"Don't worry about it, love." Sirius released a great sigh, his eyes downtrodden like when he was a dog and people refused to feed him table scraps.
"No! Just tell me, I don't understand. I created my… you know," he murmured, tapping the ring. Sirius' gaze dropped to the innocuous signet ring and flinched. "So you should be mad at me too, not just her."
Sirius put up several privacy charms, too little too late, in Harry's opinion as he was still butthurt over the impromptu sex talk.
"Harry, I have been doing little else these past months but study those things and they horrify me. It pains me to imagine something so awful happening to you. You cut out a part of your soul! I can't even fathom what that might have done to your development. I know that the rules of necromancy are different, but I thought Alabasandria was better than that. She'd never struck me as the type of person who would directly harm a child in such a vile, unspeakable way. I am not mad at you, I swear. I'm mad on your behalf that this has been done to you."
Harry frowned and thought it over. Was it really that bad?
"Honestly, Sirius, that was like one of the least traumatizing things that's ever happened to me."
"But you didn't do it willingly, she forced you! You were a child!" Sirius shouted.
"I guess she made me, but I had to do it to learn necromancy. It was kind of scary, but I didn't mind in the end, really. I'm not mad at mama about it, so you shouldn't be either." Harry crossed his arms and glared at the man.
Sirius sighed and threw back his head to rest against the worn fabric of the small booth. He regretted only ordering a butterbeer. How could he explain his dilemma to a boy with entirely inconsistent, ever-changing opinions about morality and ethics?
He knew Harry wasn't normal, he had accepted that, truly he had. His sanity had been tested and stretched to the limits while adapting to his loving, bloodthirsty boy. But the solace he had held throughout the whole time, was his unshaken notion that Harry was safe with Alabasandria. That she cared for him and had his best interests. Never before had he experienced any doubt in this, even when he disagreed heartily with the way Harry was being raised. But the thought of his boy… Sirius could barely contemplate the thought, it was so horrendous.
Harry continued in a petulant voice. "I don't get what the big deal about it is, honestly. You've been there when I tortured those children, you've watched me kill before. I'm sure whatever you and mum get up to with the hunt for the horcruxes is gory. What about this is so reprehensible? Can't you let it go? I know you both are sad, neither of you have any other friends. I don't like seeing you fight!"
"It's complicated, Harry. She's an adult. She should know better. I trusted her with you!"
"What? But mama would never hurt me! She never has, I promise, I can't believe you think that!" Harry felt offended on his mama's behalf, and his face burned hot from anger. Sirius had no right to say something awful like that! "Even when we first met and she refused to hug me and didn't like being my mama, she never hit me or deprived me of food or anything."
Sirius held up his hands in a placating manner. He said calmly, "There are different ways to hurt someone besides physical. Crafting a horcrux at the tender age of - how old were you anyway?"
"Er," Harry faltered. He didn't want to make things worse. "Look, it's not a big deal. It's dangerous to learn necromancy, you know that. All of her other apprentices died! It was a safety precaution. It really doesn't upset me, honest. Can you please just tell mama you aren't mad anymore? You should go to the dance with her. You know she hates dancing. It would be funny." He whined.
"Alright," Sirius muttered. It was obvious that Harry was uncomfortable with their arguing, even though he was acting as though it was a simple spat over when Harry's bedtime should be, not whether his soul should be shattered into bits. Concern for his boy's safety came first and concerned he felt at Harry's avoidance of his question, but he would try to keep their argument private. "We aren't here to talk about me, we're here to talk about you, kiddo. So who are you going to ask to the ball?"
...
"What do you mean you have a date?" Ron demanded.
"I mean that someone has already asked me!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "The Yule Ball is next week! Most of the girls already have dates by now!"
"But - but you were supposed to go with me!" Ron said.
"Oh really! Since when? I don't recall you asking me!"
The other three friends made awkward eye contact and huddled a little closer together to avoid Ron and Hermione's squabble. Harry turned to Luna.
"Are you going with anyone yet?" He asked.
"Oh, Neville asked me. We're going as friends," she said.
"Neville asked you?" Ron interrupted, face red. "Just like that?"
Neville shrugged. "It's not that hard to ask a girl out, sorry guys. I knew she wouldn't be able to go if she didn't have a date, so I asked her ages ago."
Ron looked a bit horrified at the realization that Neville was better at girl stuff than the other two. Harry was more concerned that his Plan A was ruined, and he now had to resort to running around harassing women until he found someone single to go with him out of pity. He would owl Sirius again but he wasn't stupid. He was still traumatized from learning about how babies were made. He'd… figure something out. Merlin help him, this was worse than fighting a dragon.
.....
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