Author's Notes: Written pre-DH, so AU from the end of HBP. Contains sexual references, but nothing all that explicit, in the end.

When he emerged from the darkness, he wasn't at all sure where he was. He wasn't even certain where exactly he had been until that moment in time, except that he'd been surrounded by the voices of the others who were there with him. Since it was entirely silent wherever he'd come out, at least for the moment, he liked it better already.

"Sirius?"

He remembered that word. It was the word that had been used to refer to him, before. His name, he supposed.

But he couldn't respond to it quite yet, because his tongue refused to wrap itself around any relevant sounds. It had been too long since he'd spoken, he decided. There had been enough noise in the endless darkness without him adding to it.

The brightness was blinding after what seemed like an eternity without any light at all, but eventually his eyes began to adjust. He could make out shadows against the light, and then shapes. And then he could see what was before him for what it truly was; a group of people looking shocked and perhaps even a little happy to see him. Unless he was imagining that. Or unless he'd forgotten what facial expressions meant, even. It had been so long since he'd seen an actual face, let alone one filled with emotion.

"If I'd known you'd pop out of there as soon as we forced Voldemort in, I'd have killed the bastard years ago," whispered a stunned young man.

Sirius could see him almost clearly now, and the dark hair and glasses reminded him of someone. He knew that young man and he felt no fear as he looked at him. Which meant that wherever he was couldn't be too unfriendly. Especially not considering the grin that eventually spread across the boy's face.

* * * * *

Once he'd been escorted – dragged, really – back to the place where the young man claimed to live, a place that he knew he'd been to before and hated for some reason, Sirius had remembered a name that he associated with the young man.

But when those green eyes went wide and lost their happy warmth for the split second before the reaction could be covered up, Sirius's confused brain was quick to remember that his name was actually Harry. After that, he'd been certain to never so much as utter the name 'James' again for fear that he would drive away the only person who'd been friendly rather than simply amazed upon his return.

"You've missed so much," Harry told him one night as they ate the dinner Harry had prepared for the two of them. It was the first meal that hadn't seen the table full of people Sirius could barely remember. He was alone with Harry. The thought of it made him feel oddly pleased.

"I can't even remember what I didn't miss out on," Sirius eventually admitted softly, "so you'd better start there before you tell me about… after."

"I think I remember Remus," he said when Harry mentioned him. Though he'd remembered them being quite close, and he hadn't yet seen the man at all, so perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him.

Harry looked away uncomfortably, and Sirius suddenly realised that he'd missed quite a bit, after all.

"Oh," he said simply. "I'm sorry." He wasn't really sure if he should be apologising to Harry, since Remus had been his friend, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Harry shrugged it off and continued recounting what he knew of Sirius's life prior to when Harry himself had met his godfather.

Sirius couldn't say that he was unhappy about having to spend hours around the fire with Harry while the younger man filled him in to the best of his ability.

And when the mention of Azkaban made the memory of constant cold come to life, he was even less unhappy to be pulled into a comforting hug. It didn't occur to him that it would have been simpler, and perhaps more effective, to banish the cold by just spelling the fire hotter. All that mattered was the warmth of the arms around him.

* * * * *

When Sirius showed the first signs of getting his magic back, Harry looked ecstatic. Never mind that it was only a half-successful Lumos, Harry had assured him, because the important thing was that he was able to locate and use the magic within him. Harry would be happy to help him recover his magical ability, he continued saying. It would all come back over time. Sirius beamed at him.

Though Harry's wand didn't seem to fit as well as he was sure his old wand had, Sirius used it to practise some of the more basic charms well into the night, when Harry had already fallen into bed. It was better than nothing. He felt like he shouldn't be entering Harry's room without his knowledge, but there was no way around it if he ever wanted to impress Harry as he had that first time.

When Sirius performed an adequate levitation charm on the quill that Harry had left on his desk in case he wanted to write to anyone (knowing very well that Sirius couldn't remember most of the people from his life before the veil well enough to bother owling them), Harry was nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, he felt as if he'd made Harry proud. And on his own behalf, his body sung with the knowledge that it had succeeded in channelling his energy. He'd never been very good at concentrating his energy on useful things, if he remembered correctly. Harry's father – and Sirius was careful to not even think the name – hadn't really helped with that, he remembered, as he'd been just as bad.

When he levitated a spoon at breakfast, Sirius pretended to be surprised that it had worked. He didn't think that Harry would buy his feigned shock, but when the younger man said nothing of it, Sirius wrote it off as Harry being too busy showing how happy he was for him. Running across a room and practically leaping into another man's arms took a great deal of effort, after all.

Sirius was surprised how little effort it took to accept, and in fact enjoy, such a close embrace.

Harry had told him months before that he was his godson. Sirius had no memory of being any kind of real godfather. He wondered if that made the way he wrapped his arms around Harry firmly enough to keep him close long after the innocence of the hug had faded any less wrong.

* * * * *

When Ron Weasley stopped by Grimmauld Place unannounced to check up on them – his denials that that was what he was doing, or that he'd been sent by Hermione, were entirely transparent – Sirius could see a kind of tension between him and Harry. He thought that he remembered them being a lot closer than that. But, as Harry had pointed out several times since Sirius's return, a lot had happened.

When he heard Harry tell Ron, "I really am sorry, but I can't help how I feel," Sirius's mind leapt to the inevitable. Either Ron and Harry were involved, or Harry wanted them to be. This meant that Harry was likely not averse to being close to other men in a way that Sirius hadn't allowed himself to contemplate since he'd first had those kind of thoughts about Harry.

His first reaction was that his godson was gay, which was not something he would have really wanted, for he vaguely remembered how difficult that road was. His second thought was that he really didn't care as much as he should have. In fact, the thought warmed him in a very peculiar way.

But, of course, then Ron's discomfort seemed to break and Sirius witnessed him slap his best friend on the back in a manly way that was obviously intended to be not at all gay, thank you very much indeed.

"Right," Ron said, "so long as you remember not to stare at my arse in the changing rooms."

Harry laughed. "Ron, it wouldn't ever have been your arse I was staring at. Dating one Weasley in a lifetime is plenty, thanks."

That made Sirius very happy, though he didn't really like to admit it, even to himself.

He wondered whether he'd felt this way about Harry before he'd been lost behind the veil, and then decided that he didn't want to think about it. It was one thing to want to press his nearly-twenty-year-old godson up against the nearest wall and do decidedly ungodfatherly things to him. It was another thing entirely to covet a fifteen year old boy. Considering what Azkaban had done to him, Sirius couldn't be certain enough about himself to want to know for sure. He was afraid of what he might find.

Not afraid enough, though, to stop him from dreaming about Harry each and every night and waking up in a bed drenched in sweat and… other things. Merlin, he wished he didn't have to be alone then.

But if wishes were wands, then Sirius would have found one that was compatible enough for him to successfully cast a lubrication charm by now. As it was, he was fast running out of the lubrication potion he'd stolen from Harry during one of his late night expeditions into Harry's room.

* * * * *

In the end, it was Harry who made the first move. Sirius imagined that he was simply sick of the way they'd begun to act uncomfortable around each other. Sirius couldn't have agreed more. Confined as he was to Grimmauld Place, the only real companionship available to him came from Harry. He was meant to be his retreat from boredom and loneliness, not a means of enhancing those feelings.

It hadn't really been a momentous occasion. Sirius had thought there would be fireworks when he finally got what he'd been wanting for the past year. Instead, when Harry sighed almost irritably at Sirius's awkwardness and crossed the room, Sirius watched him in an almost unsurprised manner. When Harry tilted Sirius's head up and stooped down so that they could kiss without any need for Sirius to rise out of his armchair, it didn't feel like an electric shock. It merely felt like everything was returning to normal, as it had been before they'd grown self-conscious over their feelings for each other. It was comfortable again.

Sirius quite liked feeling that contented.

Though, then again, Sirius decided that perhaps he felt a little uncomfortable after all when Harry leaned down once again and ran his hand down the front of Sirius's trousers.

Sirius's eyes went wide. Harry grinned.

They both set off at a gallop in the direction of Sirius's bedroom – the master bedroom in Grimmauld Place – at almost the same moment.

~FIN~