Three O'clock in the Morning

Three O'clock in the Morning

In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Being With Children

The soul is healed by being with children. -- Fyodor Dostoyevski

Three days had passed since Sirius had visited Wolfgang. Sunday, he counted silently, Monday, Tuesday. Today was Wednesday. He and Regulus had closed the funeral home early so that they could take Thebe and Harry home from Hogwarts. They did not usually have many customers on Wednesdays; it seemed to be an unpopular day to die.

Sirius felt awkward standing on the train platform. First of all, people surrounded him, most of whom he still felt would turn him over to the Aurors who would, in turn, hand him to the Dementors without a second thought. Second, this was no hidden Platform 9 ¾; they stood on a public, concrete hall rubbing shoulders with anyone and everyone catching a train. He reminded himself, again, that, even were this his world, the Dementors had defected to Lord Voldemort and could not come near him to administer the Kiss.

Regulus punched his brother's shoulder amiably. "Come on, brother, don't look so dour. No funerals today!"

The wizard winced at the bad joke. Trans-dimensional travel obviously did not improve the Black sense of humor. "When is the train arriving?" Sirius wanted to get out of this station as soon as possible.

His dark-haired brother checked his wristwatch. "Anytime now, actually. We're the first stop. I pity the poor children who have to ride all the way to London, through Edinburgh and then through Wales before they reach their stop."

Sirius did not bother answering his brother. He wondered why all of the Scottish students in his world had to ride the Hogwarts Express all the way to London only to Floo back to Scotland within the hour. It was uneconomical, but he had never realized that there was another way. Perhaps it was just harder for Muggles to transport their children all around the country.

Then the train pulled into the station, but it took Sirius a moment to realize that it was the Hogwarts train. It was not the scarlet locomotive he has become so accustomed to seeing. It was, well, a train. Just a train. The students were only students. The parents were merely humans living their busy lives. And no one, with the possible exception of the first year students, dreamt of using magic in daily life. Simply standing here, on a steel and concrete platform, amongst a crowd, made Sirius feel more isolated and alone than he had since he left Azkaban.

Then he caught sight of Harry leaving the train. He appeared to be chatting amiably with a familiar brunette. Thebe, all dark hair and bright eyes, stumbled down the steps behind them. Harry turned around and helped his step-cousin carry her trunk out of the train. If Harry had always been small for his age, Thebe was even more delicate. She would be beautiful later in life, but she seemed to love and care for her cousin as a brother, almost in the way Ginny Weasley relied upon the twins to make her laugh.

After seeing to it that his cousin could handle her trunk, Harry resumed his conversation with Hermione. Periodically the girl would look away or say something to a passing student, but Harry did not seem to mind. Sirius felt that he should mind, that his stepson deserved to carry her whole attention, but he was not about to get into the middle of an adolescent friendship. Having been an adolescent himself, he knew that was a bad idea.

Sirius was unduly shocked, though, when Harry dragged his newfound companion over to meet Regulus and himself.

"Er... hello, Harry." Sirius was unsure whether or not he knew Hermione.

Harry smiled uncertainly at his stepfather, obviously hoping this was still the same man who had so kindly reprimanded him for running away from school. "Hello, Sirius. This is Hermione Granger... A friend of mine."

Apparently he did not know the girl. "Hello, Miss Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Hermione, though, did not smile. She shook his hand warmly enough, but she did not smile. Sirius thought this a bit odd, but smiled at her nonetheless. "It is good to meet you as well, Mr. Black. And please call me Hermione."

Harry grinned happily at his friend and godfather. Regulus watched the little group with something akin to amusement, pleased that Harry wanted to bring Sirius into his life, however misguided the effort may be.

"Well, there are my parents," Hermione pointed to a middle-aged couple, older than Sirius and Regulus. The woman had the same bushy hair as her daughter and the man her eyes.

Still smiling, Sirius said, "Let me help you with your trunk. You already have another bag to carry and the younger students have all taken the trolleys already."

Hermione looked slightly disconcerted. "Er... thank you, Mr. Black."

Sirius lifted the admittedly heavy trunk and stumbled over to where the Grangers stood. Obviously the girl's love of hardbound books carried over dimensions and magic. And, sadly, there was no Featherweight or Shrinking Charm to be put upon these tomes. Very sadly. Sirius arms were slightly sore when he braced the trunk against the trolley Dr. Granger had found.

Dr. Granger, Hermione's father, took the heavy trunk from Sirius with a mild grunt. "Thank you."

Sirius brushed the palms of his hands on his knees. "No problem." Once the other man adjusted the trunk so that it would not topple the trolley, Sirius offered him his hand. "Sirius Black."

"Luke Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you. This is my wife, Diana Granger."

Sirius kissed Diana's cheek. "My godson, Harry, here just introduced me to your lovely daughter."

"Godson?" Hermione asked. "Harry told me you were his stepfather."

Sirius nodded. "And so I am."

Luke frowned slightly and Sirius realized that it must be unusual in the Muggle world for such a practice to occur. It was generally expected in the magical world for a friend of the spouse to step in once he or she was widowed. Obviously most friends did not replace the fallen spouses, but, then, the Black family always had been a bit odd.

"I married his mother when he was a baby." Sirius suddenly wished he knew more about his marriage: what drove James to do what he did, why he had been chasing his best friend's wife, when he had proposed, what year he had married, perhaps something about the wedding itself. Ah, he reminded himself, I do know something: I tried to kill the priest with that holy goblet of his.

"Oh," Diana nodded as if that explained everything, though she was eying him just as suspiciously as her husband and daughter.

Damn them for being so intelligent, Sirius silently swore. Clearly his family traditions deviated from the norm. Or, perhaps, he had not continued in a family tradition at all, but had broken all social custom in order to be with Lily. Somehow that explanation made more sense than any of the others.

Harry smiled, shyly, once more at Hermione. "Well... I guess I'll call you sometime... you know, just as friends."

With a quick glance at Sirius, Hermione nodded in agreement. "Sure thing, Harry. We'll get together and go over our summer work sometime."

Harry looked up at Sirius after the Grangers left to catch another train, his emerald eyes sparkling. "Thank you," he whispered.

"What?" Sirius asked, startled.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing."

That kid is strange even when he doesn't have a megalomaniac out for his blood, Sirius decided. He and Harry went over to where Thebe and Regulus were waiting for them, Thebe looking far younger than her years.

"You've got a new girlfriend, eh?" Regulus amiably ribbed Harry as they meandered out of the train station and onto the streets.

Harry blushed an amazing shade of crimson. "Er... we aren't dating or anything, Uncle Regulus. She helps me out with my homework sometimes..."

Regulus grinned at his nephew's embarrassment. "And what do you help her with?"

Either Harry did not pick up on the innuendo or chose to ignore it and preserve Hermione's virtue. "I teach her about football. See, she's always wanted to play, but everyone always told her to just stick to her books, 'cause that's what she's good at. But I know football so sometimes we play a pick up game."

Sirius smiled at Harry, pleased that his godson was in better spirits than he had been when he entered this world. Perhaps he could be something like a responsible adult. "That's wonderful. How did your tests go?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I did my best, though," he quickly added, a note of nervousness in his voice.

The family parted way at the intersection of Main Street and Devon Street. Sirius hoisted the trunk onto his shoulder, watching Regulus and Thebe continue on their way. Slowly, he headed back to his flat with his godson. They did not talk, but they did not need to talk. Somehow they both felt that attempting inane conversation would only smother Harry's newfound trust and Sirius' newfound maturity.

When they finally made their way to the door to the flat, Lily and the scent of delicious cooking greeted them. Sirius was pleased to smell the inviting odor of beef stew. His wife had ceased to make any attempts at venison after a repeat of the Saturday night incident. She had asked him if he had perhaps somehow formed a sudden allergy to the meat. Sirius had not answered her question.

When Harry began to ramble on about school, his marks, and his friends, Sirius could almost pretend that this was home. He could try to believe that Lily was Moony and that Harry was talking about Charms instead of English, and Divination instead of Mathematics. But then Harry started to talk about how well Draco and Hermione would get along, and Sirius world of pretend burst like a soap bubble in the sun.

Harry smiled warmly at his mother. "Hermione spends most of her time reading books, but I'm sure Draco and I can change that over the summer. She's been telling me how she wants to play football."

"I'm not sure that a girl her age should be out playing football with the boys, Harry," Lily warned. "She might want to spend time doing girl things."

Sirius laughed. Hermione wanting to do girl things, indeed! The girl always seemed to speak her mind - even if it would get her killed. "If Hermione says she wants to play football, Lily, I'm sure that's what she wants to do. It isn't as if she would be speaking in code to Harry, where playing football really means trying out some new make-up."

Lily's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. "Of course, dear."

There it was again! Lily calmly backing down, whenever she even appeared to disagree with her husband. Could she really be that different from the Lily he had known, and loved as a sister?

"When will Draco be back? Perhaps we can arrange something for the three of you to get together," Sirius suggested. For some reason, yet unknown to him, the youngest Malfoy had been missing since his first Sunday dinner. As no one seemed particularly worried, he assumed that Draco's absence was a planned one.

"He'll be back in a week. He was so excited to be allowed to go to that conference. Only one student was allowed to attend!" Harry explained excitedly, obviously pleased with his cousin's honor. "He thinks that's what he wants to do as a profession, even though Lucius really doesn't like politics or writing."

Sirius spent the rest of the meal trying to wrap his mind around the idea of a Malfoy who did not enjoy political intrigue, but failed rather miserably. Lily and Harry, though, were content to carry on conversation amongst themselves, planning for Hermione to come and visit that Saturday.

Lily left at seven, to go to her book club meeting. Sirius thought it a bit odd for such a club to meet on Wednesday nights; one in his world would understand that evenings, especially those in summer, were to be devoted to family and friends. These times were meant for children to learn family traditions, taught basic magic theory, for friends to celebrate their lives, and for people to generally enjoy themselves.

Harry claimed exhaustion and Sirius followed his godson into his bedroom, wanting to make sure that Harry's first night back home was a good one. Harry's room was decorated in an eye-watering pattern of silver, red, and yellow. Sirius had only been in there to nab a book or two and then leave, barring his first night in this new world, when his attention had been on his godson, not on Harry's decorative tastes. Sirius could not believe that he was wishing Harry had the fashion sense of Severus. But, then, this world seemed intent upon turning his world and ideas on their collective ears.

Harry puttered about his room for a bit, showing Sirius this bit of memorabilia from when his team won a sporting match, or the toy Sirius had given him when his godfather married his mother, or the poster of his favorite team. Sirius was tempted to poke the poster, especially since Harry knew his secret, but refrained, having realized sometime last week that the pictures in this house would never move.

When Harry finally settled himself into bed (under a duvet with an atrocious design that seemed made to hurt Sirius' eyes), he smiled at his godfather. Sirius tucked him in, forgetting that the boy was fifteen, only remembering when he babysat baby Harry for Lily and James.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Sirius furrowed his brow unconsciously. Why on Earth was Harry thanking him, for being polite to the Grangers? That was only common decency. For suggesting that he play football with his friends? That was only common sense. For redirecting the conversation at dinner? That was self-preservation; he did not want anyone to know why he knew a young girl far better than he ought.

"You told me to talk to Hermione," Harry explained softly. "You said she could be my friend."

Sirius shrugged. "It's not a big deal, Harry. I'm sure you would have become friends eventually."

"No." Harry shook his head vehemently. "I wouldn't. We wouldn't. Neither of us would have, you know, talked to each other." He stretched, kicking at his silver duvet. "Did we really get along in your world?"

Chuckling softly, Sirius sat on the edge of his stepson's bed. "Of course, you did. By the time I came around, the three of you were inseparable."

"The three of us?"

Sirius nodded. "We privately called you the Golden Trio: you, Hermione, and Ron Weasley."

"Ron Weasley? That prat?" Harry exclaimed in shock.

A wolfish grin appeared on Sirius' face. "You wouldn't have called him that. The three of you were something of a terror for the teachers. No matter what, if you got it into your heads that something had to be done; well, the rules be damned, you three would find a way to do it."

"Really?" Harry sounded a bit sleepy. "I can't imagine that... Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Who'd have ever thought of that? What about Draco, would he join us on our escapades?"

"No... you two didn't get along at all. Something like the way you feel about Ron, here. In my world, the Houses have a fierce rivalry and you two are on separate sides of it."

"Really? That's too bad. Sometimes Draco needs someone to tell him to shut up."

Sirius gave a barking laugh. "I think Hermione once said that about Ron, last summer."

Harry grinned up at his godfather and Sirius was pleased to see that this young man did not have the dark shadows in his eyes the world had become accustomed to seeing in his Harry's. "How did me and Hermione and Ron get to be friends, anyway? I mean, if we don't like each other here... There had to be something."

"Well, I've only heard this story - and only once, because I asked Remus about it."

"What happened?"

"According to local legend and the lore of the publicists, you and Ron met at King's Cross on your first day of school-"

"In London?!"

"Do you want to hear this story or not?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, in London. Anyway, you two hit it off pretty well, sharing foods, games, and generally becoming friends. You were Sorted into the same House, took the same classes, and slept in the same dormitory. By the end of September, McGonagall claims that you two were pretty much attached at the waist."

Harry realized that "Sorted" was capitalized and wondered why the Headmistress would be talking to Sirius, especially about him, and where Hermione came into all of this but he wanted to hear the story and kept his mouth shut.

Sirius continued, "You two got along splendidly, but Hermione didn't really have any friends. She's too smart for her own good, that one. Anyway, that rather isolated her from her Housemates because she was always better than they were in classes. But one day Ron pushed her too far by pointing this fact out to her. She ran to the bathroom, crying, and missed the Hallowe'en Feast."

"You know, this doesn't really sound like the cheery, let's-all-be-friends story I was expecting."

"Oh, hush," Sirius said, but he smiled. "We're just getting to the good part. While you and Ron and the rest of the school were having a high old time pigging out on the annual Hallowe'en Feast, Hermione was in the girls' room crying. But then Quirrel - he was one of your professors - let a troll into the castle!"

"What?"

"I know, but he was being possessed by the demonic spirit of Lord Voldemort at the time. Everyone was rushed from the Great Hall to their dormitories, but you and Ron realized that Hermione was probably still in the bathroom. So you disobeyed school rules, not for the first time, I might add, and ran to the girls' room. You locked the door, only to lock Hermione in with the troll. Then you three managed to knock the troll out with his own club, using a spell you had learned just that day in Charms class!"

"Did I do it?"

Sirius looked slightly abashed. "According to my sources, you had your wand up the troll's nose at the time, so I doubt it."

Harry made a face. "Ew. But Ron and I went into the girls' bathroom? Isn't that against the rules or something?"

"Well, it wasn't the last time you did something stupid and against the rules in a girls' bathroom..."

When Lily came home that night, she was shocked that Sirius did not greet her at the door as he had for the past couple weeks. She was even more shocked to walk by Harry's room and hear her husband telling her son a wild story about a boy named Harry who flew on a broomstick and fought a fire- breathing dragon. Lily smiled to herself. She could not remember the last time Sirius had told Harry a bedtime story, and was sure that he had never do so quite this enthusiastically. Despite what happened the last time Harry was home, perhaps the relationship between her husband and her son was improving.