Harry Potter At First Sight

**Author's Note: **Only my second Harry Potter fanfic-I'm not sure if I got Sirius right, but I tried. I wanted to give Sirius and Harry some of the moments they never really had in the books. The scene in third year is interpreted from the same one in the book; the scenes in fourth and fifth years are additions to their respective canon scenes.

**Disclaimer:** JKR, etc., own everything and unfortunately, I own nothing, not even my favorite werewolf!

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**31 July, 1980**

A handsome young man rolled over in bed, groaning softly over the lumpiness of the bed and the mugginess of the room. He couldn't get to sleep no matter how hard he tried—nor, it appeared, could his roommate.

Twenty-year-old Sirius Black was a wizard only a few years out of school, but he was already part of Albus Dumbledore's small resistance organization, the Order of the Phoenix, as were his best friends. They were a close-knit group (they had to be) which made it that much harder when someone was lost. Thankfully, none of the people Sirius was closest to had been harmed. James Potter, who almost made up for Sirius' sorry excuse for a brother, and his wife Lily had gone into hiding months ago, ever since they had discovered that Voldemort was out for them personally. He and Remus Lupin were currently rooming together, though Remus was constantly saying that it was a bad arrangement because he was a werewolf.

"And I'm an Animagus," Sirius always countered, "besides, Moony, who else am I going to share a flat with—Wormtail?"

Ah yes—Peter Pettigrew, their misfit friend who had never quite been able to keep up with him, James and Remus, was perfectly safe. Why shouldn't he be? Who would ever dream of targeting unassuming little Peter? Well…that was one friendship Sirius didn't have to worry about.

Sirius glanced up. There was light pouring in through the doorway to the main room. He ran a hand through his dark hair, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and walked towards the light. Unsurprisingly, he found Remus in a dingy old armchair, reading an equally dingy book. His eyes barely flickered up from the page when Sirius walked in. He smiled faintly and said, without looking up from the page, "No, nothing yet."

"You don't think…"

"If something's happened, he'd write us," Remus assured him in an infuriatingly calm voice. "Or Dumbledore would. These things take time, Padfoot."

Sirius opened his mouth to tell Moony off for talking to him like an idiot, but changed his mind instead and slumped onto the frayed old sofa, staring desperately at the window. All they could do now was wait, it was true, but the waiting was driving him mad… And then—was that rapping he heard? Before he'd really had time to process it, he flew off the sofa, practically flipping it over in his haste. He threw open the window and a large barn owl flew in, perching in the arm of Remus' chair. Sirius stared at it. His heart was beating so quickly and loudly that surely his friend could hear it…

But Remus simply snapped his book shut and untied the parchment from the owl's leg, looking a bit solemn, perhaps, but not nearly as excited or worried as Sirius knew he must look. Then, a few moments later, a smile crept across his tired face and he held out the parchment for Sirius, who all but lunged for it.

It was James' spidery hand:

_Dear Padfoot & Moony,_

_It's a boy! Lily's doing just fine—sleeping at the moment; Madam Pomfrey (Dumbledore said he trusted her more than anybody from St. Mungo's) says he's perfectly healthy. You've both got to come and meet him! Lily swore he's going to look just like me someday…but I hope not. Think how weird that would be._

_Hope this finds you well!_

_James_

"Didn't even say what his name is!" Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. The note looked as though James had written it in a hurry…not that he blamed the man. A new father! And Lily was safe, and the baby was safe…the baby, who apparently had no name yet. "That would be weird, though, a little Prongs running around…poor Lily, she didn't even like him as a kid."

Remus raised a brow skeptically. "I think she'll like her son just fine, whatever he looks like."

He seemed to ponder this for a moment before he grinned. "I s'pect you're right, Moony. Well then—shall we?" And without waiting for Moony to agree, Sirius disappeared with a sharp _crack_, though he was already in his pajamas and he looked quite as though he had just woken up. He wanted to meet James' son right away, whether or not Lily was asleep or he had just been born. He was practically the boy's uncle, after all—and so was Remus, for that matter. This kid would only be a newborn once, right?

_Crack!_ Remus was there, right behind him, a bit less enthused than his friend. "Be careful, you won't want to wake Lily…"

Sirius rolled his eyes so that Moony couldn't see. Now that Lily—and the baby—were fine, he wasn't worried anymore. Besides, she wasn't Evans the Perfect Prefect anymore. She wasn't going to tell him off for visiting, though it was late, though she was probably awfully tired…James had invited them! How could she complain? "Lighten up, Moony. Anyway, if she wakes up, she'll be pleased…we've gone from irresponsible prats to uncles in just a few years, haven't we? Oi, Prongs!" he called, raising a hand to knock—

The door swung open. James Potter looked truly exhausted; his hair was even more rumpled than usual, and his glasses were slightly askew, but Sirius had known him for ten years now. He could tell that he was deliriously, disgustingly happy. He ushered them eagerly inside without even asking the mandatory security question, which earned him a bit of a glare from Remus, always safety-conscious.

"Lily's upstairs," James informed them hoarsely. "I figured you'd turn up, so I brought him down…" As they all stepped into the Potters' living room, Sirius' eyes fell on a small cradle by the fire. He remembered vaguely that it had been a gift from Lily's parents. "Here…"

The new father knelt down and lifted a heap of blankets out of the cradle. He handled them with extreme care, and there was a look of tenderness on his face that Sirius couldn't remember ever seeing there before, not even at their wedding… He was touched. They were really growing up, all his friends (except for Remus, whom Sirius suspected had been born rather old), but James more than any of them. He took one instinctive step towards James and the precious little bundle in his arms. Out of those blankets peeked a tiny, perfect face. His jaw dropped—he couldn't see much of the little boy other than a shock of dark hair, a little round nose and lips, but that was enough.

Sirius Black, infamous ladies' man of Hogwarts, felt his heart melt. He had fallen in love with James and Lily's baby in an instant.

"Can I—?" He could barely even finish the words, but James' eyes gleamed with understanding. Sirius held out his arms and was surprised by how heavy the baby was…the baby…he glanced up, still cautiously balancing the bundle in his arms. "Does he have a name?"

The question seemed to stump James for a moment, and even Remus laughed. Then he clapped a hand to his forehead, coming close to knocking off his glasses in the process.

"I'm thicker than ever," James muttered. "Course he has a name…Harry. It's Harry. Listen, Padfoot, Lily wanted me to ask you…well…in case—in case anything ever happens to us, we'd like you to be his godfather. I wanted to ask you too, Moony, but…she said you'd say no," he added hastily. Sirius gaped at him, then at baby Harry, then back up at him; Remus chuckled softly and nodded. Given how he was always going on about how dangerous he was to, well, everyone, he probably would've said no, Sirius thought.

Godfather?

It was an honor, of course, but it was more than that—these days, it was a necessity. Though he didn't want to think that anything would happen to Lily and James, it was a real possibility. Especially since Voldemort had his eye on them.

"I—of course. I'd love to be his godfather," Sirius blustered, looking back down at the sleeping child—Harry—his godson. "Just love to."

**2 AM, 1 November, 1981**

Everything had gone wrong. A week ago, it seemed that they had finally found a way to hide the Potters and their baby boy away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Sirius Black had been excited. The danger hadn't mattered to him. When Dumbledore had come to the three of them—Lily, James and himself—and told them about the Fidelius charm, it seemed like their prayers had truly been answered. Sirius, of course, volunteered to be his friends' Secret-Keeper immediately. He hadn't needed asking.

"I don't care if they torture me," he swore. "I'll die before I give you up."

And he had meant it. Lily had begun to cry, and James had looked paler and more serious than Sirius had ever seen him before. The only member of the little family who seemed unaffected was little Harry. He was just beginning to learn to walk and had toddled over to Sirius, hugging his leg and looking up at him with those adoring eyes, Lily's eyes. He was so trusting, so innocent…

Sirius still wasn't sure why he had decided that he couldn't be Secret-Keeper. He stood here now, staring at the ruin that used to be Lily and James' home, numb with shock. It was all his fault. He had suspected Remus of being a spy for Voldemort, so of course he had said that they should use Peter instead, not him. Peter was a pathetic little wizard—why would they search for him? They would easily guess that James had chosen Sirius, his closest friend, to be Secret-Keeper. But now he realized that he had been completely and disastrously wrong. Remus was innocent—Peter was not. _Peter_ had sold them to Voldemort, and this was the result: a house reduced to rubble, Lily and James lying there, partially buried beneath it. James' glasses were askew and broken. His eyes were still open…and so were Lily's. The grief on her face was too much. Sirius couldn't keep looking.

Instead, he turned to the cot, which was still standing there, right-side up. Sirius dreaded what he would find inside…not Harry…not his sweet little godson.

To his utter amazement, however, a very small voice said, stumbling over the word, "Siwius?"

"Harry?" Sirius' grey eyes widened. Harry was alive! Harry was alright! "_Harry!"_ Sure enough, the small boy was sitting there, his green eyes wide and confused. He looked unhurt—except… Slowly, Sirius stretched out a hand. His fingers brushed the angry-looking, slightly raised scar on Harry's forehead; it vaguely resembled a lightning bolt. How had he escaped with no more than that? But then Harry began to sniff a little, looking quite pitiful indeed, no doubt wondering why he was out in the open and why his mother and father weren't coming to see what was the matter and why his "Uncle Sirius" was looking at him so strangely…

"Sirius Black? That you there?"

A booming voice made him turn around—it was familiar and friendly, though he heard the quiver of grief beneath…the same grief that he felt. "Hagrid!" he greeted him, rather stunned. What was Hagrid doing here? "Why—"

"Dumbledore's orders," Hagrid muttered, wiping his nose with the back of his very large hand. Sirius was a fairly tall man, but he barely came up to Hagrid's shoulder. As the groundskeeper approached, Harry began to cry. Sirius reached for him but Hagrid put out a hand. "Dumbledore's orders," he repeated again. "I'm to…take Harry…to…to…to his aunt and uncle's." Hagrid sniffed and looked as though he was blinking tears away as well. "Muggles, they are."

What? Harry, go to live with Muggles? With Lily's family? He had only ever heard a few things from her about her parents—who had died a little while after Harry was born—and her sister, who hated magic and hardly ever had anything to do with her anymore. She couldn't possibly be the best choice to care for Lily's orphaned little boy. No! Sirius wouldn't let Harry be raised by Muggles, probably ignorant of what had happened to his parents, ignorant of the world to which he belonged. It wasn't fair. Wasn't right. "Hagrid…let me take him. I'm his godfather," he said, looking back at the little boy who was still crying. "Lily…and James. They wanted me to. If…if anything…the night he was born, they asked." The words were coming out all wrong. James couldn't be dead. He couldn't get his mind—or tongue—around it.

Hagrid shook his big black head, though he looked doubtful, almost as though he, too, was silently wondering how wise those orders from Dumbledore had been, though Sirius had never actually heard Hagrid say a word against Dumbledore or questioning his judgment. "Sorry, Sirius, can't let yeh do that."

Sirius knew he was losing this battle. He wasn't going to be able to take Harry home with him and raise him like a son. Hell, when was the next time he'd even _see_ Harry? Ten years from now? Longer? That wasn't fair to either of them! Harry loved him, he knew he did—and he loved Harry like his own son! "They won't love him, Hagrid," he growled, the hurt in his voice finally baring itself. "He deserves someone who loves him. _I_ do."

One massive hand patted him gently on the back, or as gently as was possible for Hagrid. His beetle-black eyes shone with the same sadness Sirius was feeling, and something more—pity. Sirius didn't want to be pitied, and he didn't want anyone to pity Harry, either. "I'm sure Dumbledore's got his reasons," he mumbled, and that, at least, Sirius could not contest. Besides, the longer he argued, the longer Harry had to stay here, and that wasn't doing him any good. Maybe tomorrow...maybe Dumbledore would listen to reason then…Sirius heaved a very deep sigh and stepped aside, allowing Hagrid to somewhat awkwardly wrap Harry in a blanket.

Harry stopped crying almost at once. The little boy stared up at Hagrid, with his watery smile, and seemed to realize that he wasn't truly frightening at all.

"Take my motorbike," Sirius said, suddenly remembering. "It'll get you there faster."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Hagrid nodded, mumbling his thanks. Sirius motioned to where the bike stood, parked in the road nearby, and turned away for a moment before he stopped Hagrid again. "Can I…I'd like to say good-bye to him," he stammered. "Properly, I mean…" He wanted to say many things to Harry, actually, that the little boy wouldn't understand, but there was only time for the good-bye.

Hagrid lowered his arms a little. Lily's bright green eyes blinked up at Sirius as he leaned his small godson. He touched his downy little cheek and then pecked him on the top of the head. "Good luck, Harry," he whispered. "Don't ever forget that you've still got family."

Quickly, looking away from his godson, Sirius stepped back. He tried not to think about whether or not he would get to see Harry while he was growing up. More than that, he tried not to think about how Harry would grow up if he couldn't convince Dumbledore to let him adopt him and do his duty by Lily and James. Because surely the boy wouldn't remember him otherwise…he'd be no better than a stranger. His eyes traveled back over his friends' bodies, over the rubble that had been their house. Voldemort had ruined their lives, all of their lives, but this—this was his, Sirius', fault. Perhaps he wasn't fit to raise Harry after all. It was his advice that had made the boy an orphan.

As Hagrid climbed onto the motorbike and started it up, Sirius' reached into his robes and found his wand. His fingers curled tightly around it. Taking in this disastrous scene, he made himself a promise: that he would find Peter and make him pay for what he had done. Lily and James Potter were the best people anyone could ever hope to meet, and they had been murdered because a so-called friend had been too much of a coward to face his own death.

A thousand Peter Pettigrews could not equal one of James or Lily.

So Sirius was going to hunt him down. He was going to punish Peter, even if that earned him a cell in Azkaban…and if he did end up there, he would go with a lighter conscience, knowing he had done right by his friends' memory and right by Harry, who, thanks to Peter, no longer had parents.

He would gladly sacrifice himself now, since he should have done it while they were still alive.

**6 June, 1994**

The night had not gone as he had planned it—not at all. After twelve years in Azkaban, longer than he had ever expected to spend there, he felt like quite a different person than the Sirius Black who had been best man at his best friend's wedding and who had agreed to be godfather to his best friend's son. He certainly looked nothing like him and suspected that, if James could see him now, he wouldn't recognize him. Then again, if James had been alive, he would never have spent all those years in Azkaban…

The time may not have been so unbearable if he'd actually murdered Peter, but the little scum had gotten away and framed Sirius not only for his murder, but that of twelve Muggles as well.

Tonight should have ended gloriously…Peter would be sent to Azkaban, like he had deserved all along—he deserved it simply for working as a double-agent, much less selling his own friends to Voldemort. His name would be cleared. Most importantly of all, he would finally be able to offer a proper home to his now-thirteen-year-old godson.

But Peter had escaped again. His name was not going to be cleared—he would have to go on the run, again. This time, though, there was something to look forward to: Harry, who was more like James than Sirius could ever have imagined (Lily's prediction had proved quite correct), believed him. Harry had rescued him from the dementors twice that evening. Dumbledore believed him—even Remus believed him. So, despite the fact that he was still being hunted by the Ministry, Sirius had gained three supporters that night. After all these years, Moony was his friend again—

And though James was dead, he had Harry—Harry, who would have been a son to him, but now…now everything was different.

The three of them stood on top of the West Tower, the girl (he thought her name was Hermione) looking terribly nervous. He stared at Harry, not entirely sure what he ought to say.

"How can I thank you?" he asked hoarsely.

"By leaving," Harry replied, looking terribly serious. "You need to go—now!"

Sirius took a step, rather reluctantly, towards the hippogriff. "Harry…"

"Go!" he said urgently, seeming far too grown-up for a thirteen-year-old.

But Sirius couldn't leave without saying good-bye—only this time he was parting with a teenage boy rather than a baby. He crossed back to Harry, whose eyes were as wide this time as they had been after he had lost his parents. It vaguely occurred to him that he had offered Harry a home that night, as well—he had been convinced that he would raise little boy would be like a son of his own then…and tonight…tonight, he had been foolish enough to think that, this time, he might be able to be...something. Not a father anymore, but a friend, a mentor. Worse, this time Harry had thought so, too, only to be disappointed… "Your father would have done this for me," Sirius said somberly. "Thank you, Harry." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "If you need anything—"

"_Harry,"_ the girl called Hermione moaned.

Reluctantly, Sirius stepped away from them. He bowed to the hippogriff, which knelt almost at once to allow him to slide onto its back, as though it too understood how desperate the situation was.

"Thank you," he said again and dug his heels into the hippogriff's side. As its massive wings began to beat rather uncomfortably below his knees, Sirius put his arms around its neck, trying not to turn around and stare at the small, skinny boy who had saved his life as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance until he eventually faded into the night.

**24 June, 1995**

Though he had been on the run for nearly two years now, Sirius had spent the majority of those years on the Hogwarts grounds or close to them. Last year, it had been to safeguard Harry from Peter and whatever schemes he might have, not to mention to capture the little turncoat and clear his own name. Now, it was to make sure no one [i]else[/i] did Harry in…and that had almost happened tonight. Worse, it had been Voldemort himself who had tried to murder Harry and had—miraculously—failed again. But the fact remained that Voldemort was once again a force to be reckoned with. It did not bode well for anyone, least of all Harry, whom Sirius was sure Voldemort would not simply forget about.

Now Sirius sat in Albus Dumbledore's office, his face in his hands, listening to his godson talk about Voldemort's return in vivid, awful detail, worst of all seeing the smoky forms of Voldemort's victims, Lily and James included…

As Harry finished detailing what had happened to him in the graveyard, looked up from his hands. The poor kid was only a year older than he had been when he'd saved Sirius' life—and Buckbeak's—but this time, he had been completely on his own. Dumbledore had not been there to give him advice; Hermione hadn't been there to defend him. He had faced Voldemort one-on-one at much too young an age…and he had bested him. Sirius was proud and angry and relieved all at once.

Dumbledore was talking about rest and a sleeping potion. He got up from his desk and was halfway to the door before looking Sirius' way. "Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"

Surprised the headmaster had to ask, he nodded. The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Dumbledore's mouth, making his long beard twitch slightly, and he strode to the door, letting Harry and Sirius have a moment alone before escorting them to the Hospital Wing. Both of them stood up as well, Harry looking remarkably alert for a boy who must have been awake for hours now, a boy who had been kidnapped by Voldemort and then again by a Death Eater…Sirius offered him a weary smile. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, not exactly sure how to put the mixture of emotions raging within him into words. He had fought Death Eaters before, too—but it had been alongside other members of the Order of the Phoenix…alongside friends like Lily and James and Remus. Harry must have felt utterly alone.

After a very long moment, he gave up trying to articulate his feelings, settling instead on pulling Harry into a gentle one-armed hug. "I'm proud of you, Harry," he said in a low, hoarse voice, patting him on the back with his other hand.

Harry looked up at him, silent and unsmiling, but Sirius understood. He gave Harry another faint smile of encouragement, then stepped away from him and transformed into the great, bear-like black dog—"Snuffles" to Harry and his friends. He let Harry put a hand on his head and scratch him behind the ears, nudging his leg a bit since Dumbledore was no doubt waiting at the top of his spiral staircase for them. Harry took a slightly lurching step forward. He held Dumbledore's door open for Sirius, who wagged his tail and matched his slow, exhausted pace step for step all the way to the Hospital Wing.

Both Madam Pomfrey and the redheaded woman who appeared to be Ron Weasley's mother protested that it was not hygienic for the large, mangy-looking dog to stay as Harry changed into a pair of pajamas and climbed into bed, but Dumbledore stuck up for him, saying that he was very "well trained," which made Harry, Ron and Hermione all laugh, albeit weakly.

The Headmaster left and Harry drank his potion obediently and promptly fell asleep. Sirius lay down on the cool stone floor, his tail beating rhythmically against it. He rested his shaggy head against his front paws, but he was not asleep, nor did he plan to be. He would watch over Harry all night, and though he couldn't do it in his proper form, he hoped that his presence brought Harry some comfort.

This was the last time he would have to face Voldemort alone and unprotected. The next time—there would, inevitably, be a next time—Sirius vowed to be by his godson's side. And if he died, there was no one for whom he would rather do it.

**12 January, 1996**

He had been progressively less and less cheerful since Christmas, and he knew very well that it had taken a rather large toll on his houseguests. Despite that, Sirius could not bring himself to put on a brave face and pretend as though he was not unhappy about being left alone, again, while the other members of the Order were proving themselves perfectly useful. He was fond of the Weasleys, even Molly, though they did sometimes have rows—mostly about Harry—and of Hermione, but saying good-bye to his godson again would be the hardest of all.

Sirius would not wish this new form of imprisonment on Harry, not really. Being honest with himself, however, he knew he would gladly welcome having James' son live with him. It had occurred to him after they had all left for Hogwarts that, truthfully, he didn't know Harry very well. He was a bit of a stranger to him—he knew Harry had a quick temper, that his loyalty to his friends was as strong as his father's had been, and that he had a bit more common sense than Sirius and his friends had had at that age. He owed a great deal of what he _did_ know to the summer Harry had spent at Grimmauld Place, but that had not even been a month…

What he still knew, and had known since the day Harry was born, was that he loved him, no matter how much he yelled or sulked, no matter how much Harry's decisions sometimes left him a bit disappointed. As much as he had hated her saying it, Molly was right: Harry was not James. He was his own person. Sirius wouldn't lie and say he did not miss James terribly, or that he would not have given almost anything to have his best friend returned to him—all the same, he wouldn't change a thing about Harry, either, even if he could.

Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were still upstairs making sure they had everything when Harry came down with his trunk. It was still a bit early for them to leave, but Sirius felt like they already had. He barely mustered a smile as Harry came into the kitchen.

"All packed?" he asked, far too brightly. Harry muttered something in agreement and grabbed a piece of toast. "You don't look very excited."

Halfway through his bite, Harry snorted. "What's there to be excited about? No Quidditch, extra lessons with Snape, Umbridge…the D.A.'s about all that makes it worth going back." The D.A….Harry's "illegal" extra-curricular Defense Against the Dark Arts organization. Sirius grinned. He was James' son after all.

"Well, that's something, isn't it?" Sirius said, snatching another piece of toast and taking a rather large bite of it, looking for a moment quite like the "lovable stray" he had impersonated while he had still been on the run. "Besides, you could be stuck here—even with that Umbridge woman, _I'd_ rather be at Hogwarts than—" He cut himself off quickly when he saw Harry's face. It had been the wrong thing to say; it had made Harry feel worse because he was feeling bad for him, Sirius, which was the last thing he should be doing. The Order was much more concerned for Harry's well-being, Sirius included, than for Sirius', as well though should be. "But don't waste your time worrying about me," he added a bit lamely.

Harry looked down at his trunk and fiddled with the handle for a moment. "Sirius…you know what you said about…about Hogsmeade…" This surprised Sirius. He remembered vividly that Harry had been vehemently against the idea of him coming to Hogsmeade, though he had always thought that his "disguise" was good enough for a few hours, anyway…although Lucius Malfoy had apparently recognized him on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters…

He trailed off as the rest of them shuffled downstairs, pulling along trunks and rubbing sleep out of their eyes. The twins and Ginny threw open the door to the kitchen, and they all sat down for a quick bite. All too soon, however, Molly was herding the kids back up to the main floor again, insisting that it was already time to leave. Before they headed upstairs, however, Sirius pulled Harry aside again. "I want you to take this," he said, pressing a small package into Harry's hand. It contained a mirror he'd had for years—well, it was really James', but they'd had no need for them outside of school, so he'd ended up with them both.

For a moment, Harry stared silently down at the brown paper which enclosed the mirror then he glanced back up. "What is it?" he asked, sounding only half-curious.

"A way of letting me know if Snape's giving you a hard time," Sirius replied, and Harry shrugged, stowing it in his jacket as though only mildly interested that they now had a much easier way to communicate than the school fires or by owl—this could not be intercepted. Sirius frowned slightly, but there wasn't much else he could do. "Let's go, then." He forced himself to smile and led him upstairs, where Tonks and Remus and Mad-Eye were waiting to escort the students back to Hogwarts; Harry and Sirius were the last to come up. Both of them were dragging their feet—Sirius could tell that his godson was almost as reluctant to part as he was, though both of them were trying to pretend otherwise. Molly was hugging her children and Hermione, and finally Harry, and the truth was hitting home hard for Sirius: in a moment, Harry and all these other guests would be gone…

Just before Harry was out the door, Sirius reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. Half of him wanted to tell the boy before he was gone again, before he got into God only knew what trouble at school like he seemed to do every year, but just as Harry lifted his arms to return the hug, he muttered, "Look after yourself, Harry," and let go, and Mrs. Weasley was pushing him out the door, which closed abruptly.

She glanced at Sirius a bit worriedly, but he only stared at the spot where Harry had been for a moment and stalked back upstairs to sit with Buckbeak, wondering why in the world he hadn't said it—why he hadn't finally told Harry how much he loved him.

The words just wouldn't come. He could have said them to the newborn boy snuggled safe and warm in his blankets, or the wide-eyed orphaned baby boy, or even the exhausted, frightened fourteen-year-old…but for some reason, it seemed like it was too late. He had missed his last chance to tell James' son that he loved him as though he was his own. Sirius sank down on the floor beside Buckbeak, who was just as much a captive as he was, leaning the back of his head against the musty wallpaper. He closed his eyes tightly. _I'd love to be his godfather…just love to. _

Sirius smiled ruefully remembering those words. If only James and Lily could see how miserable a godfather he'd been all these years…

He might have sat there for hours, for all he knew, when he finally reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a battered-looking mirror. His own face was just barely reflected in the gloom. His voice broke the silence abruptly, though he only whispered: "James Potter…" Of course, nothing happened. He hadn't expected anything to. "Harry," he corrected himself hoarsely and rather sternly. "Harry Potter."

Either Harry hadn't unwrapped it yet or was, for some reason, ignoring him, because the mirror only flashed hints of Sirius' shadowy face back up at him. He stared at the mirror for a long time, until James and Harry's names and faces became interchangeable in his mind. Eventually he fell asleep and it tumbled out of his relaxed grip and onto the floor beside Buckbeak, miraculously without cracking.

Sirius' dreams were troubled and fitful. They were filled with Harry, and always, Sirius could not find his voice, or else yelled his love aloud, only for Harry to vanish as though he had not heard. And when he awoke in the morning, his gaunt cheeks were damp with tears.

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_Don't forget to leave a review! I love to hear from my readers. Also, I'm not entirely sure about the ending-it may change in the future._


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Harry Potter, Family, Friendship