Back for Good

Sirius had asked Hermione to check out a book on Muggle camping from the library. She’d tried to tell him that she knew a bit about it, having gone camping in her youth, but he would have none of it. Whether it was because he doubted her assertion, or because he wanted to do everything his own way, Hermione couldn’t be sure.

While at the library, she picked up a book on ancient magical artefacts, a book she remembered seeing when she’d been doing the preliminary research for her attempts to bring Sirius back. She’d flipped through it, but the section on the Veil was full of speculation and had not proved helpful at all. But as it did have a rather large forward on wizarding artefacts in general, it bore investigating.

Knowing the bond was still intact made Hermione’s life simultaneously easier and more difficult. She so desperately wanted to believe that her feelings for Sirius were real that she planned to go on as they had so far. It seemed unlikely that the bond would sever now, after all this time, so even if her feelings were fabricated, they were nevertheless going to be with her for the rest of her life. It made no sense to abandon their relationship when it felt so real.

She loved Sirius. It was a good love, a sweet, wholesome, true love, bracketed by a fiery, rather unwholesome, true passion.

All her life, Hermione had seen two types of romantic love. Kind, enduring love, which was calm and non-threatening, and wild, all-consuming love that burned out quickly with the force of emotion behind it.

Hermione, somehow, had both, and she only hoped that it was lasting. If she compared herself to the Alenksy couple as she had been wont to do lately, she could see a pattern that told her that their love would last as well. But, her usually helpful mind reminded her, two dots make a line, not a pattern.

For the first time in her life, Hermione had no qualms in telling her brain to shut the hell up.

---

By the time the weekend finally arrived, Sirius knew he was practically bouncing off the walls, driving Hermione to distraction. But he couldn’t seem to contain himself. He finally had something to do, something important to contribute.

Being with Hermione was great, it was perfect, it was more than he deserved, and more than he’d ever expected. But seeing Teddy made him realize that he’d been woefully remiss in his godfatherly duties. And who had shown him that? His own godson, the perfect example of godparenting. It was inexcusable.

He’d gleaned as much as possible from the book on camping, but the basics seemed to be escaping him. Why would one choose to sleep outside, where any manner of Dark creature could stop by for a meal? And what on Earth was Sirius supposed to do with a fish if he did manage to catch one? Surely not eat it raw? Were there spells for cooking fish in the middle of nowhere?

Hermione was decidedly no help, except that she kept trying to reassure him by telling him, “It’s fun!” which didn’t convince him in the slightest. He was afraid that Harry would be bored, would think it was stupid, and then the whole thing would blow up in Sirius’ face.

Harry wasn’t a child anymore. He’d known the boy a total of three years, one as an infant and two as a teenager. He wasn’t sure he was needed at all. Harry had obviously turned out just fine without him.

“Sirius, it’s going to be fine. I don’t know why you’re so nervous! Harry will have fun no matter what you boys decide to do. Now, have you packed?”

Despite being technically twenty and physically fifteen years her senior, when placed in conjunction with Harry, Sirius was always one of the boys. He found it endearing, the way she nagged at him, though Merlin knew he’d never dare say such a thing to her face. Hermione would make an amazing mother one day.

“I’ve packed,” he assured her, walking up to her and taking her into his arms. She always folded against him so accommodatingly; it made him feel strong and capable, even when he knew he was lacking. “I’m not nervous, not really. Just... Harry and I haven’t really done anything like this. I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to be James.”

Hermione shook her head, leaning back to look up into Sirius’ eyes. He could let her go to make the angle less awkward, but that would mean not feeling her warmth and softness against his body, and he needed that as surely as he needed to breathe his next breath.

“He knows you’re only trying to be his godfather. Sirius, I know that you know this... but Harry isn’t a little kid anymore. He doesn’t need... a guardian. Or... a role model. Not really. He needs a friend—he needs you. Not Order member Sirius, not James’ best friend Sirius, not even godfather Sirius. He just needs you. ”

Thinking about it, Sirius realized that, without all the titles, he didn't even know who he was. He’d been labelled so many times in his life that he’d almost believed the hype. What was he if not a Marauder, an Order member, a prisoner, a Veil reject? Who was he? And what good was he to Harry when he was often no good to himself?

“So, who am I supposed to be, Hermione?” he asked lightly, but he knew she saw right through him.

“Maybe this trip will help you figure that out. But I know who you are to me, Sirius. Do you want to hear?”

Sirius tilted his head, looking as though he was considering. She slapped him lightly on the arm, laughing, before curling up more tightly in his embrace.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“You’re everything. Just... everything.”

His arms tightened around his seemingly frail witch, so light he sometimes wondered if her bones were hollow, like a bird’s. Would she ever fly away? She was free to, he told himself. But he wondered if that was even true.

“I...” Sirius began, trying to agree with her sentiment in a more formal way, but finding himself incapable still. “I think so, too. About you.” That wasn’t quite what he’d wanted to say.

Hermione lifted her face again, her eyes shining with sincerity. Sirius thought it a shame that she’d known so little affection from a lover in her life. She was certainly pretty enough to warrant it and brilliant enough to deserve much more. But, selfish though it might be, he was grateful that she had little to compare him to. It might make him look a little less like a fuck-up in her eyes.

Lowering his lips to hers, Sirius lost himself in their kiss. He moved his mouth slowly, treating her like the bird he’d found himself comparing her to. Best not to startle her. Her lips parted in permission, and Sirius took it, sliding his tongue in to stroke against hers in a motion that was meant to convey gratitude, but really ended up taking reassurance.

Her soft moan demolished the last of his coherent thought, save for wondering how much time he had before he’d told Harry to meet him.

A sharp crack of Apparition told him not much time at all.

Hermione broke the kiss first. Sirius would have been perfectly content to carry on, audience or not. Maybe thoughts like that were what made him such a lousy father-figure, he mused dejectedly.

“Hermione, Sirius, how are you?” Harry asked a little awkwardly, looking at the sofa until Hermione hugged him in greeting, proving that Sirius could no longer be attached to his best female friend.

“Fine, Harry. And thank you for bringing my things back!” Hermione exclaimed, taking a shrunken trunk from Harry’s outstretched hand.

“No problem. It’s all in there,” Harry said, turning to Sirius. “So, you got yourself sorted out, then? No more making Hermione run to her oldest friend instead of manning up and apologizing?” Harry was grinning, but Sirius took his words to heart.

“Never was a man more repentant than I,” he said, in a jovial tone that did nothing to hide his true meaning. “Won’t happen again,” he swore.

Harry looked at Sirius in that pensive way of his, and Sirius knew he was being weighed. Finally, Harry nodded, a grin breaking across his face. “I knew you’d come around. So, what’s the plan?”

“Well,” Sirius said apprehensively. “I thought we could go... camping.”

Harry laughed, looking incredulous. Then he abruptly stopped when Sirius knew his disappointment was painted on his features.

“Sirius has been researching, Harry,” Hermione said, winking at Harry when she probably thought Sirius wasn’t looking.

“Really?” Harry asked, sounding more surprised than sarcastic.

Sirius nodded, feeling like a total failure. Of course Harry wouldn’t want to go camping. He was an adult with adult responsibilities and hobbies. He wasn’t thirteen anymore.

But Sirius sometimes had a hard time seeing Harry as anything but thirteen. The mental imprint of the first time he’d seen Harry after his imprisonment was indelibly marked upon his mind, and Sirius had to continually remind himself that his godson wasn’t a child.

But it seemed that he had even less to offer Harry the adult than he’d had to Harry the teenager.

“Well, that sounds fantastic, Sirius. Where are we going?”

Sirius managed a small smile. “There was a forest out near where your parents used to live. James, Remus, Peter, and I used to camp out there at times, although we didn't have tents or anything like that. We’d just go with a bunch of blankets. But I bought a tent for us, a proper wizarding tent.”

“When do we leave?” Harry asked, his smile wide enough to alleviate the worst of Sirius’ misgivings.

“Now, if you’re ready. Am I ready, love?” he asked Hermione, who was watching the exchange with something of a sad smile.

“I don’t know; are you?” she rejoined. But she put his bag in his hand, gestured to the tent, which was housed in an impossibly small canvas bag. But Sirius knew it was massive on the inside, having opened it the night before when Hermione had been sleeping. It’d been hell getting it back into the bag without help, but worth it. The thing was a marvel.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he decided. “Let’s go!”

Harry nodded, turning to give Hermione a hug. “I want you to be careful, all right? We’ve had reports about a couple of Death Eaters making things personal with Muggle-borns. Mostly threats and intimidation, but you never know, okay?”

“Of course, Harry. Now, have fun, you two!”

Sirius turned to give Hermione a kiss, smirking at the groan Harry gave before he went to wait by the front door.

The kiss was slow and languid, a promise of things to come. He didn't like leaving her so soon when he’d only just gotten her back, but it was only for the weekend, and then he’d have her in his arms, and his bed, once again.

“Be safe,” she told him, and he nodded.

“I’ll see you on Sunday. I left Apparition coordinates on the kitchen table in case of emergency. Don’t hesitate to use them if you need me.”

He made her promise, and he rewarded her with another slow kiss.

“Sirius!” Harry called, a laugh in his voice.

“Coming!” he answered, leaning down for one more peck before leaving with Harry.

They Apparated straight into the small clearing in the forest. It looked exactly as it had in Sirius’ youth, and he wondered if anyone took care of it, or if it was magically tended.

“Wow, Sirius, this is really cool. You and my dad really came here?”

Sirius nodded, wrapping his arms around himself as he looked around. He hadn’t really thought about how hard it would be to return here. The clearing was a little like him, Sirius thought; unchanged despite years passing.

“Yeah, we did. I think we were wondering through the woods when we first saw Godric’s Hollow. And your dad always said he’d like to live in a nice, quiet place like that.”

“How near is their house to where we are right now?”

Sirius looked around as if he could measure distance with a glance. “Not too sure. But we can easily Apparate if you want to see it. Or... them.”

Harry nodded slowly. Sirius watched a range of emotions pass over Harry’s face. The boy was so brave, so strong; he’d gone on so long without even a moment’s reassurance or comfort. It was a wonder, truly a wonder, that he was as well-adjusted as he appeared to be.

“When we leave, I’d like to stop by their graves,” Harry said quietly, fiddling with the sleeve of his robe.

“Sure,” Sirius said, closing the distance between them and pulling Harry into a one-armed hug.

Harry’s delight at the tent made Sirius feel like a million Galleons, even though he knew Harry had seen and been inside wizarding tents before. Everything about the experience was new to Sirius, whose family would never have deigned to set foot inside a tent, let alone with the intention of eating and sleeping within.

Fishing was a particular disaster. Neither was able to transfigure fishing rods, Sirius having only seen a photograph of one, and Harry having only a memory of one of his cousin’s. An aborted attempt to Accio a fish had left Sirius under Silencio, leaving Harry to explain that Sirius might have found a lake full of fish atop him and instructing him to be more specific next time. Sirius wasn’t sure that saying, “Accio that fish,” would work, so they gave up fishing to the professionals.

Luckily, Hermione had foreseen said disaster and packed enough food to last them a week. Or so he thought, until he saw how much Harry could eat before proclaiming himself stuffed.

They were lying on an old quilt beneath the night sky when Sirius asked about Teddy.

Like a proud father would have, Harry had plenty to say about his precocious godson.

“He acts just like Tonks must have, without the clumsiness, thank Merlin. But he looks just like Remus. And he sometimes says the smartest things. I mean, I know he’s really young, but you should hear him when he gets going.”

“He was very shy when I saw him,” Sirius said, smiling fondly.

“Yeah, he is, at first. Around new people. But he’ll get used to you very quickly, I reckon. Hey, you could come with me when I go to see him on Sunday evening, if you like! I was thinking of going straight there from here, but we could go to number twelve first, drop your things off, and head over. I’m sure he’d be so excited to see you again. I miss him already; I haven’t gone a whole weekend without seeing him in a long time.”

Sirius felt ready to burst with pride. The only thing dampening his happiness was the fact that he’d really had nothing to do with the amazing man Harry had become.

“I’d really like that,” Sirius said truthfully.

“We’ll do that then.” Harry was quiet for a moment, and then he laughed. “The first time I took Teddy overnight, I put him to bed looking just like his father. When I went to get him the next morning, he had black hair, bright green eyes, much brighter than mine, and a big lightning bolt scar. It... was shocking, at first. I didn't like seeing the scar there. I covered my own up with my hair, and a minute later, his was gone. I felt like... like how my father must have felt, looking at me. I felt like a dad. It was such a good feeling.”

Sirius thought about that. He hadn’t really wondered what it would be like to be a parent. Like many things with Purebloods, it was something expected of him, something he’d always expected for himself. But he’d never really pictured himself in that role. Harry’s words gave him a lot to think about.

“Are you and Ginny planning on having children any time soon?” he asked.

Harry gave a little half-shrug that Sirius recognized to mean that he was trying to hide whether something was bothering him. James had done the same thing.

“We talk about it all the time. We both really want to. I’m not sure what’s stopping us now.”

“Now?” Sirius asked. “Was there something stopping you before.”

Harry winced a little, and Sirius only noticed because he’d looked over at exactly that moment.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad or anything, Sirius. I want you to know that. But when you... left, I felt so... alone. So useless. Everyone I loved, everyone who trusted me, needed me... ended up hurt, one way or another. My entire life, people have died because of me. I couldn’t bring a child into a world where I couldn’t be sure I could protect them.”

Sirius wanted to interrupt, to deny Harry’s involvement in his falling through the Veil. Only Bellatrix was to blame, and Sirius himself. But Harry waved him off, and Sirius knew that, deep down, Harry knew it wasn’t technically his fault. But Sirius’ reassurance wouldn’t change the young man’s mind.

“And at first it was Teddy that made me begin to feel whole again, like I could give him something important. I can protect him, I know I can. And then you came back... and I know I had nothing to do with it, really. Hermione didn't tell me a word of what she was doing. But now that you’re back, that part of me that always insisted that I... that I killed you, is quiet. And that makes me feel like maybe it’s time to really start my life.”

Sirius pulled his godson into his arms. James had been a good friend, but Harry was a good man. And even if Sirius couldn’t take credit for it, he certainly felt proud.

“Your parents would have been so proud of you, Harry. And I am, too. So, so proud,” he murmured, kissing the crown of Harry’s head before pulling away. He felt a little embarrassed—he didn't like to get sappy, but he knew what he’d said had needed saying.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, blushing and grinning like a madman. “Thank you, Sirius. I—you can’t know.... Thank you.”

It was a long time into the night before Harry began to talk about Snape. First, it was tentative, as if he was gauging Sirius’ reaction. Sirius didn’t react—his opinions of the man had changed pretty dramatically. Knowing that Snape had given Hermione the key ingredient in getting him back among the land of the living kind of made any childhood (or adulthood) animosity a moot point.

But Hermione had made it a point, especially over the last few days, to outline Snape’s dramatic and imperative role in the culmination of the war. Hearing that Snape had killed Dumbledore had nearly set Sirius off on a rampage, but for the sake of Hermione, he’d tamped it down long enough to hear the truth.

And he felt well and truly chagrined.

Sirius wouldn’t go so far as to call the man a hero, as Harry was currently insisting. Sirius had no doubt that if Harry hadn’t been as powerful as he was, Snape would have made a different choice. The man was opportunistic, first and foremost.

But with things as they were, it was obvious that both Hermione and Harry had a great deal of respect for the slimy Slytherin, and if the two most important people in his life saw redeeming qualities in the git, well, maybe Sirius ought to rethink some things.

Never say them aloud, mind. But rethink all the same.

Harry fell asleep in the midst of that particular conversation, and for that, Sirius was rather thankful. It was one thing to have a paradigm shift about someone he’d been absolutely certain was evil. It was quite another to hear his virtues extolled by his godson.

Looking over at Harry, Sirius felt a near-overwhelming protectiveness. In repose, Harry seemed so small, so fragile. It would always be difficult to believe that Harry Potter had saved them all.

After tucking Harry in, more for Sirius’ comfort than the young man’s, Sirius lay on his back, thinking about what his love was doing at this moment. Probably sleeping, he surmised, thinking it would be wise to follow her unseen example.

There were some things he wanted to talk about with Hermione when he returned home. Important things. Things possibly involving little black-haired, brown-eyed people. Or brown-haired, grey-eyed people—Sirius wasn’t picky.


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Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review! And how does everyone feel about Sirius these days? Still pissed about his words and actions, or is he redeeming himself? :)

Thanks to kazfeist for the lovely beta!

NutsAboutHarry--your review made me smile. Thank you for that! As for your desires, well... I think you'll like what this chapter suggests.

Rainien--thank you for being a faithful reviewer! I heart you.