#Sirius and Harry

[sunsfawn]

babysitting gone wrong

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 4. How Sirius shows care towards people and animals.

Sirius has a trait that often seems like irresponsibility or excessive harshness.

Sirius really respects another person's free will and choice and even treats teenagers as adults with their own minds. It's a deeply rooted idea of respecting others as agents of free will.

That's why he has no pity for those who make mistakes, including himself. To him, any mistake is always a person's free choice. Sirius will never forgive Peter because, regardless of Peter's circumstances for betrayal, it ultimately was a CHOICE. He even refuses to forgive the Ministry (as if the Ministry cares, oh Sirius):

‘Don’t worry about Percy,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘He’ll come round. It’s only a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry’s going to be begging us to forgive them. And I’m not sure I’ll be accepting their apology,’ he added bitterly.

He tells this to Molly after she encounters a boggart. Contrary to popular belief, in this scene, he doesn't really comfort her after their argument. Lupin does most of the work. Sirius just adds this phrase. He's still angry at Molly for what she said, just acting more maturely and not escalating the conflict further. He's angry because he understands Molly said exactly what she meant. Molly is also angry at him, they generally love to get angry at each other because they don't really understand each other.

They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Harry quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before.

He even considers Kreacher an agent of free will. 

‘You’d be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,’ said Sirius.

As they say - where there's a will, there's a way. When people say that Kreacher was lower in the hierarchy than Sirius (as any house-elf would be), Sirius himself did not see it that way, and it’s truly paradoxical. He argued with Kreacher, kicked him, engaged in verbal battles, though he could have just given direct orders. Kreacher's insults towards Sirius were similar in style to Walburga's  (otherwise, where would Kreacher learn those insults?), and Sirius... Sirius, instead of direct orders, just yells back or kicks him. When Harry gives Kreacher a direct order to shut up, Kreacher obeys instantly. A house-elf must obey the direct orders of their master. But Sirius doesn't give direct orders. Because for him, Kreacher is also an agent of free will (and also some ‘‘member‘‘ of his beloved and hated family, as Sirius is much more attached to the Blacks than he would like to admit).

Because of his attitude towards equals, Sirius fights for Harry to get the information he needs. For Sirius, Harry is an adult, not a five-year-old child who needs to be looked after in the style of Molly. Molly deprives Harry of his agency, his choice, and his own opinion with her overprotection. We have to understand Molly; she really worries for all of them, as half her family is in the Order and can die. She doesn't want to lose Harry, so she tries to protect him in every way. Plus, they all have orders from Dumbledore. Isn't Molly right? Molly has her point, she works for the Order and thinks Sirius could harm with his too "independent" behaviour, and teach Harry this excessive independence. And what does independence from Dumbledore lead to? Molly knows well (and so does Sirius) – last time such "independence" from Dumbledore cost the Potters their lives. I don't want to judge Molly. She's a member of the newer incarnation of the Order of the Phoenix, and a good one at that. Sirius, however, is still mentally in the era of the Order's original incarnation (as is Lupin, though he is more conforming and softer), a time when the rules of engagement were harsher, with much more focus on the grim realities of war. The newer version of the Order operates with different tactics – emphasizing manipulation, cunning, and caution.

Molly and Sirius have different approaches. Molly is about caution. Sirius is about action.

Sirius treats Harry as a subject, not an object to be shielded from information.

Sirius knows where his area of responsibility is and what he can influence, and where he should not interfere:

‘Not just yet, Molly,’ said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. ‘You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.’

‘I did!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so –’

‘And they’re quite right,’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘You’re too young.’

‘Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?’ asked Sirius. ‘Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—’

‘How come Harry gets his questions answered?’ said Fred angrily. ‘We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!’ said George.

‘It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,’ said Sirius calmly, ‘that’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand –’

He doesn't tell the twins anything because it's not his responsibility. But Harry – that's his responsibility. And Sirius believes it's up to him to decide what Harry is allowed to know and what not (considering Dumbledore's instructions "I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly").

‘He’s not your son,’ said Sirius quietly.

‘He’s as good as,’ said Mrs Weasley fiercely. ‘Who else has he got?’

‘He’s got me!’

In the situation with Molly, you see two opposing views clash. Molly, with the archetype of a guardian, wants to shelter everyone with her care. Sirius, with the archetype of a rebel, respects Harry's wishes and wants to open up new knowledge and opportunities for him to fight.

‘He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘He’s only fifteen and –’

‘And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,’ said Sirius, ‘and more than some.’

‘No one’s denying what he’s done!’ said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. ‘But he’s still –’

‘He’s not a child!’ said Sirius impatiently.

Sirius probably stopped considering himself a child very early on. Maybe it came from his conservative family, where children were expected to grow up earlier, not walk around as "little children" until they were 18. They think about marriage, duty to the family, responsibility early on. Plus, wizards come of age earlier – at 17. So, for Sirius, 15 years old is not a child anymore.

That's why Sirius defends Harry's right "to know".

‘Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?’ asked Sirius. ‘Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—’

-

‘But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back’ (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) ‘he has more right than most to –’

Sirius really encourages taking action. His way of caring isn't about coddling. It's about giving knowledge, opportunities, resources, and supporting in the right direction. For Sirius, to live is to act; he can't be without action, doesn't understand life without it:

‘Personally, I’d have welcomed a Dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you’ve had it bad, at least you’ve been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights ... I’ve been stuck inside for a month.’

Sirius can't not act and he doesn't understand how you could do otherwise. He knows Harry is the same because Harry is like his dad, meaning James was the same – always acting.

And he encourages this in Harry. But he always teaches to act with thought, not just charging in. In the 4th book, Sirius was telling Harry not to stick his neck out, but in the 5th, it's the opposite. Sirius has his own logic, which he shows here:

‘So, you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the Defence group?’ he muttered finally.

‘Me? Certainly not!’ said Sirius, looking surprised. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea!’

‘You do?’ said Harry, his heart lifting.

‘Of course I do!’ said Sirius. ‘D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?’

‘But – last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks –’

‘Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!’ said Sirius impatiently. ‘This year, we know there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!’

‘And if we do get expelled?’ Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

‘Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,’ said Sirius.

That's Sirius through and through. A true Gryffindor, who won't just sit around when there's danger afoot. You might argue that he shouldn't have encouraged Harry in this way. But what else was he to do? Hand Harry over to Umbridge? Of course not. He trusts Harry, believes in his potential. He treats Harry as an equal, not as a child, and that's why Harry feels so connected to Sirius – at last, someone sees him as mature enough, respects him as a free person. Throughout the series, Harry has been shielded from the truth, kept in the dark, yet Sirius shows him a different kind of respect – he sees Harry as someone who can act, in whom he places his trust and belief. Is Sirius right? When it comes to Harry – absolutely. As for the war, the Order, and following Dumbledore's orders – Molly would definitely disapprove.

He even passes Molly's words on to Ron. In his sarcastic manner, but still:

… anyway ... first of all, Ron – I’ve sworn to pass on a message from your mother.’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

‘She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you’ll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also’ (Sirius’s eyes turned to the other two) ‘advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you’d all have been in real trouble, and she can’t say it for herself because she’s on duty tonight.’

Again – a striking difference between what Molly understands by care and what Sirius understands by it.

Sirius lets Harry feel that he's believed in, respected, that his actions are encouraged. Sometimes Sirius criticises them, because as much as he encourages action, he believes all actions should be reasoned. Act according to logic, not thoughtlessly.

For instance, Sirius sternly reprimands him in the 4th book when Harry, in his opinion, does something foolish. And notice his communication style. Sirius is often blunt in conversation, in his way of talking, he doesn't sugarcoat. And Harry's okay with that. Sirius isn't one for mushiness.

Harry – what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the Forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn’t get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone’s trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practise Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn’t go amiss either. There’s nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you won’t stray out of bounds again.

That's what care means to Sirius. Not forbidding him from knowing information. But actively helping him so Harry is ready to stand up to challenges.

Or like this:

‘Now, listen ...’ he looked particularly hard at Harry – ‘I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission, it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.’

‘No one’s tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of Grindylows,’ Harry said.

But Sirius scowled at him. ‘I don’t care ... I’ll breathe freely again when this Tournament’s over, and that’s not until June. And don’t forget, if you’re talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, OK?’

At the same time, he provides Harry with emotional support. Just without the mushiness. There's a sort of rough tenderness about it, making these signs of attention and love seem even more important and pleasant.

‘What’re you doing here, Sirius?’ he said.

‘Fulfilling my duty as godfather,’ said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very dog-like way. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m pretending to be a loveable stray.’

-

The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same.

He also provides Harry with real resources that can help him:

‘I want you to take this,’ he said quietly, thrusting a badly wrapped package roughly the size of a paperback book into Harry’s hands.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked.

‘A way of letting me know if Snape’s giving you a hard time. No, don’t open it in here!’ said Sirius, with a wary look at Mrs Weasley, who was trying to persuade the twins to wear hand-knitted mittens. ‘I doubt Molly would approve – but I want you to use it if you need me, all right?’

-

‘Sirius’s knife,’ he said. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,’ said Harry. ‘So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has –’

Sirius isn't inclined to pity. He respects the choices of others. His care is expressed in this – he knows people's strengths and trusts them to do their job. He thinks Hagrid will be okay because Hagrid is tough. Why worry?

‘Listen, don’t go asking too many questions about Hagrid,’ said Sirius hastily, ‘it’ll just draw even more attention to the fact that he’s not back and I know Dumbledore doesn’t want that. Hagrid’s tough, he’ll be OK.’

And he respects the choice of the twins' father, though many find Sirius's words harsh:

‘We don’t care about the dumb Order!’ shouted Fred.

‘It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!’ yelled George.

‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is – this is why you’re not in the Order – you don’t understand – there are things worth dying for!’

But it's not cruelty or indifference, it's respect for their father's choice, as an agent of free will.

Sirius even treats animals this way. Look how he got on with the cat. And yet he understands that animals are defenceless and need support. He doesn't expect danger from them and often finds comfort in their company.

‘This cat isn’t mad,’ said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks’s fluffy head. ‘He’s the most intelligent of his kind I’ve ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he’s been helping me ...’

-

Kreacher injured Buckbeak the Hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs tending to him.’

-

Crookshanks, Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry’s legs, purring, then jumped on to Sirius’s lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absent-mindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry.

-

Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. ‘I’ve just been feeding Buckbeak,’ he added, in reply to Harry’s enquiring look. ‘I keep him upstairs in my mother’s bedroom

-

Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak.

-

He became more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley called ‘fits of the sullens’, in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time.

Sirius befriended the cat, treated it as an intelligent being, and constantly cared for the hippogriff. Sirius is very closed off from people (after Azkaban, he only opens up to Harry and Remus), he builds a tough armour, but easily opens up to animals and easily cares for them in a nurturing manner – and they love him back.

In conclusion, Sirius respects the free choice of others. For him, pity towards another is demeaning. Sirius hates pity – neither for himself nor for others. To pity = to demean, to pity means to acknowledge the other as incapable and weak. And Sirius doesn't meddle in others' relationships, he well separates his zone of responsibility, and care for him is to give resources and information so the person can act. And he's good with animals, and to animals, he can show a different attitude – nurturing, because acknowledging animals as weaker doesn't demean them, because animals truly are weaker.

This character trait of Sirius isn't for moral judgement, just that's how he is, and it's important to understand that.

[lex-hj0519]

what do you think we’d do, let them starve?

Just a little drabble based on this line in OOTP, cause it always makes me think, "well, that is pretty much what you did to Harry..."

“And as for who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,” said Lupin, smiling slightly, “what do you think we’d do, let them starve?”

Mrs. Weasley smiled tremulously.

As Mrs. Weasley mopped her eyes and muttered that she was being silly, Lupin’s words washed over Harry.

“What do you think we’d do; let them starve?”

That’s what they did to him, Harry thought bitterly. They’d dropped him off on his aunt and uncle’s doorstep and left him there for ten years. Nobody had cared about the days and nights he spent in his cupboard with his stomach grumbling, hoping that he could sneak out to steal food from the kitchen after the Dursleys fell asleep.

A sharp feeling of hurt shot through him as Lupin continued to comfort Mrs. Weasley, and Harry abruptly turned on his heel and left the room. He climbed the stairs two-at-a-time, desperate to get away from the others before they noticed that something was wrong. He climbed the stairs until there were no more stairs to climb, ending up in the attic. It was cluttered with furniture, trunks, boxes, and other knick-knacks, but Harry found a clear spot and squished himself in between a battered steamer trunk and a side table that had legs carved to look like snakes.

He tucked his knees up, wrapped his arms around his legs, and buried his face in his knobby knees. He was not going to cry. He was not going to get upset. He was going to sit here and breathe until all of these stupid emotions stopped stirring around in his chest, and then he was going to go back downstairs with no one the wiser.

Off in the distance, he could hear another set of footsteps climbing the stairs. He waited for them to stop off at one of the floors, but they kept coming and coming until the attic door creaked open. Harry didn’t move. He didn’t even lift his head. Maybe if he stayed squished here in this spot, whoever it was wouldn’t notice.

“Mind if I join you?”

Harry didn’t want to see anyone. But of all the people who had come after him, he was glad it was his godfather. Harry shrugged awkwardly, still not looking up. Sirius picked his way through the clutter, pushed the steamer trunk aside, and sank down beside Harry so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Sirius bumped his shoulder gently. “Are you all right, Harry? That boggart scared me, seeing your dead body laying there.”

Harry slowly raised his head to look at his godfather. Sirius looked even more pale and drawn than he usually did. Harry hadn’t even thought of how the boggart would have affected him.

“I’m all right,” Harry muttered.

Harry was grateful when Sirius didn’t push him to say more. They sat in a comfortable silence for a long while, with Harry slowly slumping and leaning into Sirius’s side. Sirius tucked one long, skinny arm around Harry’s back and pulled him closer into his side.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen,” Sirius said gently.

“Talk about what?” Harry asked grumpily.

“About why you ran off like there was a Hungarian Horntail on your tail,” Sirius replied. “Was it just the boggart?”

“No,” Harry admitted after another long silence. “It was something else.”

“Thought so,” Sirius said. Harry wanted to roll his eyes at his godfather’s smug tone.

“It was what Lupin said after,” Harry said.

“What Remus said after?”

Harry tilted his head to look up at his godfather, who was looking down at him with a furrowed brow.

“Mrs. Weasley was worried about what would happen to Ron and Ginny if she and Mr. Weasley died. And Lupin said that they wouldn’t let them starve,” Harry repeated.

“And that upset you?” Sirius asked curiously.

Harry shrugged and looked down at his hands, twisting the edge of his t-shirt.

“It didn’t matter when it was me,” Harry mumbled after a long silence. “I – I was hungry all the time growing up. And nobody ever checked on me.”

Sirius swallowed hard and tucked Harry even closer into his side. Harry buried his face in his godfather’s shoulder to hide the tears that he could feel prickling in the back of his eyes.

“I used to sit in my cupboard and dream about someone coming to save me. But no one ever did. Not until Hagrid brought my Hogwarts letter. And even then, I still had to go back. I always have to go back.”

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius whispered into his hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you then. But I’m here for you now. And I’m not going to let you go back.”

Harry didn’t want to get his hopes up. He had before, and they had been torn away from him as fast as a hippogriff could fly. But as he sank into Sirius’s comforting embrace in the dusty old attic of Grimmauld Place, he so badly wanted to believe that this could be it: this could be the day that he was finally saved.

[tealighttalks]

« je t’aime »

photo cred: m.blakeart on instagram

« je t’aime » sirius whispered down at the baby in the cradle who’s hair spiked up in all directions. « tu es très beau » and harry kicked his feet while sirius danced him around the house. « fière de toi » he gasped when harry finally walked. sirius whispered his love in french to harry. his harry. his beautiful, strong, silly godson.

the first time sirius saw the sunlight in years and all he could think of was his godson. je t’aime. je t’aime. je t’aime. and when he his arms wrapped around harry at last he whispered his mantra into harry’s ear « je t’aime »

and harry smiled.

[oxydiane]

The scene at the start of Prisoner of Azkaban in which Harry accidentally summons the Knight Bus after seeing Padfoot never fails to make me incredibly sad when I think about it. Sirius didn't even want to talk to Harry or try convincing him of his innocence, he just wanted to see him. Sirius had so many chances to try and convince Harry of his innocence, but all he wanted to do was kill Pettigrew and ensure Harry's safety. Him roaming Little Whinging, him hiding under the Quidditch Pitch bleachers during Gryffindor's matches, all he wanted to do was see Harry. He loves Harry so much, my heart aches.

[my-castles-crumbling]

gift - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 393

"Hey, Moony!"

"Moo!"

Remus grinned as he walked through the door with Lily, the sound of Sirius and Harry's greetings making him chuckle.

But his chuckles quickly turned into an all-out fit of laughter when he got to the kitchen to take in the scene before him:

Harry and Sirius were at the table, which was covered with old issues of The Daily Prophet and had paints and brushes scattered across it. However, Sirius's admittedly-mature effort at keeping things clean must have gone horribly awry at some point, because both boys were covered in paints of every color, and there were smears of paint on the floor, counter, chairs, and- ceiling? How they managed that, Remus didn't want to know.

Luckily, Lily seemed to take it all in stride, because she walked in behind Remus and said, "Wow, you two! You've had some fun today, huh?"

Harry let out a squeal of approval and threw a paintbrush across the room.

"Harry painted you and Prongs!" Sirius declared proudly, gesturing to a painting that consisted entirely of lines and blotches. ("Maaaa Daaaa!")

"Well, he's certainly got abstract painting under control," Lily remarked with a grin, plucking Harry up from his infant chair. "Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

She disappeared up the stairs with a babbling Harry.

"Harry's going to be sad when Prongs gets back from his trip and you don't have to watch him every day anymore," Remus remarked lightly, grinning at Sirius, who was picking paint out of his hair.

But Sirius just laughed and gestured to another painting. "I made something for you. Could be worth millions someday," he said with a wink.

Remus looked at the paper. It was...unsophisticated. Two stick figures, one taller than the other. The shorter one had black hair and the taller one wore what could only be described as a ridiculous sweater with polka dots that Remus suspected were finger-painted on.

They were holding hands.

"It's us," Sirius shrugged, smiling softly.

Remus tried not to get too emotional over a silly little painting, but something about it tugged at his heartstrings. He swallowed the lump in his throat and laughed lightly. "You clearly have a gift, Pads."

"Wanker."

"I love you," Remus murmured, pulling Sirius into a hug.

"Love you more."

They hung the picture on their fridge when they got home.

[theprongspotter]

Harry: Do you have regrets?

Sirius: Regrets? No, no, I left those behind.

Harry: You make it sound so easy.

Sirius: I spent years hating every fiber of my being. I wouldn't quite call it easy.

-

c: @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

[punkharryp0tt3r]

Some order member: Harry can’t be that much of a danger

Sirius: That’s a stupid thing to say.

The order member: Why’s that?

Remus: Someone said my scars were ugly and devil like so Harry burnt down there house.

Everyone else: WHAT-

Harry, crossing his arms: Well they deserved it.

Remus: Harry, there family died in the fire-

Everyone else, mouths hanging open:

Harry: …

Harry: Still deserved it-

[goodgodfathersiriusblack]

Good Godfather Sirius Black Fest Rules & Prompts - January 2024

RULES:

Use the tag #GoodGodfatherSiriusBlackFest2024

Tag us at @goodgodfathersiriusblack to be noticed and reblogged.

If posting on AO3 – add to the “GoodGodfatherSiriusBlackFest” collection.

Prompts are loose – you can interpret them however you like.  You can do either prompt or both prompts for each day, and you’re welcome to do all 62 prompts or just 1 prompt.  Whatever inspires you.

Only background ships are allowed, your fic must be primarily about Harry & Sirius

Story MUST be a GEN story focused on Harry & Sirius and Sirius’ role as Good Godfather.

No minimum/maximum word count – all stories welcome.

All mediums welcome – Fanfic, Art, ect.

Sirius should be his canon, competent good godfather self that he did his best to be in the books, no goofy, silly, no-one-would-entrust-their-child-with moron Sirius.    

PROMPTS:

Here are the Prompts for the Good Godfather Sirius Black Fest.

Each day has two prompts as options.

Please feel free to ask any questions! Thanks!

[khwxbeeda]

Sirius leaned his hip against the kitchen counter and breathed out, letting his eyes fall shut. He wrapped his arms around himself and tipped his head back, controlling his breathing till it was a perfect time period— 4 seconds in, 6 seconds hold, 8 seconds release. Repeat.

The kitchen was silent.

It was a rare thing, a silent kitchen— the Order met here for meetings, dinner time was best described as utter chaos, Molly bustled around banging the pots and pans and yelling at her children. Grimmauld Place had a perpetually noisy kitchen, except now, in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep.

The silence was… relaxing.

He breathed out and opened his eyes, slowly turning his head to take in the entirety of the dingy but clean room. The dinner table was spotless, the mahogany wood gleaming with the new coat of polish he and Harry had layered onto it a few days ago. Next to him an empty goblet stood on the counter, emblazoned with the Black Family crest and motto, glaring up at Sirius for daring to use it to drink a few sips of late-night wine. Sirius ignored its presence and picked up the bottle of Nebbiolo red that he had poured from. It wasn't wise to drink more than one glass if one couldn't sleep, and Sirius knew better than most what alcoholism did to people.

"Sirius."

He looked up, and smiled.

"Hello, Harry," he murmured, and Harry gave him a tight smile in return. The expression made something curl unpleasantly in his ribcage, and he kept the bottle back down to walk over to Harry. Close up, there were dark bags under his eyes and his skin was paler than death, and his eyes… Sirius did not want to think about how similar that look was to the one he saw in the mirror.

He wanted to fix everything. He wanted to give Harry a good home, a good life, a good family. He wanted, with all his heart, to have a chance at making everything right. He wanted to drag Harry into a hug and tell him that he was loved, that he deserved better, that he could just say the word and Sirius would take him far away from Britain and its shit politics.

"I didn't hear you come in," he said instead.

Harry shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pocket of his worn-out black hoodie, blinking slowly at the bottle of wine.

"I didn't know you drank," he said quietly, and Sirius almost smiled at how similar he sounded to James when he had been going through puberty. Harry's voice was low, a little raspy, and it suited him well. The thought of James sent a pang of grief through his heart, as usual, and he ignored it in favour of shaking his head.

"Never more that a few sips," he answered as he set it back down, silently pulling out two chairs and gesturing at Harry to take a seat. "Orion drank a lot. Those were never good moments."

His voice echoed around the kitchen, the silence of the night raising the volume so it seemed like he was speaking from all corners of the room. Harry slumped into the chair next to Sirius and looked around, and Sirius swallowed at the gleam in his green eyes. It was… he wanted to make that haunted look go away.

"You know," he murmured, and the boy's eyes snapped towards him. "People keep saying you look exactly like James. With your—"

"—mother's eyes, yeah." Harry looks away, jaw clenching and relaxing. "I know."

Sirius smiled. "It's not entirely true."

Harry looked at him, eyes suddenly sharper than a dagger, and Sirius felt his heart ache at the familiarity of the expression. He nodded at Harry's look of disbelief, smile growing wistful.

"The shape of your lips is all Lily," he explained. "James had a wide-set, smiling mouth. You and Lily, though— little rosebud mouth. James always said Lily was one of the Celtic Fair Folk because of her narrow face."

Harry smiled at him, wonder shining in his eyes, the shadows a little less dark compared to a few minutes ago. Sirius considered that a win, and kept talking.

"And your eyes.. Lily had forest green eyes, with hints of brown and golden if you were close enough to see it. Calm and serene most of the time, till she got angry. Then it felt like she could stab you with just one look."

Both of them huff out quiet little laughs, and Sirius tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. He could barely get the next words out through the lump in his throat. "You, though— the most brilliant green eyes ever, the exact shade of the Killing Curse. You have your grandfather's eyes."

The sharp breath Harry sucked in echoed through the air like a gunshot.

Sirius twisted his head to glance at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something… Sirius felt his blood boil.

"Nobody told you about your grandparents, did they?"

.

Tag list: @roalinda @impishtubist @in-flvx @narcissa-black-supermacy @padfootastic @gracelesslady23 @mycupofrum @fiendishfyre @prongsfoot-wolfstar @siriuslystarbucks @strwbi-laces

[here-for-a-good-time-hopefully]

Sirius finds out abt Drarry

Sirius: You are grounded for… ‘til college

Harry: FOR ‘TIL COLLEGE!!!

Sirius: FOR ‘TIL COLLEGE

Harry: Whyyyyy

Sirius: For kissing that blonde, greasy git

Harry: You’re the one who took him under your wing!

Sirius: Well, this wing shall flap no more

[ronsharry]

everytime i think of harry and sirius i want to bash my head into a wall. like what do you mean they never got their happy ending together? that they didn’t end up living in the country where they can see the sky? because sirius would’ve liked that after all those years in azkaban?

[tistheblackraven]

New walpaper drop

[zazima]

im rusty. so rusty. and also extremely late for christmas. i may as well have waited 350 days until the holidays came around again, but im trying to write more this year, so hear you go? eek im nervous. please pardon any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. enjoy! also tumblr doesn't seem to have line breaks so sorry if any time jumps are confusing.

also a warning for language and mentions of wanting to step in front of a bus as an extreme response to being embarrassed. i swear this is all fluff otherwise.

Harry doesn't know what to get Sirius for Christmas.

Well, to clarify, Harry doesn't know if he can get Sirius anything adequately worth a damn. Because how can a game (magical or not) or piece of art or trinket or any sort of anything say hey Merry Christmas and by the way, thanks for saving me from my horrible abusive household where I lived in a cupboard and for wrangling a fucked up wizarding judicial system so that it both exonerates you from a murder you didn't commit and lets you adopt a kid you only properly met six months ago.

Harry would also like the gift (if he ever manages to find something) to say also thank you for giving me my own bedroom and for making pancakes every Saturday morning and for letting me visit my friends and for playing two-man Quidditch with me and for ruffling my hair and for always letting me pick the film that we watch and for telling me stories about my parents and for always being just enough and for not pushing me when I have nothing to say and for calling me by my name instead of shouting boy angrily-

Harry figures that he should cut himself off there. Any more gratitudes and the gift will literally be impossible to find, lest it be the size of Hogwarts in an effort to cram any and all unspoken messages Harry doesn't have the courage to voice out loud.

So Harry does what he usually does in a sticky situation. He turns to his friends.

No clue mate, Ron writes. I normally get Mum perfume and Dad whatever Muggle trinket he's been obsessing over. So unless Sirius wants a rubber duck, I probably won't be much help. But you could probably give him one and he'd be ecstatic. You're pretty much his favorite person right now.

Ah bloody hell. Do you think I should get Sirius something as a thanks for Pig?

Even though he's sure Ron's right (although Padfoot might enjoy a rubber duck more than Sirius), Harry doesn't have time to add Ron's own gift conundrum to his list of problems, so he turns to Hermione, who ends up being a bit more helpful.

I know you said that Sirius was interested in curse-breaking and how it can be used to help with cleaning up Grimmauld Place, so maybe something pertaining to that? A book or starter kit? Or perhaps something a bit more personal, something he couldn't just buy in a shop. Don't worry too much, Harry. He'll love whatever it is you give him because it's you.

Harry disregards the book suggestion immediately. Sirius does read; over the holiday break the two of them have taken to sitting quietly on opposite sides of the couch in the sitting room, reading books from the Black family library and munching on the latest treat Mrs. Weasley has sent them while flames blaze in the fireplace, only breaking the peaceful quiet occasionally to share whatever interesting passage has just been read. But Harry doesn't want to give a present that reminds Sirius of the exhausting work they do every day trying to make Grimmauld Place a habitable home.

Hermione's other suggestion, however, gets Harry thinking. Something he couldn't just buy in a shop. That obviously eliminates all of the last-resort items Harry had on his mental list, as they were dumb things he had planned to frantically order by mail once he gave up on the idea of finding something good enough for Sirius. But it also opens up a new idea, something that Harry himself had appreciated when he had received it a few years ago.

He begins firing off letters and mail-in order forms with an efficiency Hermione would admire. The owls return in quick fashion, up to three or four a day. Sirius doesn't notice anything at first, but when Hedwig taps on the kitchen window for the second time that day during breakfast, he gets up and lets her in with a raised eyebrow at Harry.

"Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment?" he asks, somewhat incredulously, peering at the label on the package. "Harry, love, you know we can just go to Diagon Alley whenever you'd like. No need to rely on owl post if you're running low on supplies."

Harry flushes and snatches the small, soft package from Hedwig, stuffing it under his armpit and looking determinedly at his porridge. He hopes he doesn't have ACTUALLY IT'S PART OF YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENT written all over his face.

"It's fine," he shrugs, aiming for casual nonchalance with his tone. "It's just a small thing. No point in going all the way down to Diagon Alley. Besides, the crowds would drive you crazy. They'd probably give you a concussion trying to get a picture."

Sirius grimaces, probably thinking of their last attempt to go for an ice cream at Fortescue's shortly before Harry had left for the fall term. They'd returned to Grimmauld Place ice cream-less and with a giant tear down the front of Harry's robes.

"Nothing a Glamour Charm wouldn't fix," he responds, grabbing his own empty bowl and bringing it to the sink. "Anyway, it's not fair for us to be shut up in this damned house because some people can't behave themselves in public. You just let me know whenever you want to go out, alright? I promise I won't breathe down your neck while you look at potions ingredients and whatnot. Even if they all suspiciously happen to be ingredients for an Enlarging Potion."

He manages to ruffle Harry's hair before the boy squawks out a "Sirius!" and darts out the kitchen, cackling in response to Harry's sputtered "I'm not... I wouldn't... SIRIUS!"

As Christmas approaches, Harry begins to stay up later and later into the night, working frantically to finish Sirius' present. One late night (or early morning, really), he hears a gentle knock on his door. He jumps and shoves the half completed project under his comforter.

"Come in!"

Sirius peeks his head through the cracked open door. "Are you alright? I was getting a glass of water and noticed your light was still on."

Harry nods, trying to convey a casualness he doesn't feel beneath the stress of wanting to have the present ready by Christmas morning. "Yes. Fine. I was just... reading." He reaches for his nightstand and holds up the latest book he's knicked from the Black family library for this exact purpose.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You sure? I've read that one before. Couldn't last more than thirty seconds at a time without falling asleep."

Harry glances at the cover. He hasn't even cracked it open yet. "It's actually quite interesting. I've always been fascinated by... the evolution of wizarding legalese from 1500 to 1800." He internally winces as the subject matter is finally made apparent to his sleep-deprived brain.

Sirius pauses, clearly sensing that something's up. He must decide that now's not the time to probe further because he says, "Alright. You're stronger than me, then. Let me know if you need anything though." He begins to retreat and close the bedroom door but stops right before he actually does. "I forgot, " he murmurs, opening the door wide and stepping fully into Harry's bedroom. He approaches Harry where he's sitting on his bed. Harry tries to discretely shove the half-finished present further under the covers. "You had a letter downstairs. We must have missed it earlier. I only saw it when I was getting water." He hands over a rather thick envelope to Harry, who flips it over, notes the name of the sender, and smiles, relieved.

Sirius lets out a small puff of air, and Harry looks up at the sound. Sirius pastes on a rather strained smile. "Do you often write to Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry's brain scrambles for a response. "Erm. Not really."

He doesn't say anything else, unsure how to explain away the situation convincingly. A rather awkward silence settles between them. Sirius looks as if he's summoning the courage to say something.

Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm here if you ever want to talk, Harry. I know the Weasley's have always been great to you, and I never want to feel like you're getting that taken away. But, I just want you to know that I'm also here, in addition to them. For anything. No questions asked or judgement cast. Alright?"

The letter slips out of Harry's grip, as he frantically waves his hands in front of him, desperate to correct Sirius' perception of the situation. "Oh, no, Sirius, I know! I swear it. We were just... planning Ron's birthday present this year. They wanted to throw him a party." The fib comes easily.

Sirius visibly relaxes. "Oh. Ron's birthday's not until April though."

"Yes," Harry's brain scrambles for an explanation. "But you know how Mrs. Weasley is. Always trying to stay ahead. She's already starting to plan the menu. Fretting between bacon sandwiches or chicken legs for the main course."

Sirius shakes his head, a genuine smile starting to form on his face. "Well you know my vote is always for chicken legs. Assuming I'm invited of course."

"You know you're always invited. Mrs. Weasley always wants an opportunity to make sure you're feeding me properly," Harry rolls his eyes. "And Ron thinks you're pretty cool too. Even though you broke his leg."

Sirius gives him a mock scowl. "Hey now! I wasn't in my right mind that night. And I gave him an owl to make up for it! Even though I was probably doing myself more of a favor than him. That damned owl was driving me mad."

Harry giggles, and Sirius' smile grows wider at the sound. He lets out a dramatic sigh and leans over to ruffle Harry's hair, ignoring the sounds of protest that come in response to the action.

"Alright then, love. I'm off to bed. Shout if you need anything, and I'll be here in faster than you can say chicken legs. You hear me?"

Harry nods. "Yes sir."

Sirius scowls for real this time. "None of that now, remember?"

Harry nods again, this time rather sheepishly. Sirius bends over to kiss his forehead before heading out of the bedroom, shouting a "Good night!" over his shoulder before he closes the door behind him.

Harry sighs in relief, pulls the present out from underneath the comforter, tears open Mrs. Weasley's letter, and gets back to work.

The morning of the 25th is bright and cold.

Harry is a ball of nerves as the breakfast plates get cleared away and the two of them prepare to go to the sitting room to open presents. Padfoot had barged into Harry's room at half past seven, barking loudly and leaping onto the bed, nearly giving Harry a heart attack in the process. He'd only finished Sirius' present in the wee hours of the morning and had barely managed to shove it into his desk drawer before he'd fallen asleep.

Sirius had dragged Harry into the kitchen for special Christmas chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate but had only allowed Harry to start eating once he agreed to don a ridiculously oversized Santa hat that matched the one Sirius had on his own head.

"If I'd known you liked Christmas so much, I'd have taken you to the Muggle mall to get a picture with Santa," Harry grumbles only half-heartedly as he watches the milk heat up on the hob. Sirius was adamant about making hot chocolate the old-fashioned way.

Sirius laughs loudly and hooks his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. "It's our first Christmas together, kiddo! First of many. You can get past your anti-morning attitude for that, can't you?"

"I gueeeeeeees," Harry mock-whines, drawing out the word as he adds the chopped chocolate to the steaming milk. He's secretly pleased that Sirius seems to somewhat enjoy his company. It shows he's not such a terrible charge.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," Sirius states dramatically. He gives Harry one last squeeze before releasing him. "Now come on, let's get to presents. I call going first!" He darts off to the sitting room where, overnight, a large pile of presents has piled in front of the eight-foot tall tree Sirius had dragged home one afternoon (with lots of swearing).

Harry gulps nervously as he pours hot chocolate into two mugs and tops them both with a handful of marshmallows. His hands are slightly shaking as he brings them both to the sitting room. Sirius is poking around the heap of gifts as he enters the room, and Harry spots the hastily wrapped, lumpy package he completed only a few hours ago.

Please like it, please like it, please like it, he silently begs as he sets the mugs on the coffee table. The sight of the gift is almost nauseating, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the hot chocolate.

Sirius turns at the sound to spot Harry and grins. "Alrighty, kiddo, what do you want to unwrap first? I did go a bit overboard this year, you'll have to forgive me. But there's plenty here from your friends!" He's practically vibrating with excitement.

Harry straightens his back and clears his throat. "Actually, do you mind if you do the opening first?"

Sirius pauses. "Are you sure? I swear mine are quite good."

Harry nods vigorously. "Yes. You can start with mine. It's right on top. The green wrapping." Let's just get this over with, he thinks.

Sirius picks up the package and shakes it gently. It makes no noise, and Harry can't help but let out a chuckle despite the knots in his stomach. Sirius grins at him and begins to carefully unwrap the gift.

Harry's legs suddenly feel like treacle tart filling. He lowers himself onto the couch so he doesn't pass out.

The wrapper paper gently falls to the ground, revealing a mound of knit material. Sirius unravels the pile to reveal a rather lumpy, oversized navy blue sweater with a slightly misshapen black dog woven onto the front.

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's heart drops to his stomach. He opens his mouth, desperate to explain away the situation. "It's uh... it's... erm... it's a sweater? I made it?" As if that wasn't fucking obvious, he internally snarls at himself. He shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "Yes, I, um, I made it. That's uh... that's Padfoot. On the front of it. I knitted it."

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's words start coming out faster and faster, hoping something comes out that remedies this clusterfuck of an event. "Mrs. Weasley helped me. She sent me instructions. And the patterns? That 's why she was sending me so many letters. I didn't know how to do it. They aren't throwing a party for Ron."

Sirius still doesn't say anything.

Oh fuck! Harry thinks wildly. He's probably livid I lied. Oh fuck fuck fuck. "I'm sorry I lied to you! I just wanted it to be a surprise," he manages to get out. "That's why I was ordering so much through owl post. I had to get the yarn and the needles. And I kept having to order more yarn because I kept getting frustrated and messing up a lot. I didn't want you to know. Until now, that is. Obviously."

Sirius. Still. Doesn't. Say. Anything.

Harry wants to crawl into a hole and die. But for some stupid, idiotic reason, he keeps speaking. "I wasn't sure if you'd like the color? I actually realized that I don't know what your favorite color is. But whenever Mrs. Weasley makes one for me or for the Weasley kids, she usually does our favorite color. Or house colors. But I figured you have lots of things in Gryffindor colors? Like your wand holster. And then I noticed that you wear a lot of navy. So I thought that might be nice."

If Sirius doesn't say anything, Harry just might call the Knight Bus so he can step in front of it. He decides to get everything off of his chest before he has to do so.

"Mrs... uh... Mrs. Weasley made me one," he explains softly. "My first year. And every year after that. It means a lot to me. I think it was probably the first gift I ever got. And it kind of made me feel like part of their family? A little bit at least. So... so I wanted to give you one. Not from her, of course. But from me. So you could feel like a part of... our family?" His sentence embarrassingly ends like a question, so he hastily tacks on, "If you want to, of course."

Sirius finally moves, and Harry shuts his mouth. He gently sets the sweater down on the armchair next to him, walks over to where Harry is sitting, and pulls him up into the tightest, fiercest hug Harry has ever experienced.

Neither say anything for a few moments. Until Harry can't deal with not being able to breathe and squeaks out, "Uh? Sirius? I can't really inhale."

Sirius releases him quickly and takes a step back. "Sorry."

Harry feels awkward again. He clears his throat, hoping to fill the silence with something. "I hope you like it. But I know it's not done very well. So I can take it apart if you'd rather that. The shop said they'd take the yarn back as long as it wasn't too worn."

Sirius' head snaps up. "What? Harry, my love, I don't not like it. I love it."

Harry's mouth goes dry. "What?"

Sirius gives him a small smile. His eyes look suspiciously glassy. "Harry. You made this for me. You made this for me! It's my favorite color, and it's got me on it! Of course I love it. Not just because you took the time and the effort to make something for me. Because, my goodness, how do you even start with something like this? It must have taken you ages. But also because, well, you said it yourself. I mean, I already felt like part of the same family with the whole adoption bit and knowing you since you were a baby and whatnot, but it's always nice to know you feel the same. And I'm so honored to be a part of your family. Always will be. You have to know that, alright?" Sirius presses their foreheads together. "Alright?"

Harry nods, feeling a little something catch in his throat. He nods.

"Thank you for my gift," Sirius says softly. "I love it. No talk about talking it apart. I'll be proper mad if you do, you hear me?"

Harry nods again. Sirius releases him. He grabs the sweater from the armchair and pulls it over his head. The hem is uneven and the dog looks more like a cat once the sweater settles on his body, but Sirius only looks down at it and grins.

"Now come on, it's your turn to open presents. I don't think any of mine are as good as a handmade sweater, but I hope you like them anyway. And that's got me thinking, we ought to do a Christmas card no? Especially now that I've got a nice sweater on. Mrs. Weasley might tear up at the sight of a photo of the two us. Come on, come on, pick a present."

Harry rolls his eyes without any real heat behind the action. And he doesn't say anything later when he feels a burst of pride when he sees the photo they take in front of the Christmas tree that afternoon, Sirius wearing the sweater with the biggest, proudest smile Harry has ever seen.

He just bottles the feeling and hopes to remember it forever.

[padfootswhiskers]

i wish there were more harry & sirius fics that didn’t feature wolfstar, or sirius/anyone really.

i’m not a huge fan of any of the ships sirius is usually involved in, but in my opinion—sirius is simply too…broken to even THINK about having a romantic relationship. he’s on the run from the Ministry, he’s just escaped after 12 years of literal hell on earth—only to be trapped in the house of his traumatic childhood; not to mention he has to deal with the fact that the entire Order and one of his close friends wholeheartedly believed he was a mass murderer and that he would really betray james.

oh, also—it was his idea to switch secret keepers. something totally non consequential that would have nooooo effect on him in the presence of magical creatures designed to dredge up your worst memories and torment you with them xD

at this point, harry really is his only purpose in life. and he can’t even focus on THAT properly because of how absolutely miserable he is.

sirius black is such an interesting character, and part of the appeal to me is just how doomed by the narrative he is. for all intents and purposes, sirius also died on that terrible night in 1981. he has no prospects, his entire life was stolen from him, and he can’t even fulfill the one purpose he has anymore because he was so intensely fucked over twelve years ago. his entire life, his escape AND his death…was just…pointless. and that’s so fucking tragic it makes me want to curl up and die. and also read a million fics about the short period of time he DID have with harry.

i just wish there were more fics that really dug into this incredible, incredible character, instead of just sticking him into a relationship

[tracingpatternswrites]

Trick or treat my love!

Oooooh, trick or treat indeed.

****

“Okay, ready?” James called from the hallway, and Sirius sat himself up a little straighter. 

“Absolutely,” he called back.

It was Halloween at school, and he’d received a frantic call from James through the mirror earlier that day, saying how Sirius had to come over because Harry refused to leave without showing Sirius his costume first. 

“Here we come!” James called, spluttering something that Sirius assumed was meant to be a drumroll as he stepped into the living room, waving encouraging for Harry to follow him. 

Sirius already knew that whatever outfit Harry had chosen, he would be full of praise, but when he saw the six year old standing there he was suddenly at a complete loss for words. He stared, his mouth agape, until James cleared his throat pointedly. 

“Hazza!” Sirius exclaimed, suddenly remembering himself. “Wow!”

“D’you like it?” his godson asked shyly, scuffing his foot against the floor. 

Sirius looked at him, his black hair which had been carefully magicked to look longer, pulled back in the same messy bun that Sirius himself was currently sporting. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his green eyes shone brightly as they looked expectantly at Sirius. 

He took in the black leather jacket, the white tee shirt, the black trousers and even the pair of black motorcycle boots. He saw the hint of a painted tattoo at Harry’s collarbone and peaking out under the sleeves of his shirt.

“I’m you,” the boy said, as if Sirius couldn’t tell, and he threw his head back to bark out a laugh. 

“So you are!” He said, getting up to stride over to Harry, hoisting the boy into the air to make him laugh delightedly. “This is the best Halloween costume I've ever seen!"

Trick or treat!