The Best Mistakes

Chapter 4: Now a Childless Father

Sirius turned slowly, but Harry was still staring at the tapestry. "That can't be right," he said slowly, sounding to Sirius like he was speaking into the wind. "Why is Mum...?"

Whatever he saw on Sirius' face when he turned swallowed the rest of the question.

"I can explain--"

"Explain?" Harry's brows crumpled. "How do you mean? I thought you said names appeared together when two people married?"

Sirius' throat was dry, his tongue sand. And when he spoke, the words were faint. "Or had a child together..."

Harry didn't react. And then in slow motion, while Sirius struggled for sense, Harry blinked. Shook his head, his lips parting on silence. "I don't..." he finally said hoarsely. "Together?" The word was a squeak.

"Harry..." There was no sense here and that was probably why Sirius couldn't breathe.

James' son. Harry was James' son.

But there was Lily's name connected to his own. And Harry's.

The lineage woven into the tapestry by magic so ancient and powerful, Sirius knew he was staring at truth.

Harry was still shaking his head as his eyes darted to his name and back again to Sirius. "You and Mum?"

"Harry," Sirius said, "I know it is a shock but I can explain--"

"But... why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know," Sirius reached out but Harry bumped the wall as he stepped back; Sirius swallowed. "It wasn't until a few days ago that I even remembered it happened--"

"You forgot you had an affair with my mum?" Harry's cheeks were splotched red, his green eyes saucers, his voice unable to decide where to settle.

"It wasn't what you think--" Harry tried to interrupt but Sirius shook his head. "Harry, I never would have knowingly betrayed James, you have to believe that. Dumbledore told us he was dead--"

Harry was gaping again. "Dead? But Hagrid told me that my dad died trying to stop Voldemort that night. Everyone told me--"

"No, no," Sirius said, his voice thin as he tried to explain. "He wasn't dead, not that night, Harry we only thought he had died and your mother and I were so distraught..."

"You were so distraught, you forgot about it?" Harry's voice was impossibly high.

"I didn't know... not until a few days ago, after I hurt myself in Hogsmeade and Pomfrey found a memory that had been locked up--"

"Locked up?" It was beginning to sound like the room was enchanted with a deranged echo.

"Harry, you have to understand--"

"But my dad..." Harry shook his head, his eyes beginning to glaze as if he was running a fever. "I thought you were best friends..."

"We were," Sirius whispered as pain exploded in his chest.

"But how could you... I mean..." Harry's cheeks had were bright red now. "You had an affair with Mum!" The last word was a squeak.

"We thought James had died," Sirius was tripping all over the words. "There was an explosion and--"

"So you thought he was dead so you slept with her?" Harry whispered. "You and Mum..."

"Harry please, I can explain--"

"I can't believe this," Harry spat as he turned away. Sirius fell silent, as filled with distress at the betrayal of James as Harry obviously was. He wasn't prepared for Harry's next words. "All this time..." Harry's voice was hoarse. "All this time you've been..."

"I know, Harry, I-"

Harry's head jerked up. "You don't know," he said as he shook his head. "You weren't there. You didn't have to live with the Dursleys."

Sirius swallowed. "I'm sorry-"

"Sorry?" Harry said loudly. He punched out a breath and shook his head. "This is bullshit," he muttered and before Sirius could decipher what that meant, Harry brushed past him. His rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor.

oOoOo

It had been over an hour. Sirius drummed his fingers against the table as he stared at the crawling clock hands. More than an hour since he had started watching the clock. He had no idea how long he had stayed in the tapestry room, or how many times he had traversed the myriad stairs, up and down.

He didn't know how long he should wait.

How much time did Harry need?

What am I going to say to him?

Too many emotions were clamoring for space though and as quickly as the thoughts popped up, they darted out again.

Harry is my son.

This was worse than a simple betrayal.

I should have known.

I should have tried to find out for certain.

He looks like James.

Sirius dropped his face into his hands; the ticking clock pounded against his temple until his veins protested the burgeoning headache. Beginning to feel like a coward hiding in the kitchen, he stood. He curled his fingers to still their shaking as he went up the stairs.

Everything was going to be all right.

Harry was still Harry, and that was all that mattered. As soon as he explained and then apologized again Harry would understand that nothing had changed. Even if Sirius had made a dreadful mistake. If Harry could forgive him--

He paused outside the parlour. It was empty. His brow furrowed, he navigated the corridors to the library, but Harry wasn't in there either. And except for the elf heads, the dining room was vacant as well.

"Harry?" he called, his efforts to calm himself useless as his heartbeat spiked. There were dozens of rooms in this house, after all.

The first floor was empty.

The second full of dust and spiders.

"Harry!"

Taking the stairs at a jog now, he ignored the screeching from his mother's portrait as the curtains flew open. He opened every door on the third floor.

The last flight of stairs and Sirius' heart was pounding frantically. "Harry!"

His empty room mocked him.

And Regulus'.

Desperate, Sirius' voice came out sharply as he shouted, "Kreacher!"

The house-elf appeared in front of him, his wide eyes wet and blinking. "Master summoned Kreacher?" he asked in that wobbly voice that Sirius hated so much.

"Where is Harry? Harry," he said through his teeth when the elf continued to blink at him. "The boy who was with me. Harry Potter. Have you seen him?"

"Master's Mudblood son," Kreacher sniffed, "has left."

"Left? Where did he go?"

"Kreacher does not know."

Barely restraining himself from shaking him, Sirius demanded, "How do you know he left?"

"Kreacher saw Master Harry leave." Kreacher turned away, muttering, "Mistress is very glad to be rid of that Mudblood filth--"

Knowing he should wonder how the damn elf had known that Harry was his son, Sirius put that from his mind and transformed into Padfoot, bounding past Kreacher so fast that the elf had to grab the banister to keep from falling. He darted past his mother's portrait--she was still screaming but Sirius blocked out the obscenities and put his nose to the wooden beams once he had skidded onto the first floor.

Harry's scent was everywhere.

Knowing that Dumbledore and Harry had Apparated here, the scent shouldn't be anywhere outside except the stoop. At the front door, Padfoot turned the knob with a giant paw and slipped outside, blinking in the morning sun. There were a few Muggles about, but none of them spared him more than a glance even though he would have seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Padfoot followed Harry's trail down the steps and onto the walk, his anxiety spurring him onward through the streets of London. Where the hell at Harry gone?

Without even telling me.

But Sirius was far too worried for anger to take hold. At least until he had passed King's Cross and realized that Harry's scent was leading him straight to Charing Cross Road and the Leaky Cauldron--and bloody Diagon Alley.

There were no other consistent scents to indicate that Harry had either been pursued here or brought without his permission. Didn't Harry realize that it was bloody stupid to wander in strange cities? Especially when someone wished him harm. Even if they weren't near Hogwarts.

Growling low in his throat, Padfoot finally rounded the corner of a small pub and down the dark alley beside. Keeping himself to the wall, he transformed in shadow. As soon as he had cast a Disillusionment Charm, he transformed again and had a rare wish that he took a smaller form.

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded--as it would be the day after Christmas. The Wizarding street was worse; his paws and tail were trampled on more than once. Harry's trail sent him all over, though at least Harry had had the sense to stay away from Knockturn Alley.

And when Padfoot began to think the search was impossible, he found two familiar scents--Hermione and Ron. There were several others that mingled with them, all of them similar to Ron's. Probably the entire Weasley family.

The trail ended at the entrance to the Floo exchange.

oOoOo

Padfoot found Harry's scent at the odd little house's back door once he had Apparated nearby. Hermione's and Ron's were tangled with it. Of course. It snaked along the garden wall, jumped it at one point and finally led him to a shed--or a garage that looked better suited to a Muggle neighborhood than to a house that was obviously a tangled labor of magic and love.

He had a moment's worry that maybe Harry wasn't inside, that he had got it wrong somehow and with an impatient paw, he opened the door. Whispered voices met his ear and yes, there was Harry.

Sitting on a stack of Muggle tires, with his two shadows on either side, their heads bent close together.

Padfoot closed his eyes, relief and anger colliding so that his chest constricted and heaved in the same instant. He was Sirius again in the next instant.

Hermione looked up. Her eyes widened, which drew Harry's attention. And his face went through several expressions, finally settling on anger. But before he could speak, Sirius demanded, "What were you thinking, leaving like that?"

"I--"

"I had no idea where you were," Sirius ploughed right over Harry. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? I had to follow your scent here, wandering all over London. You're lucky I found you at all!" His voice had risen and by the time the last words emerged, Harry was cringing.

Gritting his teeth against any more of his temper, Sirius said tightly, "You had no business leaving without telling me where you were going, Harry. And when you know something strange is--"

"I spent the entire summer on my own in Surrey," Harry finally found his voice. "And nobody cared about that." He slid off his perch while Sirius stared at him. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm fine."

"He didn't mean to come here," Hermione offered softly.

"Yeah," Ron added in an oddly strained voice, "My family was in Diagon Alley and--"

"It doesn't matter," Harry cut him off brusquely. "You don't have to explain it to him."

Kicked out of his sudden stupor, Sirius frowned. But before he could figure out what to say to that, Harry gestured for his friends to follow him. While they vacillated, Sirius caught Harry's arm, curling his fingers around the elbow when Harry tried to shake him off.

"Listen Harry, I know that you're angry with me but you can't pretend--"

"Pretend what?" Harry demanded, finding the strength to yank his arm away. "Pretend like I don't care about this, just like you pretended?"

Unsure what to do with his hands now, Sirius let them dangle by his sides. "Harry, I told you I didn't know..." He trailed off, remembering they weren't alone.

"I told them," Harry said, his jaw set in a dark line. That same belligerence he had displayed to Dumbledore in the cave when confronted with never going to Hogsmeade again.

Sirius' throat was beginning to ache but he nodded, his hands finally finding a place under his armpits. "All right," he said. "But we still need to talk about this; I want you to understand what happened."

"I understand," Harry said, turning his eyes to the two yellow ducks attached to one of the walls. "You had an affair with my mother. And somehow you forgot about it and then when you remembered it again, you didn't tell me. That's everything, yeah?"

Harry's hands were balled into fists, but there was anxiety in his eyes and it made Sirius' chest tighten. "No, it isn't," he said quietly. "I didn't forget--it's not that simple. And I was as shocked as you when I saw the tapestry."

Harry rounded. "Are you even certain now? It's just some fabric. It might not even be--"

"It is," Sirius interrupted, wanting to put a hand on Harry's shoulder; as if that might steady him--both of them. "That magic can't make a mistake. But we can use a potion to test for paternity if you like..."

Harry's laugh was strangled. "For what? To tell me that I've had a father for thirteen years while I was Dudley's punching bag--" Sirius flinched. "--and living in a cupboard, dreaming of parents that weren't even mine to begin with! What good does any of that do now?"

"You have no idea how sorry I am," Sirius said on a whisper, "that you had to endure that. If I could have done something--"

"Well, you didn't," Harry snapped. "And you can't do anything now either, can you? So it doesn't really matter."

"It matters a great deal to me."

"I don't think your wishes are the most important here," a new voice startled Sirius. He turned, finding Molly and Arthur Weasley, with Ginny, standing in the doorway. "I have already informed Professor Dumbledore that Harry is with us," she said. "There is no need for you to stay."

"With respect," Sirius said through a jaw that was now clenched, "Harry is supposed to be with me."

"I'm not coming," Harry said, glaring at Sirius now.

Holding on to his last shred of patience, Sirius muttered, "You are."

"Why?" Harry asked, his expression suddenly ugly. "Because you're my father?"

"No," Sirius snapped, "because I don't want to have this conversation here."

"Then leave."

Sirius' teeth ground together. "Harry James-"

"Harry James?"

Sirius had never heard that mocking tone from Harry and it made him feel lost somehow, but Harry wasn't done.

"Is that the name you would have chosen?" he said, his lips twisting again. "Or would it have been some sort of name more fit for a Black? You know, if you had given a damn about me after you screwed my mother?"

"Harry..."

Hermione's shocked whisper was immediately drowned out by Harry's growled, "It's the truth isn't it, Sirius? You didn't care about her and you betrayed your best friend-"

"That's enough," Sirius breathed, feeling as though his lungs were collapsing. Even through the pain that was knifing him through the chest, he shook his head. "We can talk about this at home--"

"It isn't my home; it's yours. And I'm not going with you." He backed away and they stood staring at one another, Harry's fury eclipsing Sirius' without any effort.

"I am very sorry," Sirius said very quietly. "For hurting you; and for not being there all those years... but you have to know that I love you very much. And that doesn't have anything to do with sharing blood." Harry continued to glare at him and Sirius found the next words nearly impossible. "If you want to stay here... If Molly doesn't mind..."

"Of course we don't," Molly murmured. She went to Harry, her arm curling about his shoulders and bringing him close as if she had been waiting for it.

Five pairs of eyes stared at Sirius; Harry had turned his gaze to the wall again. His jaw was trembling, though with anger or pain, Sirius could not tell.

"We will take care of him," Molly said, setting her jaw. "This is his home."

"Harry?" Sirius' voice warbled and if had had any dignity left, he might have cared. But Harry wouldn't look at him and there was nothing left for Sirius to do but leave.

oOoOo

Number Twelve was more immense than Sirius had ever imagined. There were too many rooms, too many echoes. But there was no reason to leave. No reason for anything at all.

And when Dumbledore arrived, he almost couldn't find the strength to explain. But the headmaster accepted the news with the same aplomb with which he did everything else.

"Might I see the tapestry?" he asked after he had absorbed the shock. So Sirius led him through the corridors, his arms crossed and his shoulders hunched as Dumbledore traced their names.

Harry James Potter.

It was the lowest name on the tapestry.

The heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

The dark threads seemed darker, ominous as a storm cloud.

He is my son. He is a Black, just as surely as I am.

Impossible pain surged up from his chest until his throat closed around it.

"I imagine it was difficult for Harry to understand," Dumbledore murmured. "How grief affects a person... especially in times of war."

"I don't expect him to," Sirius said, his voice rusty in the quiet. "What I did..."

Dumbledore turned. "What you did was not an act of betrayal, Sirius," he said. "Or cruelty. You cared for Lily in the only way you could. You were both devastated by the apparent loss of James. No one could hold you at fault."

Sirius' lip twisted. "No one except James and Harry."

"You believe Harry will reject you?" Dumbledore asked, his snowy eyebrows colliding. "That he, of all children, will not be happy to have a living father?"

But Sirius shook his head. "He refused to return with me."

"The shock will wear off." Dumbledore rested a gentle hand on his arm. "Harry has a quick temper, but one which recedes just as quickly. I do not think he will stay away for long."

But the day wore into night, and moonlight into sunrise. And when the bell in the kitchen announced a visitor sometime after that, Sirius stumbled, bleary-eyed, up the steps and through the murky corridors.

Remus was feeling his way along the walls but as soon as he saw Sirius, he halted. And when Sirius saw his face, he knew that Remus knew everything. "Fuck," Sirius muttered to no one in particular. "I'm sorry--"

"You look like shit," Remus said. He took Sirius by the elbow, tugged until Sirius had no choice but to go along to the parlour. "Why the hell are you apologizing to me, you git?"

Sirius blinked at him, found no ready answer and was pushed lightly into the chair by the fire.

"You don't owe me one, you know. And if it is because you hadn't told me yet--"

"I should have," Sirius said as he slumped into the chair. "Couldn't though... bloody coward, I am."

"You are not a coward," Remus said calmly; too calmly. "And you've only known for a day."

Sirius squinted at him. "Why aren't you upset about this?"

"What should I be upset about? You didn't intend to hurt James--"

"I slept with his wife!"

"Would you have slept with her if you had known James was alive?"

"What?! No!"

"Had you ever even considered it?"

"Of course I hadn't!" Sirius spluttered as he surged to his feet. "He was my best friend!"

"Then why," Remus asked quietly, his gaze steady, "would I be angry? You didn't set out to hurt him, Padfoot. You couldn't have. Other than Harry, there isn't anyone you have loved more than James." He smiled. "And yes, I realize you think I'm lovely as well."

Sirius rolled his eyes as he grudgingly sat again, his fury abated. But the weight of the past days wrapped around him too quickly. "He's my son," he said as he pressed his fingertips into his knees and tried to bring warmth back. "It's surreal. And it's just been sitting there, in that room for fourteen years. Even my mother knew about it."

Remus cocked his head as he took the chair opposite. "How?"

"I only assume, but Kreacher knows. He referred to Harry as my son yesterday and my mother's screeching about Mudbloods and sullying the family name suddenly makes sense." He lapsed into silence. "He was so angry..."

"He was shocked."

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head. "It was more than that. He was furious with me."

"His entire world has been turned on its end," Remus said, his voice low and soothing, "He isn't who he thought he was--"

"Of course he is. He's the same kid; he same Harry."

"Sirius," Remus said with a sigh. As he shifted, light from the fire danced on his nose and lips. "He was James' Potter's son almost as much as he is The Boy Who Lived--"

"That rubbish," Sirius scoffed.

"Yes, that rubbish," Remus agreed. "The rubbish that has made him famous all over Britain and you know what they all say after they notice the scar. You look just like your father, Harry."

His stomach twisting, Sirius turned his face to the flames. "I said it to him myself. Told him he had Lily's eyes as well..."

"As did I," Remus said, regret twisting his expression. "And even though he has never met either of them, he became their son--tried to be what he thought they would want."

Sirius stared into the flames, and though Remus hadn't meant to hurt him, it felt as though a knife had been plunged into his back.

"He is beginning to do that in regards to you, you know," Remus murmured.

Sirius' eyes flew up. Remus smiled.

"I watched him while we were preparing dinner," he explained. "The way he imitated your movements, asking you if something was all right; so pleased when you approved. He is quite taken with you."

It should have made him smile. And it might have if his insides hadn't been lead.

"Have you eaten anything?" Remus asked.

Apparently, Sirius took too long to answer because Remus sighed and unfastened his cloak, laying it neatly over the back of his chair before saying, "It is nearly noon. I'll be right back."

Sirius watched him leave, only deciding he didn't want to sit there alone when he could no longer here Remus' footsteps. But as he stood, the flames burned green. Hoping sprang to life, only to deflate him a second later when Hermione and Ginny stepped through and onto the rug.

He stared at them. "How did you...?"

"Oh," Hermione said, her face flushing, "Professor Dumbledore revealed the location. He said you wouldn't mind..."

"No, of course not," Sirius amended quickly, stepping aside to allow them to enter the room. "You are welcome here, I just wasn't expecting... Do your parents know you're here?" he asked, turning his attention to Ginny, who he had never actually met, only seen in pictures

"They don't know," she said honestly. "Dumbledore came to dinner yesterday evening. He tried to talk to Harry, but Harry--well, you know how stubborn he is."

Sirius didn't know, so he said nothing.

"Dumbledore offered to bring Harry here, but he wouldn't come," Hermione explained. She fiddled with the edge of a button while she talked. "And Dumbledore suggested that maybe if we offered to come with him he might, but of course Harry wouldn't need that and we already had the location of Grimmauld Place so we thought if Harry wouldn't come back, you could come get him."

Sirius held up a hand, stilling Hermione's babble. "He made it quite plain that he wants to stay with the Weasleys."

Hermione nodded, her brown eyes beginning to shine. "He was confused. He was awful to you, we all know that," she rushed to add. "He didn't mean it though."

Sirius didn't really think that was entirely true. But he wouldn't argue the point. "If he wants to come back, he's welcome to."

Hermione and Ginny traded glances.

Trying not to sound as offended as he felt, he said, "Of course he's welcome here."

"We know," Hermione murmured. "It's just that Harry thinks he's bollixed everything between you."

Ginny folded her arms over her chest and said bluntly, "He thinks you don't want him."

"What?"

"Sirius, the Dursleys hated him," she explained, her voice gentler now but no less fierce somehow. And even though Sirius had already known it, it made him ill to hear it said aloud. "They never wanted him."

"He doesn't understand that families love each other unconditionally," Hermione added. "He never has. He knows he hurt you... only he thinks it's unforgiveable."

"He wants to come home," Ginny said softly. "But he's afraid to ask."

It was more a blow than Harry's refusal to come back with him. "He doesn't need to ask."

"We know that," Ginny echoed Hermione, "but he thinks he does." She smiled a little. "Did I mention that he's stubborn?"

Wondering how Ginny knew so much about Harry, Sirius didn't know what to say. But he wasn't a coward, no matter his claim to Remus. And if Hermione and Ginny were right... if there was a chance that Harry actually did want to come back; that he wasn't still so angry...

"Where is he now?" he asked, running a hand over his stubbled chin.

"Our old tree house," Ginny said. "Ron is with him."

Sirius nodded as his mind worked through how to get himself there.

oOoOo

Climbing a tree house with four paws was much easier than it should have been. But then, Padfoot had executed more complicated maneuvers so he wasted little thought on the ease of the climb as he reached the top and transformed.

As soon as he saw Harry, his heart plummeted.

Harry was staring out the only window, his arms wrapped around his knees; just staring into the distance. Sirius pressed his molars tightly together and forced down a swallow. If he didn't already hate himself for what he'd done to James, he would surely despise himself now.

Ron saw him first; he was sitting sideways next to Harry. Ron smiled at him, which for some reason, made it easier to stand there. But only a little.

Unsure what to do; wanting to take the kid in his arms and hug him until he burst, he swallowed once more through the deep ache beginning to consume him and said as evenly as he could manage, "Hey kid."

Harry's head jerked around. He didn't say anything, just stared at Sirius with eyes that had seen too much.

Sirius cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you would like to come home."

The green eyes were wide now; disbelieving that Sirius could really mean that. Sirius read it in every taut line marring his face. Harry uncurled slowly; moving as if simply turning around took all of his will power.

"I'll tell Mum for you," Ron offered.

Harry glanced sideways at his friend. Ron smiled. With a small wave, he ducked behind Sirius and swung down to catch the stairs.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. And after an anxious moment, Harry swallowed and nodded. Sirius' smile didn't make it all the way as he jerked his head to gesture Harry closer. "We'll Apparate..."

Harry stood stiff as soon as he was close enough and with his stomach in knots, Sirius pulled him in and let the world collapse in a menagerie of colour as he turned on the spot.

oOoOo

Harry stepped away from Sirius as soon as they landed in the kitchen; Sirius had explained that only a Black could get past the anti-apparition wards and Harry wondered if that included him now or he had simply been swept here in the umbrella of Sirius' apparition.

"Would you like some tea?"

Sirius had his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his shoulder hunched and an uncertainty in his face that Harry had never seen before. He wasn't really thirsty but he nodded anyway, sliding into a chair as Sirius turned toward the stove.

Sirius moved around the kitchen nearly soundlessly; he did almost everything that way Harry had noticed. A living shadow, Remus had said once. Only he had been referring to a Dementor.

A tray settled in the middle of the table. "Tea?" Sirius' soft voice broke the awful silence.

Harry nodded quickly; without looking up. He listened to the shushing water as it was poured into one of the delicate cups.

"Biscuit?"

Harry pulled the steaming tea toward his chest, shaking his head only once.

Sirius' chair scraped along the wood; he didn't pour himself any tea. "I don't know what to say." His voice was muffled as if he was pressing his knuckles against his lips--as he sometimes did. "I know I should..."

Harry traced a thumb over the lines crisscrossing his palm, ignoring the soothing scent of peppermint wafting up from his teacup. He couldn't meet Sirius' eye. "I don't know why I'm so angry."

There wasn't even a rustle of fabric as Sirius murmured, "It's all right."

Harry hadn't expected that and he didn't know how to respond. He dared a glance at Sirius, but Sirius was staring at his twisted fingers. Harry shifted, searching for the right words to make an apology. "I'm sorry," he finally mumbled.

Sirius' head came up, a sad smile on his lips. "I do understand," he said softly. "You've every right to be angry."

Harry searched his godfather's eyes. Except they didn't belong to his godfather. He didn't even have a godfather. "I should be glad to have a father." He hadn't meant to say it aloud and as soon as he saw the look on Sirius' face, he wished very fervently that he hadn't. "I didn't mean--"

"You don't need to think of me that way." Sirius pulled his hands onto his lap. "I was very happy simply to be your godfather."

He was even smiling when he said it, but it made Harry's chest tighten. Shouldn't it mean something to Sirius that Harry was his son?

"James is your dad," Sirius added, nodding just a little bit. "And what happened between your mother and me should never have happened. A mistake shouldn't change how you think of your parents."

Harry nodded dumbly, feeling as though he'd been punched. A mistake? He took a sloppy sip of his tea; some of it sloshed over the rim. Sirius frowned.

"Yeah," Harry choked out, cutting off anything that Sirius wanted to say. "It doesn't."

Of course he should have realized that Sirius thought of him that way. And Harry did too. He should anyway. His mum hadn't wanted Sirius to be his father. Obviously. His dad either. And all Sirius saw now when he looked at Harry was the ugly truth that he'd betrayed his best friend.

Except that he knew Sirius wanted him here. Harry took another sip of tea; neatly this time. It would have to be enough.