t solidify again until several hours after Sirius had finished with him.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Harry awoke, Sirius was sucking on his nipple.

“Mmm … morning,” he breathed, thrusting his chest up into Sirius’ mouth. Sirius lightly bit down before releasing him.

“Evening, actually. I can’t believe how long you slept, considering you slept for practically an entire day only yesterday.”

Harry shrugged languidly. “Take it as a compliment, if you like. You wore me out.”

Sirius flicked Harry’s other nipple with his fingernail, drawing a groan out of his young lover. “So much for teenage stamina.”

“I don’t think that my performance the day after I used all of my energy to do dangerous and difficult magic twice is a great measure of my stamina,” Harry shot back, sounding for all the world as if he was carefree. He knew that his insecurity must have been shining in his eyes, though, because Sirius reached up and cupped his cheek comfortingly.

“I have no complaints about your performance, trust me.”

Sirius trailed his fingers lightly down toward Harry’s erection. Harry groaned and thrust up into the air, not finding the friction he suddenly so desperately needed.

Sirius placed his hand firmly on Harry’s stomach and pushed him softly back down onto the bed.

“As much as I’d like a repeat performance, I don’t think you’re quite up to it, yet.”

Harry wanted to argue that he was very much up to it, but then Sirius continued.

“Besides, as of yesterday, there is only one Horcrux and one Dark Lord for us to get rid of. I think we might need to consider the implications of that sooner rather than later.”

“Right. You’re right. So, are we still sure that the snake is our best bet for the last Horcrux?” Harry asked.

Sirius bit his lip. “Not sure, no, but the snake is the best option we have available. And if it’s the snake, that means you’re going to have to be ready to fight Voldemort straight away afterward, because where the snake is, he is, and he’ll be spoiling for a fight if you destroy his Horcrux.”

Harry nodded. “Right. Two in one day. I can do that.”

Sirius squeezed Harry on the shoulder. “Of course you can. I know you can.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and just basked in Sirius’ confidence in him.

“So how do we find where they are?” Harry eventually asked, opening his eyes to look at his lover. His godfather and his lover in one, actually. Merlin, that was a strange way to think about it. However, it somehow mattered much less to him than it would have at an earlier stage in their relationship.

Sirius scowled. “That’s hurdle number one. I’m thinking that Remus might be a start. He’s infiltrated Greyback’s werewolves, by the sounds of it, and he told me that they tend to stay within a certain distance of their ‘Dark Lord’. If we can contact him, he might be able to lead us in the right direction.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Harry asked. He rather hoped it would, but it sounded almost too easy.

Sirius sighed. “Then we suck it in and go a little higher up the food chain. As much as I hate the snarky git, we may have to contact Snape.”

Harry scowled. He was pretty sure now that he could refrain from attacking Snape on sight. That didn’t mean that he had any particular desire to ever see the man again, though. The less the better, really. Temptation was an evil thing, after all.

Sirius kissed Harry’s chin. “It’ll be all right. Chances are that Remus will come through. And, if not, then I trust you not to do something that you’ll regret. If you trust yourself as well, then you won’t.”

Easier said than done, thought Harry, but he said nothing at all aloud. He merely huffed in response, which Sirius seemed to take as agreement.

“Right then, that’s settled. I’ll send Remus off an owl, and we’ll worry about the rest when we hear back from him.”

Harry nodded and pulled Sirius down on top of him, lining their bodies up as much as he could with their difference in height.

“Trying to get me to reconsider the ‘repeat performance’ thing?” Sirius asked with a rakish grin.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. I’m about to use bribery on you to make you cook me a very large and delicious dinner. I’m starving.”

“Oh?” Sirius replied innocently. “Well, I would need adequate incentive, of course …”

* * * * * * * * * *

Thankfully, Remus could indeed help. They received an owl back from him the following afternoon. Harry had not been looking forward to appealing to Snape’s nonexistent better nature at all, and was thankful to be spared from it.

The Dark Lord, presumably along with his snake, was located off in a field in Wales. Remus had given directions to the best of his abilities, and Harry felt fairly sure that he’d be able to Apparate within a reasonable distance of Voldemort’s hiding place. Hopefully he wouldn’t land directly on top of it and give himself away, though he wouldn’t really be surprised. Stealth was not exactly his middle name.

“So we’ll go soon then,” Harry said, though his voice sounded lifeless. He was going to have to put himself in mortal danger once again. How was he going to leave Sirius when he knew there was a large chance he’d never be able to come back to him.

“Tomorrow,” Sirius replied firmly. “They won’t move until tomorrow afternoon at the very earliest. Not if they’re still there now. You need time to prepare yourself mentally and get some rest.”

Harry nodded. Right. Rest. He’d been thinking more along the lines of shagging Sirius’ brains out for what could be the last time, but resting up was a good idea as well. Anything that might improve his chances of getting through the last part of his task alive had to be a good idea.

The last part of his task. Merlin, one way or another it would all be over tomorrow. After years of fighting against Voldemort, he could finally see the finish line, and with it the chance of a semi-normal life spent with Sirius at his side. He imagined, for the first time since hearing the prophecy, growing old. He might make it past the age of twenty. He shouldn’t have been so utterly amazed at the prospect, but he was. It was a huge deal. He could hardly breathe at the mere thought of it.

When he finally pulled himself back together, Harry found that Sirius was watching him with a strange look in his eyes.

“Harry, I just want you to know –”

“We aren’t saying goodbye, yet,” Harry cut in obstinately. “If I’m not going until tomorrow, then we’re going to sort everything out now so that I’m ready, and then we’re going to spend a few hours shagging and pretending that tomorrow is just another day, and then I’m going to sleep. If you still want to say whatever it is tomorrow, say it then.”

Sirius stared at Harry, taking in the adult that stood where a child must have been not all that long ago. Sirius had never met Harry the innocent boy. By the time they’d finally crossed paths, Harry had long since been hardened into a young man that had seen as much darkness as Sirius himself. Maybe, when it was over, Harry would find time to reclaim his youth and remember what it was to be a teenager, assuming he’d ever even known in the first place.

Sirius hoped that that would happen, because if not, that meant … It meant something he didn’t even want to contemplate.

“All right,” Sirius eventually ground out of his tight throat. “So that means that we’re talking now. What did we need to talk about?”

Harry frowned. “Well, a few things really. First, I don’t understand how we know that Voldemort hasn’t replaced the Horcruxes he knows are destroyed with new ones. We might never defeat him; he could just keep replacing them.”

Sirius shook his head. “I’ve seen him, and so have you. He’s barely human now as it is, with only six Horcruxes. If he made any more – separated any more parts of his soul – there wouldn’t be enough of his soul left in his body for him to function. His magic would suffer, as would his sense of himself. I know you’ve probably never seen anyone after they’ve been Kissed by a Dementor, but I’ll tell you now that it’s not a pretty thing. Death would be kinder. If Voldemort fears death, he must fear becoming a half-soulless being even more. He wouldn’t risk it, not even for immortality. He’d have to try another means all together of keeping himself alive, I’d say. I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Right. Okay. That makes sense. The other thing is that I’m having second thoughts about Nagini, the snake. What if it’s not a Horcrux? What even made Dumbledore think that it was in the first place? I don’t want to go in there and get myself killed just because I relied on blind faith alone.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “Well, I suspect that Dumbledore thought it was the snake for many reasons. But he knew that Voldemort had not made his last Horcrux when he attacked your family, and for him to have all six now means that his final Horcrux must have been something special that he came into contact with between then and now, probably while he wasn’t entirely corporeal.”

Harry frowned. “He came into contact with a lot of things. I’d never be able to find them all out.”

Sirius nodded. Harry saw a strange sort of fear in his eyes, and wondered whether he had struck on the crux of the matter. Sirius had found something in his research that had spooked him so much. That could very well have been the possibility of the Horcrux being something entirely different, perhaps even something indestructible.

“Yes,” Sirius said, “but it’s likely to be something he might protect in some way. Either hide away, or possibly keep near him at all times.”

“Like the snake,” Harry agreed.

“Right. Also, it’s liable to be something living.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, it’s easier to put a soul inside something living, of course.”

Harry snorted. “‘Of course’? How do you know something like that?”

Sirius practically preened, as if he was far superior to Harry. “Well, I am an Animagus, Harry, remember? I had to learn all about putting animal souls, or at least partial souls, inside human bodies, and vice versa. I know these things now, trust me. It makes sense for that to be why Dumbledore suspected it was the snake in the first place. Voldemort wouldn’t have had a body, and that would have made the magic harder. He would have been trying for the easier option, even if it probably wouldn’t have been best in the long run; living things are more likely to die than inanimate objects are likely to be destroyed, after all.”

Harry felt his heart sink down to somewhere in the vicinity of his intestines. “But … living … Sirius …” He couldn’t possibly be expected to articulate what he was thinking. It was far too horrible.

Sirius continued on heedless. “Of course, he seemed very cocky about it, so you’d think it would have to be something, or someone, that we’d never guess, or maybe –”

Harry cried out desperately, “Or maybe it’s me! Oh, Merlin, that’s what you found in the books! That’s why you’ve been so … I don’t know, angry. It makes sense, though I really wish it didn’t. I always thought the strength of my connection to him through my scar and my inheritance of parseltongue and all that was a bit odd, all things considered. Makes sense, though, if I’m carting bits of him around inside me, I suppose.”

Sirius shook his head in denial. “Harry, I really don’t think it’s you. There has to be another more logical explanation.”

“It is logical!” Harry shouted. “Answer me this, Sirius. Is this what you’ve been worried about? That the Horcrux might be me?”

Sirius looked away guiltily. “It seemed to be a possibility. But that’s all it is. There are other options,” he was quick to say. Harry turned away, his face displaying a pained expression. “There are a lot of others. The snake, Nagini, makes sense. That’s what Dumbledore thought, and I’ve rarely known Albus Dumbledore to be wrong about the big things in life.”

Harry refused to leave it be just because Sirius wanted him to. “It doesn’t make as much sense, though,” he pressed. “Maybe Dumbledore was just trying to protect me for a little longer. That’s what he always did, even when he really shouldn’t have.”

Sirius abruptly grew angry. He sported a snarl on his face that nearly made Harry reel backward when he demanded, “So what, you’re just going to kill yourself in the hopes that your theory is right?”

“Of course not!” Harry cried. “Merlin, Sirius, you couldn’t possibly understand how much I’m hoping that I’m wrong. Because if I’m right, then this has all been for nothing. It’s always been him or me, in the end, and I thought that by fighting him I was choosing to live … I don’t want to die.”

Harry was enveloped in Sirius’ arms in less than a second. “I won’t let you,” the older man promised.

“You won’t?” Harry asked softly, not even trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Sirius buried his face in Harry’s hair. “Of course not,” he murmured. “I love you.”

“What if that’s not enough?”

Sirius’ face went harsh with resolve. “I’ll make it be enough,” he swore.

“Sirius, what are we going to do?” Harry asked.

“We’re going to do exactly what we planned. It’s very likely that the Horcrux is Nagini. And if it is you there’s nothing you can do about it, so there’s no point in even thinking about it.”

Harry was not particularly mollified at that, but he did really want to take his mind off it. It has to be Nagini, he told himself. The final Horcrux has to be Nagini.

He had a feeling that that might become a mantra of sorts over the next twenty-four hours or so.

“Sirius?” Harry croaked into the silent room.

Sirius pulled away from Harry enough to look into the young man’s eyes.

“Could you … um, could we have sex now?”

Sirius nodded. “Of course.”

As Sirius prepared and entered his godson, they both recognised what they were doing for exactly what it was. It was a life-affirming action, of course; that much was a given. But even more than that, it was both a goodbye and a declaration of feelings.

Harry thrust up into Sirius, glad that they’d chosen a face-to-face position. He needed to see his lover, his godfather. He needed to remember what he was fighting for.

Harry cried out, Sirius’ name on his lips. Sirius responded in kind less than a minute later. As they slumped together on the bed, Sirius curling protectively around Harry’s body, Harry turned his head around and kissed Sirius before settling back into his position spooned against Sirius’ solid but bony chest.

“I love you,” Harry whispered. “I thought I should tell you that before …”

Sirius squeezed him a little tighter against his body in response. “I know. I love you too. Never forget that.”

“I don’t think I ever could.”

* * * * * * * * * *

When Harry left Godric’s Hollow late in the morning that next day, he and Sirius never uttered the promised goodbyes. It was as if by saying it aloud, it would make the whole thing real, and Harry couldn’t afford to consider the possibility of dying in his attempt to kill Voldemort, let alone having to die for Voldemort to be killed.

Instead, all they did was share a last lingering kiss. Harry clung to Sirius like a drowning man, though he managed to hold back his tears. He couldn’t have evidence of weakness like that when he went to face Voldemort. The dark wizard wouldn’t hesitate to exploit it. Such things could get Harry killed.

As he walked beyond the anti-Apparition wards on the property, with Sirius still standing back in the doorway of the house watching him leave, Harry wondered vaguely where the other people he cared about – those he didn’t even have the option of saying goodbye to – were right at that moment. He hoped that they were safe. He particularly hoped that Remus was away from the pack so that there would be no threat of him getting involved in what Harry now had to do. Harry would hate to see him get hurt or, unthinkable though it may be, killed, because of him.

Harry glanced one last time back at the house before he Apparated. Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

* * * * * * * * * *

It took Harry a little time to locate the campsite that the Death Eaters and Voldemort appeared to be staying in. From the thick patch of trees that Harry had Apparated into, Harry observed a few unkempt looking people, probably werewolves, milling around, but he saw no Death Eaters.

What he did see, all by itself and unprotected, was Nagini. He supposed that a snake that size could generally be relied upon to be able to defend itself from harm. However, Harry wasn’t really planning on giving the snake a chance.

It all went by in a blur. Harry raised his wand, took several steps forward and out of the trees so that he would have a clear shot, and cast two spells in quick succession:

“Sectumsempra! Incendio!”

The snake was gutted like a fish, and quickly went up in flames. If that didn’t kill it, Harry would be shocked as well as sorely disappointed.

Luckily, the snake quickly stopped twitching, the life having obviously gone out of it. Unluckily, the spectacle of a giant burning reptile creating something of a bonfire in the middle of the Death Eater camp attracted several of the Death Eaters themselves, as well as Voldemort trailing just behind them.

“Stand down!” Voldemort cried out to his dark-robed followers. “He’s mine.”

The Death Eaters obediently fell back as Voldemort stalked toward Harry. He got the feeling that he was the prey in this scenario. He was glad that his wand was already at the ready, for what little good he felt that it could do for him at that moment.

“Your Horcruxes are all gone, Voldemort! That was the last of them.”

Of all the things that Harry might have guessed to be Voldemort’s reaction to this declaration, laughter was not one of them.

“Nagini?” he asked incredulously. That gave Harry a really bad feeling in his chest. “Potter, why ever would you think that a snake I only came into contact with after I was exiled from my body would be a Horcrux?”

“You didn’t have enough until after you tried to kill me,” Harry replied, attempting to sound confident in his answer.

“Dumbledore told you that, did he? Well he was right, of course. The old meddler often was. I knew I needed to split my soul into seven pieces. I was planning on using your family’s demise as the necessary murders for my last Horcrux. Only, things did not turn out as planned. I did not have the opportunity to find the perfect final object. It’s no matter, though. Things turned out reasonably well, I think.

“Because you see, Potter,” Voldemort cackled, “now, with things the way they are, there’s only one way this can play out. The prophecy states that one of us must kill the other. Oh yes, I know the whole prophecy. Your mind relinquished that information to mine quite easily, let me assure you. You, however, cannot actually kill me. I cannot die when any of my Horcruxes are in existence. You will find that you cannot both destroy the final Horcrux and then go on to kill me.

“Would you like to know why? It is because you are my final Horcrux, Harry Potter, and since you are the only one with the power to defeat the other precautions against death I have taken, taking yourself out of the picture will not be enough to lead to my death. Once you are dead, I will stand unopposed. Be glad that you will not be there to see it.”

Harry was stunned. He’d tried so hard since the idea that it might be him first came to him to tune it out and forget that it was a possibility that he’d almost made himself believe it was impossible. He’d convinced himself it was the snake, of course it was, because even though fate hated his guts more than anyone else he’d met barring maybe Sirius and Remus, it could not have hated him quite that much, surely.

Though, somehow, Harry wasn’t all that shocked that the world was out to get him. It kind of followed the theme of the last seventeen-some years nicely.

“No,” Harry denied quietly nonetheless. He was naïve; what could he say? He didn’t want to give up on the nearly nonexistent chance that by saying it wasn’t true, he actually could make it a lie.

“Oh yes, Harry. You have fought against me for years for no reason. Even better, by actively opposing me you have drawn my attention to those you will be leaving behind. That little Mudblood girl should make a wonderful example, showing the wizarding world that wizards sprung from Muggles will be killed unless they comply with my wishes. And from those Weasleys I’m certain I can create an extraordinary show of what happens to blood traitors who oppose the way of Lord Voldemort. There are so many of them, after all. It might be interesting to kill each one in a different way, don’t you think? Perhaps I should kill the parents last so they can watch all of their children die for your precious cause.”

“No! Don’t touch them you bastard!”

“And your pet dog,” Voldemort continuing, smiling wickedly, “will make a lovely rug to place before my fireplace. When I tire of it, it will be in such an opportune place; it will be so easy to burn it, until there is no trace at all, and no one to remember it ever existed. They barely remember him now, and those few who do remember him don't do so very favourably.”

Harry clenched his fists by his side, but at the same time he felt an angry tear streaking down his face. He wiped it savagely away with the back of his fist, well aware that Voldemort had seen how upset he had made him. He hated himself for giving him that pleasure.

“If you’re going to kill me, I’m right here!” The voice drifted to them from a fair distance away, not far from where Harry had Apparated.

“Sirius!” he cried back. “Get out of here!”

“And you can stop lying to my godson, while you’re at it! It’s quite stupid to lie when there are others around who know and are very willing to tell the truth.”

Harry could hear the shouting as if from miles away. He could tell the direction from which it originated, over within the trees. However, he couldn’t actually see Sirius, and thus couldn’t go to him. He wished so badly that he could go to him. He knew that he was going to die quite shortly, but that somehow seemed to matter much less if he could say goodbye to Sirius this time.

When Sirius finally emerged from the foliage, Harry still remained stationary. He felt as if some unseen force had him solidly rooted to the ground. Perhaps, though, it was his subconscious reminding him that there were other important factors at play. He really shouldn’t turn his back to Voldemort, after all.

“You’d be surprised what books are in the Black library,” Sirius smirked. “There are a lot darker things than the Hogwarts Restricted Section will ever see. I found a book or two about Horcruxes. It was funny, but one book seemed to suggest that a witch or wizard who was dying – or even had already died not long before, if their magic was strong enough for them to hold onto – could sometimes cling to the physical world long enough to create a Horcrux. Only, the author also speculated that such a person wouldn’t have the magic required to make a durable object into a Horcrux. That sort of thing takes a lot of energy. Not like, say, the possession of a human being. And speaking of which, it also suggested that, supposedly, it takes less energy to make a person into a Horcrux because it’s so much like possession.”

“And that is when I made Potter my Horcrux, thus proving my point. Are you going to say something of interest soon, or will I kill you now?”

Sirius laughed. Harry thought it sounded a little bit insane and left him highly worried.

“I don’t think you will. In fact, by not killing me on sight, I think you’ve proven my point. You treated me like I was just your tool from the start, when you let me out of Azkaban. But if that was really the case, then I shouldn’t be useful to you anymore. I did what you got me out of Azkaban to do, for all that it helped you. Yet you still haven’t killed me. I’m not just your plaything, am I? There’s more to it.”

“Enlighten us as to the subject of your madness, please,” Voldemort drawled uninterestedly. Harry, however, thought that his jaw looked as if it was locked too tightly for Sirius to be as far off base as Voldemort was suggesting.

“That book that I was talking about earlier went a bit further in its musings,” Sirius continued. “It talked a lot about possession. One of the more interesting comments was that young people – generally toddlers and younger, who’ve yet to manifest their own magic – couldn’t be possessed because the influx of magic into their system would kill them.” Sirius paused to raise an eyebrow. “You spent years researching Horcruxes, so you must have known that. As such, I doubt little one-year-old Harry Potter looked like a prime Horcrux candidate.”

Harry’s heart leapt. It wasn’t him? There was a chance he could still live through this?

He wished he could kiss Sirius in relief, but it was hardly the time or the place.

Voldemort sneered. “So what? The fact remains that I still have at least one Horcrux, and that is assuming that you have not been wrong about any of the others. Remember, you’ve already been wrong at least once.”

Sirius shrugged. “You have one more Horcrux. Great. I agree. However, my story doesn’t end there, does it?

“Harry wasn’t the only person in the Potters’ house in the hours after you tried to kill him. I’m guessing that with the other Horcruxes in existence already, you were able to cling to your magic for at least long enough for Hagrid to arrive.”

“No.” Harry could hardly breathe. He couldn’t kill Hagrid. How could he possibly do that? Hagrid was the first friend he’d ever had.

Sirius was too far away to hear him. He continued on, oblivious of Harry’s imminent panic attack.

“Hagrid was half-giant, though. His magic is different to yours, and giants are somewhat impervious to things like possession and mind-reading. He was a better match than Harry, certainly; you might have succeeded if you were at full strength, but he was just too much for your diminished state.

“But then there was a third person, straight after Hagrid.”

Harry had seen Voldemort’s angry sneer increase in intensity as Sirius said this. Considering that he should really have been laughing at the unbelievable story Sirius was spouting out, Harry now thought that Sirius was definitely onto something.

“A fully-trained and reasonably powerful wizard from a dark sort of background. Not particularly likely to get himself killed, on the surface, though you could hardly have guessed he was the reckless sort. Luckily for you, he was locked away from all possible efforts to get himself killed. Able to be hidden away from view, like the rest of your Horcruxes. He was an almost perfect match, really. Imagine your delight,” Sirius mocked.

“You assumed that Harry wouldn’t know what happened that night. He doesn’t. I never told him. I found all this out before I even thought about telling him. It seemed a bit cruel to do so after that.”

Voldemort raised his wand portentously at Sirius, but nothing happened. Sirius seemed to expect as much, because he didn’t react to the threat at all.

“Are you going to kill me, your Lordship? I didn’t think so.”

Then he turned to Harry and started to walk towards him, albeit slowly. It would take him ages to reach Harry’s side, at that rate.

“Harry, all I wanted since I met you was to keep you safe,” Sirius called out as he approached. “To give you everything you wanted. And then you told me your deepest desire was just to live, and yet you were willing to sacrifice that for the wizarding world, most of whom you’ve never even met. You’re only seventeen, and you would die for all of us. I couldn’t imagine the kind of weight that’s been on your shoulders. You should never have had to deal with any of it. I couldn’t believe that you ever suspected that there was real darkness in you.

“Well, now what was once your responsibility is mine, and I’m willing to do the same, not for them, but for you.” Sirius seemed to abruptly stop in his tracks. He stood as still as Harry himself, regarding his lover across the distance that still separated them.

“In that moment, when you left to come here, even though I was a little angry at you for leaving me and putting yourself in harm’s way – irrationally, of course, because I’ve known for a long time that it would come to this – I loved you more than ever, and I would do anything to keep you alive. If that means I won’t be there to see it … that’s the way it has to be. I’m sorry Harry. I’m the last Horcrux. There’s nothing else for it.”

It couldn’t be, surely. But Sirius’ words reverberated in his brain.

“Sirius!” Harry shouted, his feet suddenly racing across the ground, heedless of the fact that the Dark Lord could at any moment start casting curses at his unprotected back. He barely cared, for he knew it had to be too late, anyway. Sirius had already turned his wand on himself, and his lips were moving. And then he was falling, and Harry’s heart seemed to skip a beat, because that couldn’t be it. That couldn’t possibly be how it ended.

Sirius wasn’t moving, though, and Harry had seen the green light all too well. Somewhere in his brain, he knew what that light meant. He’d seen what it could do too many times. And when Harry did reach Sirius’ side, after what seemed like hours of running toward him, the crumpled body never seeming to get closer no matter how quickly he forced one foot in front of the other, Harry wasn’t certain what to do. For one mad moment, he had half a mind to cast a reviving spell, or at least to fall down beside Sirius and cry for him, though that would have left him vulnerable to attack. He thought in that moment that he might actually have wanted Voldemort to strike him down, for how could he live without Sirius? He was Harry’s family. He was the only person Harry had really ever loved. It was worse than if the final Horcrux had really been him, because at least then he wouldn’t have had to live with this degree of pain. Could human beings, even magical ones, actually live through things that hurt that much?

In reality, he barely had a moment to take in the sight before a harsh cackle caused him to whirl around.

“He was always the smartest of his generation of Blacks,” Voldemort all but wheezed. Harry thought he seemed gleeful and upset at once. “His brother was a treacherous fool, his cousins … Bellatrix was mad long before Azkaban, the middle child was a dim-witted, Muggle-loving housewife, and the youngest, Lucius’ wife, is barely fit to even call herself a trophy wife. The two that made up the next generation were even more of a disappointment, especially since I had high expectations of the young Malfoy boy.

“But Sirius Black, oh, he would have been a prize to add to my Death Eaters. However, in a true embodiment of pureblood obstinacy, he rejected his family and his values, and even though those were my values as well, I greatly admired that essence of character. It was only the icing on the cake that he was the epitome of Gryffindor’s house, when in my previous searches I had not been able to find anything belonging to Gryffindor to make into a Horcrux. I decided he must be my final Horcrux when I saw him standing there, watching as you and Rubeus Hagrid, that oath, took off. It’s rather a pity he’s dead, for more reasons than one. And to think, the wizarding world will never even miss him, though he was one of the greatest wizards to come out of his generation.

“But you will not finish what he started. I need no Horcruxes to live if my only adversary is you. You aren’t even a qualified wizard. There’s nothing at all special about you.”

As if in a swarm of memories, Harry saw himself again and again performing feats that shouldn’t have been possible all because of strong emotion, and Dumbledore’s assertion that it was love that drove Voldemort out of his body when he had tried to possess him at the end of his fourth year, when the Imperius curse failed to work on him.

“You want to fucking bet?” Harry muttered. He raised his wand and aimed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Long after the incident that came to be known officially as the Battle of Sacrifices, (though all who were actually involved scoffed at this, since ‘the defeat of Lord Voldemort’ worked just as well, now that there was no real need not to say his name, and was certainly far less melodramatic) there would still be debate over what exactly transpired.

Some wizards claimed that Harry Potter defeated Voldemort by using all of his emotion to create a spell of greater power than Voldemort’s precautions could counter. Others supposed that Potter was somehow able to use the powers he had gained from Voldemort as a baby, powers the Dark Lord had failed to realise had been transferred, to beat the evil wizard at his own game. Others still said that he simply withdrew a Muggle knife and, in his rage at witnessing the murder of Sirius Black, planted it in the Dark Lord’s chest, which only worked because Lord Voldemort had never contemplated the possibility of dying by Muggle means. It was hard to tell, because the body had been completely incinerated by the time any Ministry officials arrived. Everyone speculated about that, as well; whether Potter had burned his enemy as some final revenge, or perhaps just as a sort of closure, or maybe (and probably) just to make sure it was over.

At least that way, there could be none of that one last scare rubbish that Muggle horror films seemed so fond of. A dead man was undeniably dead when he was little more than ashes being blown away by the wind.

Whatever the story truly was, Harry Potter himself certainly wasn’t telling. Whenever someone asked how he did it, he just gave them a bitter sort of smile and said that he hadn’t done it; it had been Sirius Black who had defeated Lord Voldemort. The press would have none of it, of course. Harry Potter had been destined to defeat the Dark Lord, the Chosen One, and he was the only one still alive at the end of the fight. Plus, he was a far more glamorous hero than a scraggly looking convicted murderer, and so that was that as far as they were concerned.

All that anyone could say for sure was that after Harry Potter allegedly defeated the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries, he failed to return to school, which was due to start not long after. The school was, of course, remaining open despite Dumbledore’s death, since there was no longer a threat of huge proportions due to which parents would fear being separated from their children.

The press had no idea where Harry Potter had gone. If pressed, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley might have said that Harry had initially returned to Godric’s Hollow for a short while, though he had long since moved on, and neither of them knew to where. Hermione was very quick, though, to point out that Harry intended to return to Hogwarts the next school year for a much less eventful school year than he’d become accustomed to. Even she didn’t believe the truth of her words.

For the moment though, as only Harry Potter himself knew, he was at Grimmauld Place. It had passed to him when Sirius died, since the man had apparently had the foresight to leave a will. Not that Harry particularly wanted to keep the place – it was really quite creepy, when it came down to it – but he was glad that the wards hadn’t deprived him of one last visit to one of the only places he’d felt remotely safe, and one of the places he’d been able to spend time with Sirius. Certainly, he had learned a lot more about Sirius and even Regulus during his short return there.

He found it ironic, of course, that he should return to the Black House after Sirius’ death when he’d told the man himself that not even him being there would ever make Harry go back.

He would have gone anywhere on earth if it meant he could see Sirius again.

But then, Harry had made up for the irony straight after his visit by doing what Sirius would have done if he could. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen a fire quite as big as the one that burned the house of Black to the ground. It had been … well, magical.

It had been his even shorter return to Godric’s Hollow that had prompted his return there. For all that he’d been nearly choked by bittersweet memories of Sirius, he’d decided that it truly couldn’t hurt to indulge them just for a little while. If he didn’t properly mourn while the hurting was fresh, he was worried that he might never be able to later, when and if his life had regained whatever form of balance could be called normalcy in his tumultuous world.

Then again, he wasn’t sure he would ever recover properly regardless. It was true, he found, what they said about there not really being life after war. Certainly, he could settle into a life. But it wasn’t really his life. His relationships all felt different. As he’d begun to realise after Dumbledore’s death, even Ron and Hermione seemed so much younger than him. How could they possibly understand him when they hadn’t had to repeatedly pour poison down a man’s throat as he begged them to just kill him, hadn’t had to murder someone just to stay alive, hadn’t had their first real lover kill himself for them in front of their very eyes. Those differences seemed to put years between them. Harry wished it wasn’t true, but there was nothing to be done for it. He’d wondered how much more pronounced it would be if he returned to Hogwarts the following year, as Hermione insisted to all who had listen that he would, and was forced to attend classes with individuals who were actually physically younger than him, never mind the psychological difference.

He found that he actually still got along quite well with Remus, even though neither the Order nor Sirius stood as a bridge between them any longer. Remus knew what emotional anguish and suffering was, and he knew how it felt to miss Sirius like a constant physical ache, and he knew not to press Harry to talk about it or to move on.

The owl post that found Harry as he travelled about, seeing those places of the world that were mostly untouched by Voldemort’s corruption, became face-to-face encounters once Harry returned to Britain. He enjoyed chatting away about inane things to a man that he knew already understood the more complex components of his character and life. And Remus also seemed to be the only person who wasn’t asking about his love life. He had suspected that something was happening back before Harry had even really considered it, and it had been confirmed to him the moment he’d seen Harry once again after Sirius’ death. It was the look in his eyes, he told Harry. It was different from how one would look after they lost a friend, or a parental figure. Harry tried not to remind himself just how Remus might have grown familiar with such a look.

As it was, Harry himself saw it far too often in the mirror. He’d seen in for the first time, not on the battlefield when Sirius had died, and not when actually looking at himself, but reflected in the script of a man who had not yet lost the person he loved, but rather knew that he was going to have to leave that person behind.

For that was what Harry had found at Godric’s Hollow, and what had inspired him to take the time first to remember Sirius, and then to remember that there was a world outside Voldemort’s influence. One letter, quickly scribbled sometime before Sirius had trailed after him on that last venture out to face Voldemort, had been left waiting for him on a bench. It said all that he and Sirius could not have said to each other in the heat of the moment, because they were really just too stubborn for either one of them to just say it. It read:


So here we go. The only godfatherly advice I’ll ever give you. Cherish it for me, will you? I’d hate it to go to waste. Well, you have your life ahead of you. You once told me that all you ever really wanted was to not have to die. Don’t stress about the future. Don’t mourn me, or focus on the past. Do something that really matters with your life, because otherwise you might as well have died with me. Live the moment as it occurs, and love as I loved you, as if I never hurt you like I’m sure I have. I don’t know if you loved me quite like that, though you told me that you loved me, and it doesn’t matter., Either way, you gave me something worth dying for, something no annoying dark wizards could ever take away. That’s all I ever really wanted.
All my love,
Sirius


It may not have been the romance of the century, but Harry had certainly cried over its loss when he read the note, as well as several times since then.

Merlin, he still had no idea what he was going to tell Ginny, who expected them to pick up where they had left off now that the main threat was gone and most of the Death Eaters had been captured. That relationship seemed decades ago. Harry was stunned to think that he’d left her just over a year ago, though they’d never officially broken up. It had been a year since Dumbledore died.

How time flies when you’re fighting for your life.

It was three months after the defeat of Voldemort – after Sirius had died – when Harry had decided what he wanted to do with his life. He had, of course, taken Sirius’ parting words to heart. One of the things that mattered in the world, and mattered most to him, was werewolves, with Remus having to deal with turning into one once a month. Snape, whom he had finally managed to be civil to, had scoffed at him, claiming that one couldn’t work with werewolves unless they actually had potions knowledge, and that relying on the stolen notes in a book – Snape’s book, funnily enough – would not be sufficient out in the real world. He, and everyone else, was surprised when Harry, instead of looking for a cure as they’d thought he would, campaigned for werewolf rights and set up networks of all kinds. He was, after all, not a genius in any field. He had no chance of finding a cure where all others had failed. He wasn’t stupid. He was, however, famous. Nothing worked like fame and adoration to influence the political world.

And if he spent the next several years ignoring the ever-growing closeness between himself and Remus, well, that wasn’t stupidity, that was just him remembering that Remus was twice his age. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to heed Sirius’ advice about love. It was just … well, really, one could only have one grand romance that defied all rules, boundaries and common sense in one lifetime.

And, of course, if by the time Harry was nearly thirty the age gap started looking a lot smaller, that was hardly an excuse to suddenly jump into bed with the man who had been his best friend since he still was a teenager.

But then again, who did he really think he was kidding?

~FIN~