Sweetttt

Atyd

“So… what?” Remus gaped, “We just leave things as they are?”

Sirius scratched behind his ear, looking down, a strange, shy gesture.

“I’d rather not.”

“You’d rather not.” Remus repeated, dumbfounded.

“No. I mean, if you want me to go ‘round telling everyone I know then sorry, but we’re not all as ballsy as you. I need more time. But… I could try.”

“You could try.” This was not the outcome Remus had expected when the conversation began. “What do you m--”

Sirius cut him off, placing a palm on Remus’s cheek to turn it towards him, and kissing him gently on the lips.

“I mean I will try.” He said, as he pulled away. “I miss you, Moony.”

Oh, you would go and say something like that… Remus grabbed him and pulled him back. It was like water after a drought, shelter in a storm - they were the still point of the turning world and every other stupid sloppy cliché you could think of. They kissed for a long time, and when they came apart they were practically gasping with relief.

“No more girls?” Remus asked, still holding Sirius in place, as if he might run away.

“No more girls.” Sirius agreed. “Let’s see how this pans out first.”

“Oh, charming.” Remus let go, satisfied.

“Shuddup,” Sirius nudged him with his shoulder, hands deep inside his pockets. “C’mon, let’s go back to the tent eh? Freezing.”

Credit to Atyd by misskingbean89

I am not really a slash person but even i have to admit this is cute

gave me this fuzzy feeling

Shy!reader who's brain is running a million miles per hour and Sirius who notices and decides to pull her into a secret room for doting kisses and sweet compliments???

thank you for your request lovely! <333

sirius black x fem!reader

You don’t know how Sirius has managed to weasel you out of the thick of the party and into his friend’s bathroom, but here you are, alone with Sirius in Remus Lupin’s bathroom and trying not to act like this is exactly what you wanted.

“Sirius,” you say, breathless as you watch him close the door and then spin round to face you, grinning. “What are you doing?”

Sirius shrugs. “Just trying to get some alone time with my girl. Sue me.”

My girl. You try not to buckle at the knees. “Alone time? I thought you liked parties.”

“I only like whatever you like.”

You glare at him. He’s being awful on purpose. “Don’t you want to go hang out with your friends?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Sirius says, moving towards you. You know he’s gonna grab you before he does, hands hot at your hips as he pulls you towards him. “I was watching you out there, you know. You looked like you weren’t having a good time.”

“Did I?” You ask, horrified. “Sirius, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You push at his chest as if that’s gonna do anything. He’s much stronger than you. In more ways than one. “I don’t want Remus to think I’m a priss.”

Sirius laughs. “Dove,” he says, chiding and amused. “He doesn’t think that. The only reason I noticed is ‘cos I know you so well.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb as if to say, yeah, I know you, and I love you all the same. “You’d’ve looked completely lovely to everyone else.”

“Ugh,” you say, as if you’re grossed out by his fondness rather than totally enthralled. Your burning cheeks say otherwise.

“Ugh,” Sirius copies agreeably. “You’re okay, though? We can leave if you need, babe. I swear I don’t mind.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. “No, I’m okay. We can stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you having an awful time.”

“I’m not,” you say honestly. You were overwhelmed earlier but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t have handled it for Sirius’ sake. He’s handled a lot worse for your sake.

Sirius raises his eyebrows, looking incredibly handsome. “Promise?”

You smile at him. “Promise.”

Sirius smiles back, all pearly white teeth and the dusty pink lips. You’re not surprised when he ducks in to kiss you. You let him because you like him a lot and you could really use a kiss right now. He’s right of course, you had been having a hard time out in the living room. You’d just been beginning to spiral when Sirius had appeared out of nowhere and whisked you away like he could read your mind. Now, he kisses you with all the care of someone who knows you like the back of his hand, and all the electricity of a boy in love.

He backs you up against the sink, hands firm at your hips, kissing and kissing, but pulls back just when you think he’s about to really get carried away. You’re grateful because you’d hate to be discovered like this by one of his friends and you think he knows that.

“I love you,” he says, ducking in for another quick kiss that’s brief but sweet enough to leave you reeling. “Promise you’ll let me know if you want to get out of here, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod, frazzled by his kissing and his sweetness.

Sirius smiles a dizzying smile and chucks you under the chin. “C’mon, lovely girl,” he takes your hand and tugs you towards the door. “Wanna help me win poker?”

He knows you’re no good at card games — he just wants you in his lap as his so-called lucky charm. Lucky for him, you can’t think of anything else you’d rather do.

Lily's temper once they find and reseat her

Poor Lily

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Remus: Shit.

Sirius: Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

James: OH MY GOD LILY FELL OFF!!!

@impishtubist

We neeeed u to write this

About Sirius always having Harry’s back.

Sirius: “MY godson would NEVER punch your… kid….”

Harry: *aggressively shaking his head*

Sirius: “Unless YOUR kid deserved it. Because to me it looks like he did”

Carla when I tell you I almost sent this EXACT scenario to @impishtubist two hours ago 😂😂😂 CACKLING

I am sorry for suddenly making you cry I cried about it too so should too... Sirius wanted to be the coolest godfather and just when harry was nearly old enough to get a tattoo sirius *sobs* dieeddddd!!!!!😭😭😭😭

officially submitting my first ever entry for @impishtubist ‘s Sirius & Harry Saturday: a headcanon about baby harry using his crayons to try and draw sirius’ tattoos on himself. (there’s also protective james and prongsfoot friendship and it’s all quite fluffy)

“Harry! What are you doing?” Sirius leaned forward with a laugh, trying to get a better glimpse of his toddling godson, who’d stripped down until he was clad only in his diaper.

“Lookit Siri, I’m you!” Harry squealed, finally losing the battle against gravity in his excitement and falling forward. Lucky for him, his godfather knew him enough to be prepared with outstretched arms.

Sirius dangled him mid-air in front of him, hands under his armpits. It was the best vantage point to scrutinise the new additions to his godson’s previously unmarked skin.

Because, somehow, Harry had gotten his hands on a permanent marker and had drawn all over himself. And not just anything, but very specific artwork that Sirius could recognise instantly, shaky as it was.

“You know your dad’s gonna kill me, buddy,” Sirius mused absently as he shifted Harry’s weight to one hand and ran one black-tipped nail against the runic figures on his pudgy chest and belly. Well, figures that were attempting to be runic, if he wanted to be accurate. Harry’s hand wasn’t steady enough for straight lines, yet, nor was his theoretical knowledge good enough to capture them perfectly even if they were.

“No, I you, Siri!” Harry repeated stubbornly, and by Merlin, what was the allure of Dark Magic in the face of his adorable godson?

He trailed his finger across the jagged lines on his flank, across his arms, up to his shoulders. There were some unrecognisable scribbles on his upper back, like he’d tried to reach back and color in but couldn’t. Of course, he couldn’t, Harry’s arms were tiny. But it was clear that he was trying to replicate the antlers on Sirius’ back. Unbidden, his gaze fell to Harry’s wrist and sure enough, there was a messy circle with shapes drawn inside it. It was a valiant effort to recreate his family’s crest. Sirius could feel his heart-melting out of his pores.

“Oh, Harry, you little troublemaker, you,” he cooed, bringing his godson into the circle of his arms to tuck him against his chest, biting his lip at how Harry instantly relaxed into him, head tucked under Sirius’ chin.

“You like my tattoos, huh? Couldn’t wait until you grew up a bit, had to have them right now, is that it?” He continued, slightly bouncing Harry in his arms as he walked back and forth.

“Siri pwetty, Hawwy also pwetty,” Harry babbled from his perch and Sirius’ heart melted.

“Dammit, sweetheart, I have a reputation to maintain. You can’t go around saying things like that,” he mock-scolded.

“Things like what, Padfoot?” James’ voice entered the conversation and Sirius had to suppress his laughter at what he’d say when he discovered the state his son was in.

“Oh, nothing much, Harry just wants to be pretty like me,” Sirius said, special emphasis on the ‘me’. “Guess being a carbon copy of his dad isn’t quite cutting it for him anymore.”

He turned to face James as he spoke and couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling in him at the expression on his face. Sirius’ words were already pulling a very strong deadpan from him but one look at his son, covered in black squiggles and smudges, and it immediately gave way to one of pronounced horror.

“Wha—“ James’ words were more of a strangled wheeze. “Padfoot, what did you do to my son?”

“Excuse you,” Sirius said, offended. “I didn’t do anything. This one’s all Harry. I didn’t even know what he was doing until he crawled into the room.”

That didn’t seem to help. “Oh, baby, I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with Sirius, he’s become rather forgetful in his advanced age, hasn’t he?” With an exaggerated frown on his face, James plucked Harry out of Sirius’ arms and settled him in his own. The kid was, as always, overjoyed to be reunited with his father.

Sirius tried hard to hold onto his outrage—how dare James call him old?—but it was hard, nigh impossible, when he could see Harry rubbing the top of his head back and forth against James’ jaw, like an adorable little kitten.

“So, what’s with-“ James ran a hand down Harry’s arm “-all this?”

“Harry’s trying to be like his extremely cool, not-old-at-all godfather.”

James raised a skeptical eyebrow. Sirius ignored him in favour of talking to his godson.

“Don’t you worry, love, when you’re old enough, I’ll be right there to take you for your first proper tattoo,” he tapped Harry’s little button nose, making him giggle.

It wasn’t enough to mask James’ shocked exhale. “What do you mean first proper tattoo?”

“Look at him and tell me he’s not interested,” Sirius pointed at the little bundle of joy in his arms. Absently, he wondered what kind of tattoo Harry would like, if any. Would he be the sentimental kind, like his dad who never put something on his body he hadn’t considered fifty times over? Or more like Sirius, who’d only needed the thought to pop it into his head to get it inked.

“He’s three and thinks colors, and shapes, on your body look cool. That’s- that doesn’t mean anything!”

“Well, I’m just saying,” Sirius shrugged, deliberately keeping his face clear of anything that could give him away. Of course he knew the reaction his words would elicit, that was part of why he said it. “The option’s there on the table if he ever wants to. With parents like you and Lily, and me of course, the kid’s on the right track for a few pieces of his own.”

“But—“

“And of course, no one except his godfather can be trusted with something like this, right? It’s basically my magic-given duty to escort him to the tattoo parlour,” Sirius finished with a flourish. One of his hands had travelled upwards to ruffle Harry’s hair, marvelling at the soft feel of the inky strands slipping between his fingers.

“No- That’s not- you are not torturing my baby like that!” James finally found his voice, and what a loud one it was too for Harry was startled out of his lazy doze against his dad’s chest by the deep rumble that vibrated through him. His green eyes were wide open, looking at his dad who so rarely raised his voice, and James immediately shrunk—literally, Sirius could see the transformation in real-time, the way his shoulders dropped, his face relaxed, and his nose came down from its high perch.

“Oh, Daddy’s sorry, honey, he didn’t mean to shout,” he whispered in between careful kisses pressed to Harry’s face. “Daddy’s gonna be more careful, okay?”

“Otay,” Harry replied, equally quietly, still staring at him with remnants of shock in his eyes.

Sirius broke the moment with a loud snort—accidental of course but this was too much for him—and immediately attracted James’ ire again.

“You—“ he started accusingly before darting a quick look downward to see Harry was alright. He was. “You can’t be—Harry’s not gonna get tatted, Padfoot! It hurts too much. I won’t have it.”

“You won’t have it?” Sirius repeated, amused. “May I remind you when you got your first tattoo? Or mine, for that matter.” That took the wind right out of his sails.

“Er, that’s not the point here,” James replied shiftily, dropping his gaze to Harry instead of looking at him.

“Remember the runic tattoos we etched into our skin? Could’ve literally blown ourselves inside out right there in the do—“

James slapped a hand against his mouth, effectively stopping him. “Okay, I think that’s enough, I get it.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘Do you?’. Harry giggled at his father and godfather’s antics, happily oblivious to the pinched look on the former’s face as he realised the precedent his own actions had set. Sirius couldn’t wait to have this conversation all over again when he was all grown up and could add his own input. He was looking forward to tag-teaming against James, to be honest.

“You—you don’t think he’ll do something like that, do you?” James asked hesitantly, glancing between the two of them.

“He is your kid,” Sirius pointed out. “And Lily’s. And a tad bit mine.”

“He’s all yours, especially when he pulls stunts like this.”

Sirius grinned, wide and uncontrollable, at that, unable to help the warmth that spread through his entire body at those words. He knows James was trying to take a shot at him but it didn’t take away from the fact that Harry was his too, has been from the day he was born—no, since the day James flooed into his house, pale and shaking, telling him that ‘We’re having a kid, Padfoot! An actual baby! Can you believe it?!’

For all the jokes and potshots and snippy back-and-forths they had, Sirius knew he would never be able to thank Jamie for allowing him into his life—into Harry’s life—like this. James had always been free with his affections, sharing heart and home without a second thought but Sirius knew that there were many who’d have put their foot down at the level of involvement he assumed in his godson’s life, and that James and Lily didn’t, wouldn’t, do that. He didn’t know where he’d be without the Potters today, and imagining such a world—it was chilling, to say the very least.

“Pads?” James’ soft voice interrupted his morose thoughts and he snapped his eyes up to meet concerned hazel ones. There was a silent question in them.

Sirius shrugged wryly. Silently raised his hands for Harry, needing to hold him close, and after another searching glance, James passed the now peacefully sleeping child over. Something loosened in his chest when he felt the familiar weight resting against him. He immediately buried his nose in Harry’s hair, taking a deep breath, letting the scent of baby powder and blueberry shampoo fill his lungs, ground him.

“I’ll be the coolest godfather there ever was,” he whispered, feeling a knot in his throat where more words should be. He wanted to say that he loved Harry more than life itself, that he’d always be there for him. The world could tilt off its axis but Sirius’ love for the Potters wouldn’t wane. It couldn’t, really, not with how deeply they were entrenched in his life—in his very being.

“Of course, you will. No one would ever doubt that.” James placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “But you’re still not allowed to take my baby to a tattoo parlour, no matter how old he gets.”

if you liked this, i have an entire thing on my ao3 about tattoos and harry and sirius bonding over them postwar >.<

Can anyone please write a prongsfoot fluff bromance fic and tag me really need it

i think he would heal harry before the reprimand

“are you trying to make me angry?”

The question comes out as more of a demand, but Harry is surprised to hear Sirius’ voice as soft and firm instead of the loud and angry tone he would have expected with such a statement.

Regardless, it’s enough to render Harry silent and send his gaze to his shoes, which are dirty and splattered with stray flecks of blood.

“You don’t take curses for me,” Sirius states plainly, akin to saying the sky is blue or Blast-Ended Skrewts are dangerous. His eyes are steel as they flicker down to the side of Harry’s t-shirt, which is slowly turning crimson. “You don’t jump in front of any spell headed for me. I don’t care if it’s Avada Kedavra or Felix Felicis in some sort of miraculous charm form. You. Don’t. Do. That. Do you hear me?” Each word comes out short and punches Harry straight in the gut.

Harry can only nod wordlessly, his eyes fixed to the floor. Sirius takes a step closer and gently forces Harry’s chin upwards with his forefinger. 

“I protect you remember?” Sirius says softly. “That’s the gift I was lucky to receive when your parents made me your godfather. I look out for you. Not the other way around. You got it?”

Harry nods again, his own eyes burning as he looks into Sirius’ own grey ones. Behind the frustration, Harry realizes, he can only see pure love. 

Sirius sighs and releases Harry’s chin, instead slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“C’mon. Let’s get that side checked out.” 

The last part its plain cute! I have nothing else to say!

Harry growing his hair long because since he was a child, that was the only thing he could control: his hair was wild and free and Aunt Petunia could not cut it.

He liked his hair, it was thick and dark and he had control over it. So he decides to grow it out.

But Harry was never really good at planning ahead. By third year, it reaches his shoulders and he shyly takes Hermione to the side to ask her about proper hair care. Hermione frets about using conditioner (Harry does) and actually brushing it (Harry doesn’t) but she can only give him vague tips because while Harry’s hair is a mess of unruly locks, Hermione’s curls are tight and messy in a completely different way.

Hermione eventually comes back to him after some thorough research at the library and a round of questions to all the other girls and is able to handle Harry a neatly written list of products that would help keep his hair healthy.

When Harry stumbles into the dormitory with new bottles, Ron raises his eyebrow and asks him if he’s finally decided to take care of that bird nest. Harry nods and Ron smiles before asking him if he’d let Ron brush it. ‘You always look like you’d rather eat a pile of Hippogriff dung,’ Ron reasons and Harry barely hears it because his mind is going haywire. He asks Ron if he knows anything about hair care anyways and Ron laughs, reminding him of Ginny and that’s the day Harry finds out his best friend can tie up a mean french braid.

He thought that letting people touch his hair would be dreadful. Harry was so sure he would hate every second of it, but instead he finds it quite delightful. When Ron’s fingers run through his locks and when Hermione rests a hand on the back of Harry’s head, he can’t help but feel calm and content. It gets presumably bad when the feeling of contentment is replaced by a proper backflip inside his chest as Ron fixes one of Harry’s bangs behind his ear. Harry tries not to think about it.

When he meets Sirius for the first time, he has long hair too. It is nothing like his, Harry thinks. Sirius’ hair is worn and thin and damaged by years of neglect and malnutrition, but the way it falls over his shoulder feels like a telltale of what it once used to be. Glorious.

It takes a while for Sirius’ hair to start looking healthy again. When Harry used his bathroom at Grimmauld Place he finds the shower supplied with the same products he would keep in the Gryffindor Tower’s lavatories and he feels warm. Maybe he could ask Sirius about his hair routine.

One day during a summer Harry is spending at Grimmauld Place, Ron galaxies away, he makes his way to the armchair Sirius is sitting on in the living room. Brush in hand, he shyly asks Sirius if he would like to fix his hair up for him a bit and Sirius smirks before saying he can do much more than that. That’s the day Harry starts considering braiding hair flawlessly might just be a Pure-blood thing.

Golden Trio Headcannons:

Ron was the one who taught Harry how to tie his shoe laces, after he noticed Harry tucked his laces into his shoes. "No-one ever cared enough to teach me..." "I care enough."

Both Ron and Harry were with Hermione when she started her period for the first time. "I'm...BLEEDING" "Calm down, it's your period, its just the shock of it, My sister got hers last year." "should I get Mcgonagall-"

Ron is the only one of the 3 who regularly goes to breakfast, he tends to pack toast in his bag to give to Harry and Hermione because sometimes they forget or they just don't bother and IT WORRIES HIM-

Harry and Hermione have the same favourite book as a child. Matilda, both relate to the book in very different ways. "It just gave me hope, really, she discovered her magic and found someone who loved her." "Harry, you also found people who love you" "I know"

Harry memorised how ron and Hermione drink their tea. Ron dash of milk, lots of sugar. Hermione, lots of milk, 1 sugar. He makes the best cups of tea. "It's really a ghastly amount of Sugar Ron-" "Your tea is literally whiter than me, don't judge"

Ron bakes treacle tart and jam tarts for Harry and Hermiones birthdays.

Harry and Hermione were once mistaken for siblings, and neither of them corrected the person. "Yeah, she's my older sister" ron would never forget the smiles on their faces. Everytime Hermione would go back to that Cafe, they would always ask about her younger brother.

Hermione was also the first person to hug Harry since he was placed with the Dursleys when he was 1. Ron was the second person to hug him.

Harry used to leave change around Rons room when he knew he was a few sickles short of something he knew Ron wanted. Because Ron would never accept money from Harry. Ron never found out, but Hermione saw him do it one day. "Your secret is safe with me"

Ron and Hermione are the Godparents to Harry and Ginny's children. And vice Versa. (Exept Lily Luna, whose God Parents are Neville and Luna)

Harry has a photo album filled with photos of him and his friends, that made in 2nd year, that album starts with him and ron and hermione, and ends with him and his family together.

It was actually Hermione who taught Harry how to tie his tie for school, and she wouldn't let him get on the boat without "being in proper uniform. Just because your the boy who lived doesn't mean you can just not tie your tie."

Harry and Ron were eachothers best men.

Ron and Hermione sometimes purposely walk slowly, when Harry finally starts to open up, so that he has more time to talk and won't close back up when they near where they're going.

Harry and Ron carrying some of hermiones work for her in lessons they share, because "Mione, you'll break your back carrying all that?!?!" "Yeah Ron's right- why the fuck do you have so much paper?!?!" "Parchment" "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT HERMIONE-"

Harry and hermione sharing their favourite muggle treats with ron "Mars bars mine" "I've always loved strawberry laces myself!!" And Ron sharing his favourite wizard treats with them.

Harry teaching Ron how to cook the muggle way and Ron teaching Harry how to cook the magic way. (Hermione was banned from the kitchen after she got frustrated with the spells and just decided to leave the boys to it as they actually enjoyed it) "I mean, you cooked for us during the hunt, the least we can do is cook for you now!" "You don't have to be good at everything, babe!!" "FINE-"

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione make sure too meet up for lunch at least twice a week, as they have busy lives now and they want to make that effort too see eachother. They've only missed around 15 of these, either because of honeymoons, child birth, Harry being "INJURED WHAT THE FUCK MATE DID YOU DO?!" "He was stabbed" "LIGHTLY stabbed" "YOU BLOODY PASSED OUT FROM BLOOD LOSS-" "eh" "EH?!?!?"

im rusty. so rusty. and also extremely late for christmas. i may as well have waited 350 days until the holidays came around again, but im trying to write more this year, so hear you go? eek im nervous. please pardon any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. enjoy! also tumblr doesn't seem to have line breaks so sorry if any time jumps are confusing.

also a warning for language and mentions of wanting to step in front of a bus as an extreme response to being embarrassed. i swear this is all fluff otherwise.

Harry doesn't know what to get Sirius for Christmas.

Well, to clarify, Harry doesn't know if he can get Sirius anything adequately worth a damn. Because how can a game (magical or not) or piece of art or trinket or any sort of anything say hey Merry Christmas and by the way, thanks for saving me from my horrible abusive household where I lived in a cupboard and for wrangling a fucked up wizarding judicial system so that it both exonerates you from a murder you didn't commit and lets you adopt a kid you only properly met six months ago.

Harry would also like the gift (if he ever manages to find something) to say also thank you for giving me my own bedroom and for making pancakes every Saturday morning and for letting me visit my friends and for playing two-man Quidditch with me and for ruffling my hair and for always letting me pick the film that we watch and for telling me stories about my parents and for always being just enough and for not pushing me when I have nothing to say and for calling me by my name instead of shouting boy angrily-

Harry figures that he should cut himself off there. Any more gratitudes and the gift will literally be impossible to find, lest it be the size of Hogwarts in an effort to cram any and all unspoken messages Harry doesn't have the courage to voice out loud.

So Harry does what he usually does in a sticky situation. He turns to his friends.

No clue mate, Ron writes. I normally get Mum perfume and Dad whatever Muggle trinket he's been obsessing over. So unless Sirius wants a rubber duck, I probably won't be much help. But you could probably give him one and he'd be ecstatic. You're pretty much his favorite person right now.

Ah bloody hell. Do you think I should get Sirius something as a thanks for Pig?

Even though he's sure Ron's right (although Padfoot might enjoy a rubber duck more than Sirius), Harry doesn't have time to add Ron's own gift conundrum to his list of problems, so he turns to Hermione, who ends up being a bit more helpful.

I know you said that Sirius was interested in curse-breaking and how it can be used to help with cleaning up Grimmauld Place, so maybe something pertaining to that? A book or starter kit? Or perhaps something a bit more personal, something he couldn't just buy in a shop. Don't worry too much, Harry. He'll love whatever it is you give him because it's you.

Harry disregards the book suggestion immediately. Sirius does read; over the holiday break the two of them have taken to sitting quietly on opposite sides of the couch in the sitting room, reading books from the Black family library and munching on the latest treat Mrs. Weasley has sent them while flames blaze in the fireplace, only breaking the peaceful quiet occasionally to share whatever interesting passage has just been read. But Harry doesn't want to give a present that reminds Sirius of the exhausting work they do every day trying to make Grimmauld Place a habitable home.

Hermione's other suggestion, however, gets Harry thinking. Something he couldn't just buy in a shop. That obviously eliminates all of the last-resort items Harry had on his mental list, as they were dumb things he had planned to frantically order by mail once he gave up on the idea of finding something good enough for Sirius. But it also opens up a new idea, something that Harry himself had appreciated when he had received it a few years ago.

He begins firing off letters and mail-in order forms with an efficiency Hermione would admire. The owls return in quick fashion, up to three or four a day. Sirius doesn't notice anything at first, but when Hedwig taps on the kitchen window for the second time that day during breakfast, he gets up and lets her in with a raised eyebrow at Harry.

"Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment?" he asks, somewhat incredulously, peering at the label on the package. "Harry, love, you know we can just go to Diagon Alley whenever you'd like. No need to rely on owl post if you're running low on supplies."

Harry flushes and snatches the small, soft package from Hedwig, stuffing it under his armpit and looking determinedly at his porridge. He hopes he doesn't have ACTUALLY IT'S PART OF YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENT written all over his face.

"It's fine," he shrugs, aiming for casual nonchalance with his tone. "It's just a small thing. No point in going all the way down to Diagon Alley. Besides, the crowds would drive you crazy. They'd probably give you a concussion trying to get a picture."

Sirius grimaces, probably thinking of their last attempt to go for an ice cream at Fortescue's shortly before Harry had left for the fall term. They'd returned to Grimmauld Place ice cream-less and with a giant tear down the front of Harry's robes.

"Nothing a Glamour Charm wouldn't fix," he responds, grabbing his own empty bowl and bringing it to the sink. "Anyway, it's not fair for us to be shut up in this damned house because some people can't behave themselves in public. You just let me know whenever you want to go out, alright? I promise I won't breathe down your neck while you look at potions ingredients and whatnot. Even if they all suspiciously happen to be ingredients for an Enlarging Potion."

He manages to ruffle Harry's hair before the boy squawks out a "Sirius!" and darts out the kitchen, cackling in response to Harry's sputtered "I'm not... I wouldn't... SIRIUS!"

As Christmas approaches, Harry begins to stay up later and later into the night, working frantically to finish Sirius' present. One late night (or early morning, really), he hears a gentle knock on his door. He jumps and shoves the half completed project under his comforter.

"Come in!"

Sirius peeks his head through the cracked open door. "Are you alright? I was getting a glass of water and noticed your light was still on."

Harry nods, trying to convey a casualness he doesn't feel beneath the stress of wanting to have the present ready by Christmas morning. "Yes. Fine. I was just... reading." He reaches for his nightstand and holds up the latest book he's knicked from the Black family library for this exact purpose.

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "You sure? I've read that one before. Couldn't last more than thirty seconds at a time without falling asleep."

Harry glances at the cover. He hasn't even cracked it open yet. "It's actually quite interesting. I've always been fascinated by... the evolution of wizarding legalese from 1500 to 1800." He internally winces as the subject matter is finally made apparent to his sleep-deprived brain.

Sirius pauses, clearly sensing that something's up. He must decide that now's not the time to probe further because he says, "Alright. You're stronger than me, then. Let me know if you need anything though." He begins to retreat and close the bedroom door but stops right before he actually does. "I forgot, " he murmurs, opening the door wide and stepping fully into Harry's bedroom. He approaches Harry where he's sitting on his bed. Harry tries to discretely shove the half-finished present further under the covers. "You had a letter downstairs. We must have missed it earlier. I only saw it when I was getting water." He hands over a rather thick envelope to Harry, who flips it over, notes the name of the sender, and smiles, relieved.

Sirius lets out a small puff of air, and Harry looks up at the sound. Sirius pastes on a rather strained smile. "Do you often write to Mrs. Weasley?"

Harry's brain scrambles for a response. "Erm. Not really."

He doesn't say anything else, unsure how to explain away the situation convincingly. A rather awkward silence settles between them. Sirius looks as if he's summoning the courage to say something.

Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm here if you ever want to talk, Harry. I know the Weasley's have always been great to you, and I never want to feel like you're getting that taken away. But, I just want you to know that I'm also here, in addition to them. For anything. No questions asked or judgement cast. Alright?"

The letter slips out of Harry's grip, as he frantically waves his hands in front of him, desperate to correct Sirius' perception of the situation. "Oh, no, Sirius, I know! I swear it. We were just... planning Ron's birthday present this year. They wanted to throw him a party." The fib comes easily.

Sirius visibly relaxes. "Oh. Ron's birthday's not until April though."

"Yes," Harry's brain scrambles for an explanation. "But you know how Mrs. Weasley is. Always trying to stay ahead. She's already starting to plan the menu. Fretting between bacon sandwiches or chicken legs for the main course."

Sirius shakes his head, a genuine smile starting to form on his face. "Well you know my vote is always for chicken legs. Assuming I'm invited of course."

"You know you're always invited. Mrs. Weasley always wants an opportunity to make sure you're feeding me properly," Harry rolls his eyes. "And Ron thinks you're pretty cool too. Even though you broke his leg."

Sirius gives him a mock scowl. "Hey now! I wasn't in my right mind that night. And I gave him an owl to make up for it! Even though I was probably doing myself more of a favor than him. That damned owl was driving me mad."

Harry giggles, and Sirius' smile grows wider at the sound. He lets out a dramatic sigh and leans over to ruffle Harry's hair, ignoring the sounds of protest that come in response to the action.

"Alright then, love. I'm off to bed. Shout if you need anything, and I'll be here in faster than you can say chicken legs. You hear me?"

Harry nods. "Yes sir."

Sirius scowls for real this time. "None of that now, remember?"

Harry nods again, this time rather sheepishly. Sirius bends over to kiss his forehead before heading out of the bedroom, shouting a "Good night!" over his shoulder before he closes the door behind him.

Harry sighs in relief, pulls the present out from underneath the comforter, tears open Mrs. Weasley's letter, and gets back to work.

The morning of the 25th is bright and cold.

Harry is a ball of nerves as the breakfast plates get cleared away and the two of them prepare to go to the sitting room to open presents. Padfoot had barged into Harry's room at half past seven, barking loudly and leaping onto the bed, nearly giving Harry a heart attack in the process. He'd only finished Sirius' present in the wee hours of the morning and had barely managed to shove it into his desk drawer before he'd fallen asleep.

Sirius had dragged Harry into the kitchen for special Christmas chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate but had only allowed Harry to start eating once he agreed to don a ridiculously oversized Santa hat that matched the one Sirius had on his own head.

"If I'd known you liked Christmas so much, I'd have taken you to the Muggle mall to get a picture with Santa," Harry grumbles only half-heartedly as he watches the milk heat up on the hob. Sirius was adamant about making hot chocolate the old-fashioned way.

Sirius laughs loudly and hooks his arm around Harry's neck, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. "It's our first Christmas together, kiddo! First of many. You can get past your anti-morning attitude for that, can't you?"

"I gueeeeeeees," Harry mock-whines, drawing out the word as he adds the chopped chocolate to the steaming milk. He's secretly pleased that Sirius seems to somewhat enjoy his company. It shows he's not such a terrible charge.

"Thank you for your sacrifice," Sirius states dramatically. He gives Harry one last squeeze before releasing him. "Now come on, let's get to presents. I call going first!" He darts off to the sitting room where, overnight, a large pile of presents has piled in front of the eight-foot tall tree Sirius had dragged home one afternoon (with lots of swearing).

Harry gulps nervously as he pours hot chocolate into two mugs and tops them both with a handful of marshmallows. His hands are slightly shaking as he brings them both to the sitting room. Sirius is poking around the heap of gifts as he enters the room, and Harry spots the hastily wrapped, lumpy package he completed only a few hours ago.

Please like it, please like it, please like it, he silently begs as he sets the mugs on the coffee table. The sight of the gift is almost nauseating, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the hot chocolate.

Sirius turns at the sound to spot Harry and grins. "Alrighty, kiddo, what do you want to unwrap first? I did go a bit overboard this year, you'll have to forgive me. But there's plenty here from your friends!" He's practically vibrating with excitement.

Harry straightens his back and clears his throat. "Actually, do you mind if you do the opening first?"

Sirius pauses. "Are you sure? I swear mine are quite good."

Harry nods vigorously. "Yes. You can start with mine. It's right on top. The green wrapping." Let's just get this over with, he thinks.

Sirius picks up the package and shakes it gently. It makes no noise, and Harry can't help but let out a chuckle despite the knots in his stomach. Sirius grins at him and begins to carefully unwrap the gift.

Harry's legs suddenly feel like treacle tart filling. He lowers himself onto the couch so he doesn't pass out.

The wrapper paper gently falls to the ground, revealing a mound of knit material. Sirius unravels the pile to reveal a rather lumpy, oversized navy blue sweater with a slightly misshapen black dog woven onto the front.

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's heart drops to his stomach. He opens his mouth, desperate to explain away the situation. "It's uh... it's... erm... it's a sweater? I made it?" As if that wasn't fucking obvious, he internally snarls at himself. He shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "Yes, I, um, I made it. That's uh... that's Padfoot. On the front of it. I knitted it."

Sirius doesn't say anything.

Harry's words start coming out faster and faster, hoping something comes out that remedies this clusterfuck of an event. "Mrs. Weasley helped me. She sent me instructions. And the patterns? That 's why she was sending me so many letters. I didn't know how to do it. They aren't throwing a party for Ron."

Sirius still doesn't say anything.

Oh fuck! Harry thinks wildly. He's probably livid I lied. Oh fuck fuck fuck. "I'm sorry I lied to you! I just wanted it to be a surprise," he manages to get out. "That's why I was ordering so much through owl post. I had to get the yarn and the needles. And I kept having to order more yarn because I kept getting frustrated and messing up a lot. I didn't want you to know. Until now, that is. Obviously."

Sirius. Still. Doesn't. Say. Anything.

Harry wants to crawl into a hole and die. But for some stupid, idiotic reason, he keeps speaking. "I wasn't sure if you'd like the color? I actually realized that I don't know what your favorite color is. But whenever Mrs. Weasley makes one for me or for the Weasley kids, she usually does our favorite color. Or house colors. But I figured you have lots of things in Gryffindor colors? Like your wand holster. And then I noticed that you wear a lot of navy. So I thought that might be nice."

If Sirius doesn't say anything, Harry just might call the Knight Bus so he can step in front of it. He decides to get everything off of his chest before he has to do so.

"Mrs... uh... Mrs. Weasley made me one," he explains softly. "My first year. And every year after that. It means a lot to me. I think it was probably the first gift I ever got. And it kind of made me feel like part of their family? A little bit at least. So... so I wanted to give you one. Not from her, of course. But from me. So you could feel like a part of... our family?" His sentence embarrassingly ends like a question, so he hastily tacks on, "If you want to, of course."

Sirius finally moves, and Harry shuts his mouth. He gently sets the sweater down on the armchair next to him, walks over to where Harry is sitting, and pulls him up into the tightest, fiercest hug Harry has ever experienced.

Neither say anything for a few moments. Until Harry can't deal with not being able to breathe and squeaks out, "Uh? Sirius? I can't really inhale."

Sirius releases him quickly and takes a step back. "Sorry."

Harry feels awkward again. He clears his throat, hoping to fill the silence with something. "I hope you like it. But I know it's not done very well. So I can take it apart if you'd rather that. The shop said they'd take the yarn back as long as it wasn't too worn."

Sirius' head snaps up. "What? Harry, my love, I don't not like it. I love it."

Harry's mouth goes dry. "What?"

Sirius gives him a small smile. His eyes look suspiciously glassy. "Harry. You made this for me. You made this for me! It's my favorite color, and it's got me on it! Of course I love it. Not just because you took the time and the effort to make something for me. Because, my goodness, how do you even start with something like this? It must have taken you ages. But also because, well, you said it yourself. I mean, I already felt like part of the same family with the whole adoption bit and knowing you since you were a baby and whatnot, but it's always nice to know you feel the same. And I'm so honored to be a part of your family. Always will be. You have to know that, alright?" Sirius presses their foreheads together. "Alright?"

Harry nods, feeling a little something catch in his throat. He nods.

"Thank you for my gift," Sirius says softly. "I love it. No talk about talking it apart. I'll be proper mad if you do, you hear me?"

Harry nods again. Sirius releases him. He grabs the sweater from the armchair and pulls it over his head. The hem is uneven and the dog looks more like a cat once the sweater settles on his body, but Sirius only looks down at it and grins.

"Now come on, it's your turn to open presents. I don't think any of mine are as good as a handmade sweater, but I hope you like them anyway. And that's got me thinking, we ought to do a Christmas card no? Especially now that I've got a nice sweater on. Mrs. Weasley might tear up at the sight of a photo of the two us. Come on, come on, pick a present."

Harry rolls his eyes without any real heat behind the action. And he doesn't say anything later when he feels a burst of pride when he sees the photo they take in front of the Christmas tree that afternoon, Sirius wearing the sweater with the biggest, proudest smile Harry has ever seen.

He just bottles the feeling and hopes to remember it forever.