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Prompt: I have a Harry Potter prompt for you. Everything at the end of third year actually goes just fine and Sirius' name gets cleared. Then we get to follow Harry going home with Sirius at the end of the year and adjusting to having a loving guardian. Maybe he has a panic attack about it and recives some much needed comfort.
Bonus points for nicknames like Hare, and pet names like honey, babe, and bud.
More bonus points for Harry having no clue what to call Sirius. - anon
Harry blinks. “So…I can go…with you?”
Sirius looks at him, something dark and warm flickering behind his gaze. Then he slowly reaches out and lays his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Yes, Harry, if you want, you can come home with me.”
“Yes,” Harry says quickly, standing up and almost knocking over the chair in his haste, “I want to go with you, are we leaving now? Do I still take the train back to London? What about—“
He cuts himself off when he notices Lupin chucking and Dumbledore’s amused silence. He glances around to see the Headmaster staring at him with a twinkle in his eyes.
“It seems,” he says, motioning for him to look back at Sirius, “that your enthusiasm is contagious.”
Harry looks back, confused, only to see tears beading at the corners of Sirius’s eyes. “S-Sirius?”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Sirius mutters, swiping angrily at the tears, “just—I’m just happy, Harry, that’s it.”
“Padfoot’s always been soft for you,” comes Lupin’s voice as Sirius whirls around to glare at him.
“Don’t get on a high horse, Moony, we all remember you crying when he was born.”
Harry blinks. “Wait, what?”
“A story,” Dumbledore interrupts, not unkindly, “for another time. For now, Mr. Black, let us allow Harry to say his farewells and pack his things. I’m sure he can meet you at the carriage.”
Sending one last glare at Lupin, Sirius stands up, his hand still firm on Harry’s shoulder. “Take your time, Harry, I’ll—I’ll be here.”
It wasn’t lost on either of them how much those words meant for Sirius to be able to say them with absolute certainty.
“Moony, come on, you can keep me company.”
“Actually,” Lupin says, giving Dumbledore a strange look, “I’d like another word with the Headmaster before we leave.”
Sirius shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
Harry watches the door close behind them and frowns. “Is Professor Lupin mad at Dumbledore?”
Something flickers over Sirius’s expression. “Probably best not to get between them, he’s got a wolfish temper.”
Harry’s mouth drops open in shock. Sirius glances over his shoulder and doubles over with laughter.
“Oh, relax,” he manages through the cackles, “he’s the one who started making that joke in the first place!”
“He’s really alright with joking about it?”
“The first thing,” Sirius announces as they reach the bottom of the staircase, “we are going to teach you the art of making puns about anything and everything.”
“Including all the awful things that’ve happened?”
“Especially about them. What is trauma good for if not to give us the most wicked sense of humor?”
“I am pretty funny.”
“You’re Lily and James’s boy, of course you are.” Sirius claps him on the shoulder and jerks his head in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. “Now go on, get your trunks packed. I’ll meet you down by the front gates.”
Harry grins. “I can’t wait.”
The mad dash through the castle can’t dull the blinding grin on his face, even when his sides ache from stitches and his legs decide they can’t be bothered to lift up and over the steps and he face-plants right outside the Fat Lady.
“Goodness, dear boy!” She leans down to peer at him. “Are you quite alright? I haven’t seen someone fall like that since the last feast!”
“I’m great,” Harry says, still grinning like a loon, “I’m going to go live with Sirius!”
The Fat Lady’s face breaks into a matching grin. “Oh, I’m so happy for you, dear, I tell you, I’ve never been more terrified than when Mr. Black came back here looking for you.”
A bit of the glee fades as Harry tilts his head. That’s right, the Fat Lady would’ve been the portrait for him too, while he was at school. “Do you remember them, then, when they were students?”
“Oh, dearie, I could tell you stories.” She sighs and waves her hand. “But those can wait until later, I’m sure you’ve plenty of packing to do!”
Harry gives her the password and she swings open, promising to tell him those stories if he ever wants to hear them. He clambers through to the common room and spots Ron and Hermione sitting near the fire, obviously waiting for him. Hermione spots him first and takes off in a dead sprint to catch him.
“Oi,” Ron hollers, “that’s not fair, my leg’s still busted!”
“I’m bringing him over to you,” Hermione insists, dragging Harry by his collar, “so that way we can both yell at him.”
“Yell at me?” Harry wrenches her hand off of his collar and pushes his hair out of his eyes. “What’ve I done now?”
“Well, for one,” Hermione says, sitting down with a huff and crossing her arms, “you could’ve given us some warning about Snape and Lupin having a shouting match outside the Great Hall.”
“Wait, they what?”
“Oh, it was glorious,” Ron crows, settling himself into the armchair with all the decorum of a satisfied king, “Lupin told him he’d be better off setting fires with his greasy hair than trying to get himself to look dignified and Snape told him he—“
“He can get the play-by-play later,” Hermione interrupts, even as Ron mouths ‘I’ll write it down’ behind her back, “but he could also explain why we’ve yet to hear from him about the outcome of Sirius’s testimony.”
Harry just grins and tells them. Hermione claps her hands over her mouth when he tells her Sirius has been cleared of all charges and Ron smacks the arm of the chair hard enough to spring up a cloud of dust.
“I knew it!”
“You did not,” Ron says, “you spent the better half of the year telling us Black’d try and curse Harry into oblivion.”
“I was right about the Veritaserum,” Hermione corrects, shaking her finger at the two of them, “honestly, I don’t know why that isn’t an option in most wizarding trials, to consent to use the potion to prove—“
“Anyway,” Ron interrupts, “does that mean that he’s free to go?”
“Even better. I’m going to live with him!”
If their reactions to hearing Sirius was innocent were explosive, now the pair of them are dead silent.
“Er…guys?”
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione whispers, “I’m so happy for you.”
“Really?” Harry shifts uncomfortably. “‘Cause you look like you’d rather I told you they canceled all the exams again.”
“No, Harry,” she says, leaning forward and gripping his arm tightly, “I’m—I’m so happy you’re getting out.”
Harry frowns. “Getting out?”
“Of the Dursley’s,” Ron says faintly, his face as sober it was in the Shrieking Shack, “and living with someone who actually wants you.”
Harry sighs, sinking into the warmth of Hermione’s hand and the soft truth of Ron’s words. “Yeah, that’s…that’s how I feel too.”
After a moment, Ron reaches out and squeezes Harry’s arm too. “I bet you’re excited to get packed, yeah?”
“Yeah, Sirius said he’d be waiting by the gate for me—“
“He what?”
“Harry, lead with that next time!”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” he protests as they all but rip his arms off trying to get him up the stairs, “you’re the ones who dragged me over there!”
“Well, now Ron’s dragging you upstairs!”
“Help me, you git, my leg’s still—“
“Oh, right, sorry.” Harry slips his arm underneath Ron’s and they start climbing the stairs. “I, uh, would’ve told you about this sooner, I just—“
Ron waves him off. “It’s fine, Harry, you’re overwhelmed by it. I get it.”
Harry blinks. “You do?”
Ron pauses, leaning against the handrail as he looks at him. “Yeah, Harry, I do. Now come on, let’s get you out of here and back to your godfather.”
Godfather. Harry has a godfather. He’s going to be living with his godfather. His godfather is waiting for him downstairs.
He doesn’t think he’s ever packed a trunk so fast in his life.
Sirius raises an eyebrow when Harry appears, panting and breathless, staggering under the weight of his trunk and other belongings not an hour later. “Steady, Harry, there’s no need for you to injure yourself.”
“Sorry,” Harry says, all but collapsing as Sirius reaches out to steady him, “just—just excited, that’s all.”
Sirius’s hands stutter on his shoulders but he holds him firm. “Me too, Harry. Me too.”
“How much longer until the carriage is supposed to get here?”
“Should be any minute now, but I think—“ Sirius looks up over Harry’s shoulder— “ah. There he is.”
Harry turns, surprised to see Lupin striding toward them. There’s a furrow between his brows that wasn’t there before but his gaze softens when he lays eyes on them. “There you are. Harry, you pack very fast.”
Harry finds his cheeks beginning to redden. “Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to make you look for me.”
“None of that, you’re excited to leave, I understand.” He gives Sirius a look. “Did Sirius explain where you two are going?”
“Er, not yet.”
“He just got here,” Sirius defends when Lupin gives him a withering look, “and then you showed up.”
“So are you going to tell him, or shall I?”
“Why, Moony, I didn’t realize you were so keen to pick up where we left off. Hey!” Sirius winces as Lupin smacks him upside the head. “I’ve just gotten out of Azkaban, take it easy!”
“You’ll live,” Lupin says dryly, turning back to Harry, “your godfather is quite dramatic.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“You are Lily’s kid,” Sirius grumbles.
“Wait, what?”
“Oh, yeah, James may have been the trouble maker but Lily was the one who would mouth off to professors and tell them exactly where they could stick it.”
“Please tell me everything about my mother right now.”
“Harry,” Lupin chides, even though he’s smiling as he does it, “why don’t we explain to you what your living situation is going to be before we do that?”
“Spoilsport.”
Harry sighs. “Okay. So where are we going?”
Sirius sobers a little, straightening up and dusting himself off a little. “My family’s house, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, is, er, the house that we will be living in. But since I’ve been slightly preoccupied—“
Lupin rolls his eyes.
“—it’s fallen into some disrepair, I’m sure.” He wrinkles his nose. “Kreacher probably hasn’t done much to keep it in shape.”
“Kreacher?”
“House elf.”
“Oh.” Harry blinks. “Wait, you had a house-elf?”
“Harry,” Sirius says in a low voice, “my family was…have you…alright, we can do this later.”
Harry nods, a little confused. “Okay. So is that where we’re going?”
“No. Not right away at least.” Sirius glances at Lupin. “The house is probably infested with boggarts and doxies by now, we’ll have to clear it out before we can move back in.”
A sinking feeling takes over Harry’s stomach. “Does that mean I won’t get to live with you right away?”
“No, Harry, you’re coming with me,” Sirius says firmly, only to blink and stammer a few seconds later. “I mean, as long as you still want to—“
“I do,” Harry says as quickly as he can, “I do, I really do.”
“Good.”
Lupin clears his throat. “I’ve got a place to stay over the summer,” he explains, “Dumbledore graciously helped set it up.”
Sirius hides a snort.
“You two can stay there with me until we’ve cleaned up Grimmauld Place enough for you two to move back in.”
Harry adjusts his grip on Hedwig’s cage as the carriage pulls up. “Are you coming with us now, then, sir?”
“‘Sir,’” Sirius whispers.
“You can call me Remus when we’re not in class, Harry,” Lupin—Remus says with a small smile, “it’s alright.”
“…Remus, then.”
“Or Uncle Moony,” Sirius suggests, even as Remus gives him a look.
“…no.”
Sirius laughs as they start to load everything onto the carriage. “Don’t look at me like that, Moony.”
“I’ll look at you how I like.”
“Ooh, scandalous.”
Harry briefly considered if this was how he wanted to spend his next three months. Then Sirius’s gaze softened and he clapped Remus gently on the shoulder. The look they exchanged spoke more than words could and he knew he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Harry?”
He blinks. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry, it’s alright.” Remus holds out his hand to help him up into the carriage. “I’ll be coming with you to make sure you get into the house alright, then I’ll start cleaning out Grimmauld Place.”
“Wait, we can help—“
“It’s important for you to get used to living somewhere else,” Remus corrects gently, “plus, I’ve…got a bit of energy to work out.”
Sirius sniggers. “And I guess you want to do that by yourself?”
“Oh, don’t act like you don’t want to help Harry settle in.”
Harry looks back and forth between them. “Is there…something I should know?”
“My meeting with the Headmaster has left me slightly annoyed,” Remus says, turning to stare out of the window.
“That’s Moony for ‘pissed as hell,’” Sirius whispers.
“At...me?”
“No, Harry,” Remus says, turning to face him, “never at you. Just at the circumstances by which Sirius is finally allowed to serve as your legal guardian.”
Sirius reaches out and squeezes Harry’s hand. “It’ll be alright, now, I’m here for you.”
The dry warmth of his palm settles in the pit of Harry’s stomach as the carriage pulls up outside the grounds. Remus helps them down and Harry clutches his trunk. Sirius grips his forearm carefully as Remus takes his other hand.
“Wait, is it here?”
“No, we’re going to Apparate.”
“We’re—what?”
“Apparition,” Remus explains, “it’s how wizards can travel large distances without brooms or the Floo Network.”
“Er, how does it work?”
“It’s advanced magic,” Sirius says, “and I honestly don’t know if I understand it enough to explain.”
“Sirius Black, admitting he doesn’t know something,” Remus murmurs, “will wonders never cease?”
“Are we going to stand here on this pavement all day or are we going to get this boy home?”
Home.
“Hold on,” Remus warns, “Apparating for the first time can be uncomfortable.”
Harry swallows and squeezes his eyes shut. He feels Remus turn sharply away from him and everything goes dark. Pressure squeezes in on him from all sides, almost as if he were being squeezed through a very narrow rubber tube. His eyes roll back in his head and his skull creaks.
“Harry? Harry, are you alright?”
“Damnit, Moony, we should’ve given him more warning.”
“It’s alright, Harry, you’re alright, now, it’s over.”
“He hasn’t vomited yet, that’s impressive.”
Two warm hands land on his shoulders, one rubbing firmly to help assuage the worst of the tremors wracking his body, the other keeping him upright. He swallows the bile at the back of his throat and lets out a shaky breath.
“S-Sirius?”
“I’m here, Harry, it’s alright, you did very well.” Sirius’s weight is warm and solid and Harry leans into it gratefully. “Come on, that’s it, let’s get you inside, then you can have a proper sit.”
Harry fumbles with his trunk, his arms like jelly, only for another strong grip to take it from him.
“I’ve got them,” Remus says, “just in here. I’m sorry, Harry, I should’ve warned you.”
“‘M alright,” Harry mumbles, “I jus’—jus’ need a second.”
“You can take as long as you need, let’s just get you inside.”
Harry finds himself being guided up a small set of steps and through a door, blinking hazily as he catches sight of worn curtains, a ragged couch, and a thin carpet. Shafts of light come through as he gets some of his vision back, peering around to see a small living room with worn floorboards and another door leading to a hallway. Sirius crouches in front of him, one hand still on his shoulder.
“Most people vomit the first time they Apparate,” he says lowly, “I’m impressed you didn’t.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” Harry croaks, “I think I’d prefer brooms.”
“You and me both.”
“Ah, Harry,” Remus says, bustling back into the living room with a glass of water, “you’re alright.”
Harry doesn’t miss the slight guilt behind his relieved tone and accepts the water gratefully. “I’m fine, s—Remus, thanks.”
He nods, but he doesn’t look completely convinced. “It’s not much, I’m afraid, but it should be enough for the three of us to be comfortable for a while.”
“Easy,” Sirius says, pushing him back when he tries to stand, “take another moment, get your legs back under you.”
“I’m fine,” Harry protests, “I just needed a second. I can stand now, I’m all good.”
Sirius still hovers around him as he stands up, as if ready to grab him. Harry shakes himself a few times to get his bearings back before he looks around. His trunk and other things lie just inside the door where they must’ve been deposited in a hurry. He moves to get them when Sirius and Remus get there first.
“I can carry my own stuff,” he says, trying not to make it a whine.
“We know, Harry.” Sirius claps him on the shoulder. “But we’re here to help. Now come on, your room’s up here.”
“My…room?”
Sirius gives him a strange look. “Yeah, Harry, your room. What, you didn’t think Moony’d make us all cram into one room, did you?”
Harry stays quiet. That…is kind of what he was expecting. Either that or he’d be camping out on the couch downstairs. In the pause, he misses the way Sirius’s grip on the trunk tightens.
“In here,” Remus says, opening a door and setting Hedwig’s cage on a dresser.
Harry’s eyes widen. It’s not as big as Dudley’s second bedroom, but it has a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a closet. The window didn’t even have bars on it.
“I know it’s not much,” comes Remus’s hesitant voice, “but I hope it—“
Harry drops the coat in his arms and whirls around to hug Remus as tightly as possible.
Remus gasps, arms instinctively flying around him to hold on. “Harry?”
“It’s perfect,” he mumbles, muffled against Remus’s robes, “it’s—it’s perfect.”
Sirius chuckles from the doorway. “Mind out, let me put the rest of this down.”
Remus moves them out of the way as Sirius sets the trunk and broomstick down on the ground, coming back over to ruffle Harry’s hair. It flops into his face and he blows it out of the way.
“Alright,” Remus says, giving Harry’s shoulder a pat, “I’m going to go see what we’ve got in the way of food, why don’t you two settle in up here?”
“D’you want help unpacking, Harry, or…?”
“N-no, I think I’ll manage.”
Sirius nods. “I’ll be right outside if you need me. Just yell, this house is small.”
“And not very soundproof,” Remus says, giving Sirius a look as they leave the room.
What does that mean?
Harry shakes his head and starts to fiddle with the latch on his trunk. He won’t even have to cram his things under the floorboards, he could just…keep them in the dresser? Or maybe Sirius and Remus would want to use this one for their things too. Was this the only dresser? He’d better keep some of his things in the trunk just to be safe.
He sets Hedwig’s cage on the side closest to the window, promising he’ll let her out in a moment. She nuzzles his hand with her beak and he feeds her a treat. Oh, he should send letters to Ron and Hermione letting them know. Maybe he should do that first.
He turns to fetch his quill and—
His elbow catches the lamp on the end of the dresser.
His eyes widen in horror.
The lamp falls and shatters on the sharp edge of his trunk.
Porcelain shards go everywhere.
He stares at it.
The house is small. It isn’t very soundproof. There’s no way no one heard that. Maybe he can clean it up before they come upstairs. Then he can—no, they would’ve known it was here. They won’t believe him if he says it wasn’t. He can clean it up quickly.
He crouches down and starts scooping the shards into his hands. There are so many of them. His hand starts to hurt from the weight of all of the pieces. Why are there so many pieces?
Stupid boy, can’t even pick up after himself properly.
He starts cleaning faster. He can do this, he can pick up after himself. If there’s one thing he’s been good at since before he learned he has magic, it’s cleaning up after himself. He picks up another shard. He can do this. He can prove this wasn’t a mistake.
Will Sirius be upset? Will Professor Lupin be upset? This is his house, after all, this is—was his lamp. Maybe the professor will decide he doesn’t want Harry in his house anymore, but then what will happen to Sirius? Sirius has to have somewhere to live, Harry can always go back to the Dursley’s, but what about Sirius? Will he be okay staying here without Harry? Maybe Harry can go help the professor clear out the other house and stay there—
But why would Sirius want Harry in that house, if he’s only been here five minutes and he’s already broken something?
“Harry? Harry!”
That sounds like Sirius. Oh, he doesn’t want Sirius to be angry at him.
“Harry, you’re—Merlin, you’re bleeding, what—come here—“
A hand touches his shoulder and he flinches before he realizes it.
The room is silent behind the rush of blood pounding in his ears. Then there’s a slow breath from above him and a figure lowers itself to kneel in front of him.
“Harry,” comes Sirius’s voice again, softer now, “Harry, can you look at me, please?”
He hasn’t seen Sirius mad before. He’s not sure he wants to.
“I’m not angry with you, pup, look at me.”
He’s…not? Why isn’t he angry?
“Come on, there you go,” Sirius murmurs again as Harry slowly lifts his head, “that’s it.”
Sirius doesn’t look angry. His face is drawn in concern, eyes not on the shattered remains of the lamp in Harry’s hands but on his face and the way he’s trembling slightly.
“Harry,” he says in a soft, firm voice, “let go of the pieces.”
What? No, he has to clean up after himself, he has to—
“You’re hurting yourself, pup,” Sirius’s voice interrupts, “you’re bleeding.”
Warm and steady hands cup around his and he looks back down, eyes widening as he realizes Sirius is right.
“I’m—I’m sorry—“
“Shh, shh, pup, it’s alright, just let go for me.” Sirius’s fingers carefully and gently pry Harry’s shaking ones away from the shards of porcelain. “That’s it, that’s it.”
They fall to the floor, staining the floor. He’s made the mess worse.
“Eyes on me again, pup,” Sirius encourages, “back to me, Harry. That’s it, little cub, back here.”
Harry’s head jerks up again, his hands beginning to shake with more intensity. Sirius takes a big exaggerated breath and lets it out slowly.
“Like that, cub, copy me.”
Harry tries, but his lungs don’t want to cooperate and why isn’t Sirius mad?
Is he waiting? For Harry to calm down before getting angry?
“I’m not going to get angry, Harry.”
Did he say that out loud?
“Yes, pup, you did. It’s alright, just keep trying to breathe with me. In and out, come on, little cub, just like that, very good.”
Sirius holds his hands gently as they breathe on the floor until Harry’s knees start to ache from being pressed against the hard boards. Sirius tuts when he tries to apologize again, reaching out to wipe away a tear from his cheek.
“None of that, little pup, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
In an instant, all of Harry’s muscles tense. A trap. He remembers Petunia’s sugar-sweet demeanor changing on a dime, remembers Vernon’s horrifically loud laughter as he told Harry exactly what he did wrong. But before another wave can overwhelm him, Sirius is cupping his face in his hands, calling his name insistently.
“Harry. Harry. This isn’t a trap. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m telling you you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re safe, little pup, I’ve got you, I’m right here.”
“What—why—“ Harry gasps— “what’s happening?”
“You’re having a panic attack, cub,” Sirius explains gently, “and I need you to breathe for me.”
“It’s h-hard.”
“I know, pup, I know. Just try and slow down, stay with me here. I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere.”
Tension coils up in Harry’s throat until he feels as though he’s about to throw up again. He’d take Apparating over this. But Sirius’s hands are warm and his breaths stay steady and even.
“That’s it, little pup,” he says again as Harry finally lets out a slow, shaky breath, “just like that. Keep doing that, alright?”
It takes several more minutes for him to calm down the rest of the way, just to get his breathing back where his lungs don’t feel like someone’s poured Polyjuice Potion in them. Sirius cups the back of his neck and gives it a soft squeeze.
“Harry? You with me?”
He nods, shame beginning to take the place of the terror. Of course Sirius wouldn’t hurt him, of course he wouldn’t beat him, he wasn’t the Dursley’s.
“Was it the lamp that fell?”
“Y-yeah.”
Sirius nods, taking his wand from the spot on the floor and muttering: “Reparo.”
The lamp flies back together as if it’d never been touched.
Right. Magic.
“Let me see your hands, pup,” Sirius says, holding out his own, “those are some nasty cuts.”
Harry’s hands tremble as Sirius carefully runs his wand over his palms, healing the wounds before he can say anything and hushing any protests.
“There,” he says, stashing his wand away, “all better now.”
“Th-thanks,” Harry mumbles, shame still coloring his cheeks, “didn’t mean to.”
“I don’t keep lamps around for that very reason.”
It startles a giggle out of him, at any rate, but he won’t meet Sirius’s eye. Sirius lets out a soft noise, reaching out to tip his chin up.
“What’s the matter, little cub?”
“S-sorry for…overreacting.”
Sirius is quiet for a moment. When he speaks, it’s with the same grave tone Harry remembers from earlier in the year, when it shook his limbs and everything he thought was true was upended in a moment.
“Harry,” he says slowly, “believe me when I say you were not overreacting and I will never be cross with you for it.”
Harry’s eyes widen. “What?”
But Sirius doesn’t know what he meant, what he was thinking, how could he have thought that Sirius was like the Dursley’s—
“I didn’t want to tell you this so soon,” Sirius says carefully, “but…it might help.”
He settles Harry into a more comfortable position on the floor and takes a deep breath. Something settles over his shoulders.
“The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” he says with a strange note in his voice, “is one of the largest, oldest, and wealthiest pure-blooded wizarding families in Great Britain, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Which basically means they were right pricks and didn’t give a single gobshite about anything that wasn’t about ‘remaining pure.’”
Harry nods, not understanding where this is going.
“I…disagreed with the obsession my family had with that,” Sirius says slowly, “and my family…disagreed with me.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
“So no, Harry,” Sirius says, gripping his shoulder, “I will never be cross with you. Not for that.”
“H-how did you—“
“I know what it looks like,” Sirius interrupts gently, “I’ve…made those faces before, Harry.”
Harry’s lower lip trembles.
“Come here, pup—oof!”
Harry almost knocks Sirius over with the force of the hug. The older man chuckles, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry and holding him close. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in the crook of Sirius’s neck. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s not going back to the Dursley’s. He’s staying here. He’s staying here, with his godfather, and he’s safe.
“Of course you’re safe, pup,” Sirius murmurs, “I’ll never let anything harm you here.”
“Are you two alright?”
Harry peeks up over Sirius’s shoulder to see Lupin standing there. He catches sight of Harry’s tear-stained face and crouches down, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
“Chocolate?”
“Chocolate,” Harry mumbles, “thanks, s—Remus.”
“Of course, Harry.”
“What about me?”
“Dogs can’t have chocolate,” Remus calls over his shoulder as he leaves, prompting Sirius to grumble something about how he used to point out that Sirius wasn’t a real dog anyway.
“S-Sirius?”
“Yes, pup?”
“What—what do I call you?”
Sirius ruffles his hair. “Whatever you want, pup. Sirius, Black, Padfoot, Best Hair, Most Handsome Man in the Room—“
“Dadfoot.”
Both of them look up as Remus enters the room, holding out chocolate bars for both Harry and Sirius. He raises an eyebrow.
“Dadfoot,” he repeats, completely seriously.
“…okay, Uncle Moony.”
The three of the fill the small house with laughter.