Two days before Harry's birthday, Snape came home from a meeting at the school, eyes filled with fury and magic making the windows rattle. "That foolish, idiotic, reckless, careless—"
"Calm yourself," Remus called, walking over and resting soothing hands on the man's shoulders, tipping his forehead against Snape's for the briefest moment. "What has Albus done now?"
"Not just Albus," the Slytherin snarled. "The whole sodding Ministry." Harry shared a glance with Sirius, alarmed.
"What's going on at the Ministry?" he asked. Snape took a deep breath, straightening up.
"The Department of International Magical Cooperation has decided to revive the Triwizard Tournament."
Both Sirius and Remus swore loudly. Remus' empty teacup exploded. Harry stared at them in blank confusion.
"What's the Triwizard Tournament?"
Seeing that Remus was a little preoccupied as Snape continued ranting about dunderheaded buffoons, Sirius turned to his godson. "It's a competition between three magical schools — Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons — that pits a champion from each school against each other in three tasks designed to test their magic, their courage, and their quick thinking."
"That doesn't sound so bad," Harry mused; it actually sounded quite fun. Sirius' face was grave.
"The tournament was discontinued in 1792 due to the exceedingly high death toll of both champions and spectators," he said flatly. Harry's stomach sank.
"Oh."
"Not only are they reviving the tournament, but of course Hogwarts is hosting," Snape continued. "As if we didn't have enough to deal with! The school is going to be swarming with foreigners, including bloody Karkaroff—"
"Karkaroff?" Sirius barked, head whipping around. "What the hell is he doing there?"
"He's headmaster of Durmstrang now," Snape replied, looking like he'd swallowed a lemon. "They do so enjoy their Dark Arts."
Harry didn't dare ask who Karkaroff was. He didn't think he'd like the answer. "The students aren't supposed to know, but I'll bet anyone with a parent in the ministry is aware by the time school starts back up," Snape said. "They're limiting entry to only those who are of age, but from what little Albus told me about the plans for the tasks, it's going to be chaos regardless."
"Have they hired a new Defence teacher yet?" Remus asked, still with his hands on Snape's shoulders, like he'd forgotten they were there, thumbs absently working at tense muscles. Snape shook his head.
"If they have, I haven't been informed. Let's just hope it's someone good, with all this happening at the school."
"Well, if you can only enter if you're seventeen, I'll just stay out of it, then, won't I?" Harry pointed out diplomatically. "Yeah there'll be a load of new people around the castle, but most of them will be students. I'll just watch this Triwizard thing, keep my head down, and stay out of Dumbledore's way."
"You'll still have to be careful," Remus warned. "With so many people coming and going, it'll be easier for someone to slip in where they're not supposed to be."
"I mean, being entirely honest, it doesn't sound much more dangerous than my previous school years. Teacher possessed by literal Voldemort, giant basilisk roaming the halls looking for blood, mass murderer out to kill me — no offence, Sirius," he added. "All on top of a headmaster who has some secret plan to maybe use me as an actual magical bomb. Just a pretty standard year, to be fair."
The three adults stared at him for a minute.
"Why the hell are we letting him go back to that school?" Sirius muttered.
"Why the hell do I work at that school?" Snape agreed, shaking his head. Harry snorted.
"It'll be alright," he said, nonplussed. School-sanctioned danger made a nice change from the regular danger.
"Remember, students aren't supposed to know until it's officially announced," Snape reminded him, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"I'll just add it to the list of all my other secrets, don't worry," he replied. Snape shot him a dark look.
"Cheeky little brat."
"Sorry, Professor, but your glare stopped working on me about the time Sirius turned you into a hamster the other week," Harry admitted apologetically. "All I can think of is those chubby little cheeks."
Snape growled again, while Sirius sniggered. Harry smirked.
The windows had stopped rattling, at least.
.-.-.-.
The morning of Harry's fourteenth birthday dawned clear and sunny, and Harry was awoken by several owls tapping against his window. The most violent of which was the tiny ball of fluff Sirius had given Ron — who, according to the letter, was named Pig, which, what??
He'd stayed up until midnight, as he always did, wishing himself a happy birthday when the clock turned over. But for the first time ever, he fell asleep quickly after, eager to celebrate his birthday properly. For the first time ever, he had people to celebrate it with.
He had presents from all the usual people — The Weasleys, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid — but to his surprise he also had presents from the twins, Neville, Susan and Hannah, and cards from Daphne, Blaise, Ernie, Anthony, Sullivan, the Patil twins, and even Cassius Warrington. He'd never felt so popular in his life.
There was nothing in the pile from Draco, and Harry tried to ignore the stab of hurt that rose in his chest. Perhaps the owl was just delayed. Draco was still in France, after all.
His bedroom door burst open, and Padfoot bounced onto the bed, sending Harry's presents flying. "Padfoot!" he exclaimed laughingly, shoving gently at the huge dog. "You've made a mess."
"That's what magic's for!" Sirius replied, human once more and sitting on Harry's bed, beaming. "Happy birthday, Harry!" He opened his arms, and Harry wriggled over for a hug.
"Happy birthday, cub," Remus called from the door, watching the scene with fond eyes. "Sirius, let him up, will you? Breakfast is ready. Ceri made pancakes."
At that announcement, Harry abandoned his godfather and practically sprinted to the kitchen, skidding into the table and taking his seat. "Happy birthday, Master Harry!" Ceri chirped. "Ceri be making your favourite!" She placed a plate in front of him, stacked high with pancakes, loaded with homemade whipped cream and fresh berries. "Thanks, Ceri!" he enthused, reaching for his knife and fork.
"Couldn't wait for the rest of us?" Sirius mock-complained, when he entered the kitchen to find Harry with his cheeks bulging full of food.
"It's pancakes, Pads," he implored once he'd swallowed.
For once, Snape was the last one to the table, and he nodded at Harry in greeting. "Happy birthday, Potter."
Harry grinned at him, making sure his mouth wasn't full of pancake. Snape still looked mildly disgusted.
"So what are we doing today?"
"Well, you've got your Potions lesson this morning, and—" Sirius broke off in a laugh at the offended look on Harry's face. "Kidding, kidding. You've got presents in the living room, and then a little surprise at about ten."
If it was the surprise Sirius had been hinting about for weeks, Harry couldn't wait.
Breakfast was a lively affair, and once all the pancakes were gone the four of them moved up to the living room, where there were several wrapped presents on the coffee table. "Go on," Remus urged, nudging Harry forward gently. Harry didn't know where to start. He'd never opened birthday presents in front of people before. At least at Christmas, everyone else had presents, too.
He reached for the first one on the pile, a heavy box wrapped in brown paper; from Remus.
Tearing open the paper carefully, he gasped when it revealed a boxset of four beautiful hardback books. The Earthsea Quartet, the box read in shiny foil letters. "She's a muggle author," Remus explained. "I think you'll really like them. I started them when I was your age — the last one only came out a few years ago."
"Thanks, Remus!" Harry murmured, setting the books aside carefully to reach for his next present. The paper on this one was also plain brown, but the handwriting on top betrayed it to be from Snape. He was surprised it wasn't book-shaped.
The paper parted to reveal a small leather roll-up bag, about the width of his calf all around. When he undid the buckle keeping it secure, it revealed a dozen potion vials kept in neat little pouches, each one labelled with the same spidery handwriting. Pepper-Up Potion, Pain Relieving Potion, Dreamless Sleep, the list went on. "Should you ever need to medicate yourself without the supervision of Madam Pomfrey," Snape drawled. "Though please do try never to need them. You're just starting to not be entirely useless, it'd be a waste if you got yourself killed."
Harry grinned widely, and with a burst of impulsiveness, took two steps across the room to wrap his arms around Snape's waist. "Thanks, Professor."
Snape froze, and eventually lowered a hand to pat Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't push his luck, letting go and retreating back to the table. There were three gifts left, all wrapped in the same sparkly silver paper.
"That one's from me, that one's from me and Moony, and that one doesn't really count because it should've been yours to begin with," Sirius explained, pointing to each in turn. Harry went first for the one from just Sirius, tearing into the paper with some hesitation, just in case it exploded glitter everywhere. He was safe, for now.
Ripping the paper all the way off, his eyes lit up at the sight of the Zonko's box; of course Sirius had got him prank materials. "Figured you could take them to school, keep the old man on his toes," the animagus reasoned, mischief dancing in his eyes. Harry smirked.
The present from both Remus and Sirius combined was large and squishy, and Harry unwrapped it to find a beautifully soft dark grey cloak, with a gold clasp in the shape of a pawprint. "It's got size adjusting charms, for when you grow," Sirius told him as Harry stroked a gentle hand over the wool. "Warming charms and the like. And, well, I thought when the time comes, we could have your family crests embroidered on. Every young wizard needs a good cloak."
Harry swung the cloak over his shoulders, feeling the warmth wrap around him like a hug. He grinned. The only wizarding clothes he had were his school robes. This cloak looked like something Draco might wear. He looked down at himself, imagining how it might look with the Potter and Black crests on the front — and Slytherin and Peverell too, he supposed. "It's brilliant," he declared. Sirius beamed. The final present was a huge, brightly coloured tapestry — it was clearly old, and Indian in origin, depicting some sort of abstract scene of the creation of the world, according to Hindu mythology. Harry had to set it on the floor to unroll it fully, his eyes round as he studied the intricate weaving. "This was brought over with the first ever Potters to emigrate to Britain, made by their ancestors," Sirius explained, his voice thick with emotion. "It's hung in the home of every first-born Potter since. We can hang it up here somewhere; then, when you're old enough to have your own place, you can take it with you. James used to know all about it, and I only remember bits and pieces, but I'm pretty sure there's a book about it in the vault."
Harry was embarrassed to find himself tearing up a little bit — he had never had anything like that. Growing up with the Dursleys, they were determined to act as if Harry's skin was just particularly tan, and once he got to the wizarding world people all just told him about the great magic in his blood. No one ever acknowledged the history of the Potter family, or told him anything about his heritage. "When we can, I'll take you down to the Potter vault, and we can go through everything, teach you about the family. I learnt a fair bit living with James for so long — I don't know everything, but I reckon I know enough to get you started," Sirius said hesitantly. "I'm not James. I'm not trying to replace him. But… he would've wanted you to learn about where you come from. He would've taught you all that, if he could. I figured I can do my best to—"
He was cut off by Harry barrelling into his chest in a rib-crushing hug, and Sirius quickly returned it, kissing Harry's messy hair. "You've been denied so much, pup. You deserve better."
Harry kept his face buried in Sirius' chest until he could be sure he was no longer going to cry, and then he pulled away, still with a bit of a lump in his throat. "Right," he murmured. "I'm just gonna… take this all upstairs."
"Don't forget your surprise at ten," Remus reminded. "You'll want to be dressed for that."
Harry had almost forgotten about that. He carefully rolled up the tapestry and gathered his presents, heading to his room and letting out a deep breath, still shaking a little. In that moment he hated Voldemort, and Dumbledore, for tearing him away from everything he should've had growing up. Love. A family. A heritage. Voldemort might have set it in motion by killing his parents, but Dumbledore was the one who kept him isolated from that point onwards. Dumbledore was the one who tried to deny him his family magics. He turned to his wardrobe, shaking the dark thoughts from his head. It was his birthday, there was no need to get morose.
.-.-.
As ten o'clock drew closer, Sirius turned into Padfoot to stop himself spoiling the surprise, and Harry retaliated by sending various mostly-harmless jinxes at the dog, who jumped all over the entrance hall to avoid them, barking happily. "Just tell me!" the teen pleaded. Padfoot growled playfully, shaking his head.
The clock struck ten.
Sirius was back on two feet in an instant, and grabbed Harry around the shoulders. "Come on!" He led him towards the front doors, practically skipping. Was his surprise a place? Were they going somewhere? Stepping out into the driveway, Harry gaped.
Walking towards the house were two figures, one taller than the other, both with the sun shining off their white-blonde hair. "Draco!" Harry's eyes were wide in astonishment, and he whipped around to look at his godfather. "But he's— how did you— I don't understand!"
"Remus mentioned the two of you had become close," Sirius said, still grinning smugly. "I thought it'd be nice for you to have company your own age for the day."
Draco and his mother made it up to the house, and Narcissa Malfoy leaned in to press a brief kiss to Sirius' cheek. "You're looking well, cousin," she greeted. "Freedom clearly agrees with you."
"It definitely does. You should try it sometime," Sirius replied wryly.
"Cousin?" Harry echoed. Sirius rested a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Narcissa Black-Malfoy," Sirius introduced. "Daughter of my father's sister. Cissa, dear, I don't believe you've been formally introduced; Harry Potter, my heir."
Narcissa offered a hand, and Harry knew he was supposed to kiss the back of it. "Well met, Heir Black."
"Well met, Lady Malfoy," Harry replied. He glanced between the two adults. "Wait, if you two are cousins, and I'm your heir, does that make Draco my cousin too?" For some reason, that made him feel weird.
Sirius and Narcissa shared an amused glance. "Not to worry, pup," Sirius assured, chuckling. "You're my heir in name, not blood."
"Sirius, allow me to introduce my son, Draco," Narcissa said primly, nudging Draco forward. He bowed.
"Well met, Lord Black."
"Well met, Heir Malfoy," Sirius returned. "Salazar, Cissa, he's certainly got the Black cheekbones. Not much of Lucius in him, is there?"
"Less and less every day, I believe," she said, running an affectionate hand over her son's hair. Draco preened.
With the formal greetings out of the way, Harry was finally facing Draco, who smirked at him. "Unanticipated company, Potter?" he remarked, reminding Harry of the first letter he'd sent at the beginning of summer. "Bit of an understatement." He didn't seem fazed by the enormous manor and its grounds; he probably lived in something twice the size of it. "No wonder you've been able to practice your Wronski Feint. Which I still don't believe you can pull off, by the way," he added.
"I'll prove it to you," Harry challenged. He glanced up at Sirius, who smiled fondly.
"Yes, you two can go flying. Narcissa and I can catch up in the parlour. Maybe even lure Snape up from his lab for a spot of tea."
"Uncle Severus is here?" Draco asked, surprised.
"I'm sure he'd be delighted to see you, sweetheart, but you go ahead and play with Harry — it's his birthday, after all. We'll call you in for lunch," Narcissa said. She reached into her handbag, and Harry beamed when she pulled Draco's broom out, the bag much bigger on the inside than it appeared. "Have fun, boys. Do be safe. And happy birthday, Mr Potter."
"Thanks, Mrs Malfoy!" Harry grabbed Draco by the wrist, tugging him in the direction of the quidditch pitch at the back of the manor. When they were alone, he rounded on his friend. "You're supposed to be in France!"
"You're supposed to be in Surrey," Draco returned in the same tone. "Explain, Potter." He mounted his broom, kicking off in a lazy spiral, and Harry summoned his Firebolt from the broom shed to join him. The two drifted in easy laps around the half-pitch as Harry told Draco all about Snape rescuing him from the Dursleys at the beginning of summer, and everything that had happened since.
"Mother was surprised when she got the letter from Uncle Severus, asking if we could get away for the day on the 31st," Draco said once it was his turn to explain things. "I suppose your godfather included a letter too, explaining his circumstances. She took it fairly well, all things considered."
"I didn't realise she knew we were even friends," Harry commented. Draco shrugged, doing an effortless barrel roll.
"I tell my mother everything," he said evenly. "She won't tell Father." He smirked, swooping over to Harry's side. "Now, enough about our guardians — surely you've got a snitch around here somewhere?" His eyes flashed in challenge, and Harry returned the look.
"You're on, Malfoy."
.-.-.
Harry hadn't realised how much he missed having company his own age until he had Draco around. Or maybe it was just Draco in particular. Being able to spend time with the blond boy without having to hide in abandoned classrooms in the middle of the night; flying against him for the snitch in companionship rather than rivalry — Harry couldn't stop smiling, even when Draco asked him why he was grinning like a loon.
They flew until lunchtime, first trying to beat each other to the snitch and then getting the quaffle out, passing back and forth as they talked about their summers. Harry told Draco about the concert he'd gone to the week before, while Draco bragged about all the interesting places he'd been in Europe. "I brought my cards with me," the Slytherin said, tossing the quaffle in Harry's direction. The dark-haired boy had to stretch to catch it, letting the movement carry him into a sloth roll. "I can teach you that French game. It's ever so simple. Mirielle said it's quite popular at Beauxbatons."
"Mirielle? She's one of the girls you saw in France?" Harry asked, wondering why the name seemed to stick funny in his throat. Draco nodded.
"She and her cousin, Adalene. Their home isn't far from our summer house, we spent most of the week together."
"Oh." Harry's next throw was so hard it almost knocked Draco off his broom. The blond shot him a glare.
"So, been having fun with Granger and Weasley all summer?" he returned. "Since you're not with the muggles and all."
"They don't actually know I'm here," Harry admitted. "We didn't think it was safe. I've barely even heard from them — Hermione's written more than Ron, but… anyway, you're the first visitor I've had all summer."
"Oh."
Draco was saved having to think up another response by Sirius calling for them from the back patio. "Lunch is ready, boys!"
They landed swiftly, carrying their brooms with them and hurrying towards the house. Halfway there, Draco skidded to a halt, eyes wide. "Is that— the hippogriff! Buckbeak!"
Harry looked over towards the tree line, where Buckbeak was trotting out of the woods, tossing his head back and swallowing a dead rabbit. "Oh, yeah, did I not tell you that bit? Sirius escaped on his back. He lives here now."
Draco looked at him incredulously, then back to the hippogriff. "You're definitely telling me the full story after lunch," he declared, then grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him towards the house. Harry flushed; for a second there, he'd thought Draco was going to take him by the hand.
Ceri had made an excellent spread, and in the middle of the table was an enormous chocolate cake with the words 'Happy Birthday Harry' in swirling silver icing, delicately iced snitches all around the edges. A pang of fondness rose in Harry's chest as he remembered the cake Hagrid had brought him, three years ago. His first birthday cake.
"Uncle Severus!" Draco greeted, then glanced at the man beside him. "Professor Lupin." Remus smiled. "Hello, Mr Malfoy. I'm glad you could make it."
"Draco." Snape reached out to touch his godson's shoulder briefly. "It's good to see you well."
As they sat down to eat, Harry looked around the table, getting a strong urge to laugh. If someone had told him a year ago he'd be spending his birthday with Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape, and actually be happy about that, he would've sent them to St Mungo's.
But he was. Happy, that was. It was the best birthday ever, and it was barely even halfway over.
"My son tells me you're getting better acquainted with the other heirs at Hogwarts, Mr Potter," Narcissa said, reaching for a plate of sandwiches. "It's good to hear the Black family name will be properly represented in the Wizengamot once more."
"I'm still new to it all, but I'm learning," Harry replied. "Draco's helping a lot. He knows far more about it than I do."
"If I can be of assistance, don't hesitate to ask. We are family, of a sort, after all," Narcissa pointed out. "There was a time when we thought that Draco might be the Black heir. I didn't realise Sirius had taken precautions. Lucius was… quite disappointed." Her face hardened for a moment, and Sirius growled quietly under his breath.
"You understand why I had to, Cissa," he said. "I knew you'd raise the boy well, but I couldn't be sure how much influence Malfoy would have over him. The Black family name has been through enough without adding that to it."
"Oh, I completely agree."
Draco nudged Harry under the table. "Do you know what's happening at Hogwarts this year?" he asked conspiratorially. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Do you know what's happening?" he returned quietly. How could Draco know?
"Father told me everything," Draco bragged.
"I'm sure he also told you to keep quiet about it," Snape cut in with a pointed look. Draco's pale cheeks flushed.
"Yeah, but you told me," Harry pointed out. Snape's glare turned on him, but he just grinned.
"For your own safety."
"And we all appreciate the forewarning," Remus said, resting his hand on Severus' forearm for the briefest moment.
"It's a shame underage wizards can't enter," Draco drawled. "I'm sure I'd win if I could."
"Yes, I'm sure you know far more spells than the seventh years," Harry agreed sarcastically, earning a glare. "You'll have to sit back and let someone else have the glory, I know it'll be very difficult for you."
Draco gave a haughty sniff, turning to his pumpkin juice. "With any luck, the Hogwarts champion will be a Slytherin. Or a Ravenclaw." He sent a glance to Harry. "As long as it's not a Gryffindor."
"I bet a Gryffindor champion could win," Harry argued. He didn't know the Gryffindor seventh years very well, but they all seemed competent enough.
"I'm sure if Dumbledore has his way, it'll be a lion," Draco muttered with a grimace. "More glory to the house of red and gold." All three Slytherins in the room rolled their eyes in unison. Harry couldn't even debate the point; he didn't doubt Dumbledore would put a Gryffindor in the spotlight if he could.
"Well, we'll find out soon enough," Sirius declared. "Now, who's for cake? Go on, birthday boy."
Harry was glad there was no singing and candle-blowing; at Dudley's birthday parties it always looked excruciatingly awful. Instead Harry was handed an enormous knife, and carefully cut a slice for each person at the table. The cake was moist and fluffy, with a thick layer of cream and ganache in the middle. It was heaven.
"Oh, that reminds me," Draco said suddenly. He reached down into his mother's handbag, pulling out a gift wrapped in Slytherin green paper. "Happy birthday."
Harry blinked, surprised. He'd thought Draco's visit was the present. He said as much, and the blond gave him an exasperated look. "Of course I got you something, you daft lion. Go on, open it."
Harry tore into the paper, a beaming smile crossing his face at what lay inside. A brand new pair of quidditch goggles, brown leather with gold edging and buckles. According to the accompanying scroll of parchment, they were charmed unbreakable, anti-glare, waterproof and fog-proof, as well as prescription-adjusting; he wouldn't need to wear his glasses underneath them. "You mentioned your current pair pinch your new glasses by your ears," Draco muttered, his pale cheeks turning rosy. "I don't want you to have any excuses when I kick your arse next year."
Harry laughed, Draco ducking his head when his mother scolded him for his language.
"You've got high hopes," the Gryffindor teased. His pulse was racing, his stomach squirming far more than it should over a birthday present. He couldn't even remember making that complaint; for Draco to not only have been listening, but remembered enough to think about it when picking out Harry's present… it made his face heat, though he wasn't sure why. "They're brilliant, Draco. Thank you so much!"
The two boys sat, grinning and blushing at each other — completely unaware of the looks the adults were exchanging over their heads.
"Have you shown Draco your room yet, Harry?" Remus asked, and Harry shook his head.
"Not yet. We've been too busy flying." He glanced over at his blond friend. "I can show you after lunch, if you'd like?" He'd never had a bedroom he was proud to show a friend before. "Oh, I should show you the library, too. It's huge!"
"You're getting worse than Granger," Draco muttered, barely any malice in his tone. Harry stuck his tongue out. "And here I thought you were starting to be civilised."
"You can only get so far with Gryffindors, Draco," Snape told him. Remus snorted.
"May we be excused?" Harry asked, once he and Draco had both finished their cake. Draco could only stay until five, and Harry wanted to make the most of his time. They probably wouldn't see each other again until school started, and then they'd have to pretend to be enemies again.
"Go ahead, pup." Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, and the two boys left the kitchen, Harry leading the way, carrying his present from Draco securely.
"Come on, it's up here." He turned off the stairs towards his room, slowing down so Draco could look around curiously.
"There's no portraits," he remarked. Harry shrugged.
"Sirius said it's better that way. No chance of being spied on. I guess the Black family liked their secrecy."
"Malfoy Manor has dozens of portraits. I can't get away with anything," Draco groused. "There's a couple that like me, but most of them just go straight to Father if I'm doing something I shouldn't be."
"Why doesn't your mother just… leave? Get a divorce, or something?" Harry asked. Meeting Narcissa, hearing the way she spoke of her husband, it was clear she didn't want to be married to him.
"It's not that simple in the wizarding world. Divorce needs a good reason, and it needs to be approved by the head of the slighted party's house. Unfortunately, the Black family doesn't have one of those at the minute, legally. Besides, we've got nowhere to go. You don't just say no to a man like Lucius Malfoy." The twist of Draco's lips was bitter, and Harry squeezed his arm sympathetically.
"We'll find Pettigrew, and get Sirius' name cleared. Then he can approve the divorce. I bet he'd even let you move in here, if you needed somewhere safe to live." Harry couldn't see Sirius letting Narcissa stay with such an awful husband if he could help it. He was always telling Harry how important family was to the Blacks.
Draco sighed. "It's a nice thought, but we couldn't hide forever. Father always gets his way." He swept some blond hair out of his eyes. "I thought you were showing me your bedroom, anyway? Hurry up!"
Harry blushed, his brain flashing to some other context Draco might want to see his bedroom. He told his brain to sod off and stop being ridiculous. As if he and Draco would be— like that!
Still, as he nudged open the door, the thought stayed lodged in the corner of his mind. It wouldn't be so bad, maybe. If they were.
.-.-.-.
Sirius looked across the living room at the two teenage boys sprawled in front of the fire, playing some sort of card game the Malfoy boy had apparently learned in France. His mind still boggled at the sight of a Potter and a Malfoy being so friendly. The blond wasn't that bad, considering his upbringing. Narcissa had done alright with him there.
And Narcissa, well — Sirius hadn't expected it to be so easy to see his cousin again. In the years before the fall of Voldemort, he'd thought her truly lost to her awful husband. She'd been haughty and cruel and gotten sucked in to all the talk of blood purity and war against muggles. He wasn't sure what had changed, but he was glad. She was more and more like the little girl he'd grown up alongside, who would do anything for her family and just wanted those she loved to be safe and happy. She still clearly had a lot of firm opinions about blood status, but they were much more similar to Sirius' opinions; muggleborns were quite welcome, as long as the wizarding traditions weren't lost in amongst their muggle customs. "They really don't have any idea?" Narcissa asked quietly, her eyes cast over at her son and Sirius' godson. Remus smirked.
"Not a clue. Not that Harry's told me, at least. Astonishing, isn't it?"
"It's disgusting," Snape drawled. Sirius laughed quietly.
"I think it's sweet." He watched as Harry stole a card from Draco's hand, making some sort of remark that had Draco's cheeks turning pink. "They're so innocent."
"Hopefully we can keep them that way for a while longer," Remus sighed. "Merlin, they're worse than Severus and I ever were. At least we knew we were flirting."
Across the room, Harry laughed, rolling away as Draco tried to snatch one of his cards. Sirius sighed to himself; did Harry have to choose a Malfoy?
That was unfair, he supposed. Draco was a nice enough kid, for a Slytherin. He'd heard something from Harry over the weeks about the role the boy had to play in public, and it sounded like it would wear on anyone.
"I'm betting they'll figure it out by Christmas," Sirius declared under his breath. "Harry's a bit thick sometimes, but he's not that dense. He'll have a quick little sexuality crisis, then they'll be sorted."
"I'm surprised Draco's so oblivious," Narcissa commented. "He's always known he likes boys. Truthfully, I've been wondering if something like this might happen ever since I got a letter his first week of Hogwarts with three whole paragraphs about Harry Bloody Potter and how frustrating he was." She smiled fondly. "I certainly never expected it to go like this."
"Harry is full of surprises," Remus remarked. That was an understatement if Sirius had ever heard one. "I think we've only hit the tip of the iceberg, there." He thought about everything that had come to light ever since he'd met Harry. It was just the beginning.
He caught Snape and Narcissa sharing a loaded glance, and Remus frown and place a hand on Snape's left arm. Sirius's brows furrowed. "What?" he asked, wondering what he was missing.
Snape looked to Narcissa. "Is it getting darker for you, too?"
The blonde woman nodded. Snape cursed softly.
"What?" Sirius hissed again. Then it dawned on him, his gaze dropping to Remus' hand curled around Snape's forearm. He hadn't seen Snape in short sleeves since that day in the pool. "Oh. He's getting stronger, isn't he?" Peter must have found his master, as Trelawney had predicted. Sirius' stomach rolled.
"It's just a matter of time," Narcissa confirmed. "Lucius has been meeting with several old friends this summer. I believe there are plans being hatched."
Squeezing his eyes shut for a minute, Sirius shook his head, looking back over at the two teenagers. So carefree, so happy. He wanted Harry to stay that way forever.
"I've been invited to several of those meetings," Snape revealed. "I managed to find excuses for all but one. He's definitely reconnecting with the old crowd. I'm keeping my ear to the ground, but it's all just murmurs so far. Everyone is hesitant to trust what they know to be true, just in case."
The Triwizard Tournament likely wasn't the only thing they'd have to worry about this school year. Sirius cursed Peter Pettigrew for the thousandth time — because of him, he wouldn't be able to protect Harry like he ought to. He just had to send him off into Dumbledore's clutches and hope against hope nothing happened that he couldn't fix.
He looked to his cousin, who had fear etched in her pretty features. "Cissa, if you ever need somewhere to go," he started cautiously, unsure how she might take his offer. "The House of Black will always welcome you with open arms." He couldn't do anything about Lucius legally, but he could offer her a safehouse until the war ended if it ever got bad.
"I had hoped to play my part well enough to keep Draco out of the worst of things," Narcissa said, pursing her lips as she cast her gaze over to her son. "I'm starting to think that might not be possible anymore. I hadn't accounted for this."
Sirius snorted under his breath; none of them had accounted for the way those two boys looked at each other with stars in their eyes.
"It's too early to tell, yet," Narcissa continued. "But I'll make sure there are arrangements in place for any future… inevitabilities. And I'll keep your offer in mind. Thank you, cousin."
"Whatever comes to pass, I think it's clear we're all in it together, now," Sirius replied.
Between those two teenagers sat oblivious in front of the fire, all four of the adults in the room would give their lives in a heartbeat for one or the other. And, while Sirius knew it was too soon to tell — teenage crushes came and went like clothing trends — if Harry was anything like his parents, he had a sneaking suspicion he and Narcissa were going to end up even closer family than they were now. Eventually.
If Harry could ever get his head out of his arse and realise what was in front of him.
Ah, young love.
.-.-.-.
When Pig arrived with a letter from Ron in the second week in August, reality came crashing back down on Harry uncomfortably quickly. He stared at it for a long moment, a tightness in his chest that it took him a minute to realise was anxiety.
Why did he feel so anxious about seeing his best friends again?
Since Draco had visited on his birthday, it had gone back to just being himself and the three adults. He'd mentioned briefly to Sirius that he had other friends who were somewhat in the know, like Neville, who could maybe visit, but Sirius had gently put his foot down.
"I told you when you got here this house has always been for family, not visitors," he had said with an apologetic half-smile. "I understand wanting to have your friends over, but the fewer people who know about this place, the better. Narcissa and Draco are family, as astonished as I am to be saying that and actually meaning it. They're Blacks, they deserve to be here. But no one else, pup. Not here."
Harry understood, and truthfully he liked it better that way. Seren Du was a little bubble of paradise — the rest of the world didn't exist unless they sought it out. All of them seemed to be benefiting from the break; even Snape, though he'd been acting a little weird lately, was like a completely different man. Harry didn't know if the professor was always like that in private, or if it was Remus' influence, but he was pretty sure the house had something to do with it.
All the same, he should've been excited to go to the Burrow. And to the Quidditch World Cup! And yet… if Ron hadn't made it clear in his letter that he wasn't taking no for an answer, Harry might have turned him down.
He kept the letter in hand as he shuffled down to breakfast, where all three adults were already up. "Morning, cub," Remus greeted, then frowned. "Why the long face?"
Harry held up the letter. "Ron's dad got tickets to the Quidditch Cup. They're going to come pick me up from the Dursleys on Sunday evening."
"That's brilliant! International quidditch, I'm so jealous!" Sirius' enthusiasm was dampened by a confused expression. "Why do you look like you need a Cheering charm?"
"No, it's great!" Harry insisted. "I just… I like it here. I thought I'd have all summer with you." Ron had talked about the Cup, but Harry hadn't truly expected Mr Weasley to actually be able to get enough tickets for all of them.
"Pup, go to Ron's house. Have fun with your friends. Go see the Cup," Sirius urged softly. "I love having you, but you can't stay cooped up in here forever. You deserve to spend time with your friends, not us three old farts."
"Oi, speak for yourself there, Grandpa," Remus said in mock-annoyance.
"Only one of us is going grey, Moony dearest, and it sure as hell isn't me," Sirius replied sweetly. "Anyway, pup. What I'm saying is, this place is your home now, it will be as long as you want it. But you're young, you should be out having fun with kids your own age. Besides," he added, screwing his nose up. "How will it look to the rest of them if you suddenly decide you love being at your relatives' place so much you don't want to leave them to go see quidditch? They'll think you've been possessed."
Harry grimaced. That would certainly give the game away. "I suppose." He glanced down at the letter. If the Weasleys were coming on Sunday, that only gave him two more days at Seren Du.
"We'll figure out a way to keep in touch while you're in school. It'll be fine." Sirius reached over to squeeze Harry's shoulder. "Chin up, kiddo. We knew this was coming sooner or later."
"Yeah, but I thought it'd be later," Harry muttered, frowning into his porridge.
"It'll be good for you to see your friends again, Harry," Remus said, offering him a smile. "We'll have to take you back to the Dursleys' Sunday lunchtime, let you get picked up from there. It's a good thing we already got your school supplies." Instead of going to Diagon Alley, Harry and Remus had gone to Margin Alley in Cardiff, where it was quieter. Sirius wanted to come, but apparently there were anti-animagus wards in the area.
"I'm sure my relatives will be thrilled to see me again," he replied dryly. At least he wouldn't have to spend long with them.