A Life More Ordinary

Number Four Privet Drive--May 1985

"Hello, Harry," the tall man with dark, wavy hair said quietly, "I'm Sirius."

"Hello, sir," Harry whispered.

The tall man's eyebrows scrunched together as he peered down. "You can call me Sirius."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes sir."

The man smiled. And then he crouched down slowly until Harry could see his grey eyes, and the skin crinkling around them. He was still smiling so Harry didn't mind when he put his hands carefully on his shoulders.

"Just Sirius, Harry," he said. The lines around the man's--Sirius'--eyes deepened and he moved one of those large hands so that his thumb was lightly brushing across one of Harry's cheeks. "I'm your godfather," he said, so quietly that Harry had to strain to hear him. "That means that I was a friend of your parents... A long time ago they asked me to take care of you. You're going to come live with me-" Sirius cleared his throat. "-if you want to."

Harry stared, nearly too startled to remember that it wasn't polite not to speak when you were spoken to. "Live with you..."

"It is your choice, of course, Harry. No one will force you to leave your home here, if you do not wish to."

Harry looked up, squinting at the tall, white-haired man towering above Sirius. He was wearing a bright blue, pointy hat on his head. And he was smiling as well through his snowy beard, so Harry supposed he didn't need to be frightened. Harry turned back to Sirius, who was watching him and looking a little bit like he was holding his breath.

"You're my... godfather? Is that the right word?"

Sirius started breathing again. That smile was back on his face, and it made Harry smile a little as well.

"Yes, I am," Sirius said, nodding.

Harry glanced at his aunt and uncle--and Dudley, who were huddled together just inside the parlor. Sirius' eyes had moved with him, and now he was frowning. But as soon as Harry turned again, Sirius' eyes were in front of his again.

"You want me to live with you?" Harry asked, trying not to fidget or look away. He didn't want to be rude, even if he didn't believe the smiling man who said he was Harry's godfather--which sounded pretty important to Harry.

Sirius nodded solemnly. "More than anything, Harry." He cleared his throat again, and Harry wondered why he sounded so nervous. "I've prepared a room for you."

Now it was Harry who was certain he was no longer breathing. "A room?" he echoed breathlessly. "For me?" he squeaked; is glasses slipped down his nose in his excitement. Sirius tilted his head, and his eyes squinted just like he was confused as he reached out to straighten Harry's glasses.

"Of course," he said as he nodded. "You'll have to tell me the colors you like, for the bedspread and things like that. I didn't know what you'd fancy-"

His heart about to burst, Harry catapulted himself at Sirius.

"...oomph," Sirius breathed, and before Harry could right himself, or even figure out that he needed to, he was wrapped in strong arms, his glasses askew and his nose pressed right into Sirius' soft shirt. There was a quiet laugh near Harry's ear; he could feel it vibrating in Sirius' chest.

"Is that a yes, then?" Sirius whispered. And all Harry could do was nod; he didn't want to cry, after all. Nearly five-year olds didn't cry over new rooms, even if they'd never had one before. Sirius' arms tightened around Harry, and that was all the permission Harry needed to wrap his arms around his godfather's neck.

With one smooth motion, as if Harry weighed nothing at all, Sirius was standing, still holding Harry tightly in his arms.

"Let's go, Albus," Harry heard Sirius say, his voice shaking. Harry lifted his head, and he could see the Dursleys staring at him. They didn't even try to stop him. Sirius' arms tightened again as they passed the parlor; Harry buried his face in his godfather's neck and let Sirius take him away.

--

The Muggle cab stopped across the street from his childhood home and with a quiet thanks, Sirius paid the fare with the pound notes he'd exchanged Galleons for at Gringotts.

"This is London, Harry," he explained as his godson scooted out of the taxi. "Have you ever been to London?"

"No, sir," Harry answered quietly.

"Just Sirius."

The gentle correction made Harry glance up; his green eyes were nervous behind the spectacles.

Sirius smiled and pointed across the street to the row of townhouses. "That's where we're going to live. Number twelve." Harry nodded but didn't say anything. "Shall we go in?"

Sirius gave his godson an encouraging smile, which Harry almost returned. Sirius held out a hand and after a long moment, Harry took it; Sirius squeezed the smaller hand lightly.

They crossed the street and Sirius found his stomach swirling with anxiety. What if Harry didn't like his new home? Though, after Albus had explained just how Harry had been treated at the Dursleys, Sirius knew anything would probably be welcome. The thought made him nauseous, as it had for weeks now, while he'd been forced to recover before Albus would allow him to see Harry.

Encouraged by the tightening grip against his fingers, Sirius picked up the pace as they walked up the steps. He was suddenly very grateful to Albus and his army of house-elves as he opened the front door. The parlour, painted in a fresh coat of white, looked perfectly inviting, if a bit bare.

Sirius put a light hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "Go ahead, Harry."

Harry stepped over the threshold without any more prodding; his eyes were wide as he looked around.

"We'll need to get more furniture, I think," Sirius said. "And perhaps a picture or two."

Harry nodded politely as he shifted from foot to foot.

"Would you like to see your room?" Sirius asked. Harry nodded again, a shy smile lighting his face this time and at the tiny display of pleasure, Sirius realized just how excited his godson must be. "Let's go on up, then."

Harry's eyes continued to dart around as they walked together up the first flight of stairs, and Sirius vowed to thank Albus for employing such industrious elves--the portrait of his mother had finally been removed with several extremely powerful blasting charms.

"My room is the one on the left," Sirius said when they reached the landing.

Harry nodded solemnly. "I'll remember, sir."

Sirius almost sighed; they'd really have to work on this, it seemed.

"Sirius," he said, emphasizing it with a little nod this time. He crouched down again so that Harry didn't have to strain his neck. "I really would like you to call me that, Harry," he said, making certain his voice remained low and soothing. "I know your aunt and uncle probably told you that it's polite to call your elders sir and ma'am and for most adults, that's true. But I'm just Sirius, all right?"

Harry studied him, and Sirius could clearly see the uncertainty in his green eyes, but then Harry squared his shoulders and nodded. "I'll try to remember."

Sirius smiled--he could practically hear the 'sir' hanging in the air. Harry returned the smile this time, so Sirius reached out carefully to take Harry's shoulders; he turned him to face the other room.

"And this," he said as he gazed over his godson's shoulder, "is your room."

There was silence, and then Harry walked forward slowly until he was in the room. He turned in a full circle before his eyes came back to stare at Sirius. "All of it?"

"All of it."

This time, Harry looked like he was trying not to bounce on his toes as he smiled. "Thank you, sir... erm... Sirius, sir..."

The exuberance faded quickly but Sirius chuckled and gave his confused godson a wink. "We'll work on it." That earned him a somewhat shy smile.

Deciding to ignore Albus' advice that he wait to spring the news on Harry that there really were witches and wizards--and magic, Sirius sat on the bed Albus had purchased weeks ago just for Harry. "I want to show you something," he said.

Harry's eyes immediately became wary behind his spectacles, but he nodded.

Very slowly, Sirius withdrew his wand from his sleeve. "Your aunt and uncle-" Sirius kept the venom from his tone with extreme care. "-didn't tell you much about your parents, did they?"

Harry shook his head. "They died in a car accident... Aunt Petunia said it was because my dad was drunk."

Sirius spine straightened and his mouth flopped open. "What?"

Harry took a step back, and Sirius quickly shut his mouth and forced his muscles to relax.

"It's all right, Harry," he said, smiling a little to ease the worry lines around his godson's eyes. "Your aunt... must have been mistaken. Your parents didn't die in an accident and your dad wasn't drunk."

Harry cocked his head. "Aunt Petunia said he drank a lot... my mum too. They couldn't keep a job."

A very familiar rage boiled through Sirius then; the same rage that had cost him almost four years of Harry's life--and Remus. But Harry was gazing at him with curious green eyes; eyes that were oddly trusting. Much more than they should have been. So he drew a slow breath through his nostrils and gently shook his head.

"Your mum and dad were wonderful people, Harry," he said. "Your aunt... didn't know them very well. They loved you very much. And you dad had a very important job."

"He did?" The eager question startled Sirius a bit, but he smiled and nodded.

"Absolutely. When you were just a little baby, there was a war--a very bad man was trying to hurt a lot of people and your dad's job was to try to stop him."

"Yeah?" Harry's eyes were sparkling the same way Lily's used to just after she'd finished a new book. "Did you help my dad?"

"I did," Sirius said with a small nod. "And this bad man we were fighting; he was a wizard."

Harry's eyes were round. "A wizard with magic?"

"Yes," Sirius said, trying not to smile at the awe in Harry's tone. "And your father was a wizard too... with magic."

Harry's brows drew together and his eyes narrowed. "Magic isn't real," he said with a firm note of a disapproval in his voice--Petunia's doing, no doubt. She and her husband had tried to force Albus out bodily when he announced who he was.

Sirius held out his wand. "It is very real, Harry. Your mum was magical too."

"She was a wizard?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Girls with magic are called witches-"

"Witches are ugly and they frighten babies," Harry interrupted matter-of-factly.

Sirius shook his head. "Your mum was very beautiful. You have her eyes."

Harry looked startled. "I do?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "Would you like to see a picture of your parents?"

Harry's eyebrows flew up behind his black fringe. "You have a picture?"

"Quite a few, actually," Sirius said, grinning at the excitement in his godson's green eyes--excitement which he was so obviously trying to hide. "They're in my bedroom."

Harry didn't answer but it was a very emphatic sort of silence, so Sirius stood. He paused when he reached the corridor--sans Harry. He turned to find his godson still standing near the bed, his small hands twisted into his shirt front.

"Wouldn't you like to come with me?" Sirius asked softly.

Harry blinked and with Sirius' encouraging smile and the little boy nodded and walked across the room.

"I'm not allowed to go into my aunt and uncle's room," Harry said in a low voice. "Dudley was allowed, even when he had nightmares..."

Sirius swallowed through a throat that was suddenly very raw. "You may come in my room any time," he said, catching Harry's gaze. "Especially if you have a nightmare."

Harry seemed to be searching his face as he gazed up. And finally, the corners of his mouth turned up. Sirius smiled; he wove his fingers lightly through Harry's hair and the two of them stepped into his room.