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Ghosts
Summary: Harry doesn't know how similar he is to his parents, and Sirius wishes they were still around to see it.
Characters: Sirius and Baby!Harry
Word Count: 936
Rating: K+

At two years old, Harry is walking, and though his speech is far from perfect, he's starting to string a few words together - small, simple sentences. His hair has grown, and Sirius can't help but grin every time he sees it, because it's starting to stick up in the back in a very familiar way. A second later, he feels a pang in his chest and has to look away.

It's early on a Saturday morning, and Harry has somehow waddled into his bedroom, and is tugging on the covers of his bed. Sirius raises his head groggily, and blinks down at him.

"How did you get out of your cot?" he grumbles, and as Harry holds his arms up, he takes the toddler up on the bed. Harry giggles up at him, sitting in the middle of the enormous bed.

Sirius sighs. He's still so small. Sirius is relieved to see that he still smiles a lot, still laughs a lot, and plays a lot. But he can't help but wonder. Does he think of his parents every day, in the way that Sirius does? Does he still remember their faces? Harry is fine. And while that's a good thing, in a way it brings on such a deep sadness that Sirius is tempted to lock himself in his room for days, because it's hardly bearable.

But if he wasn't fine, Sirius supposes, trapped in the clutches of paralyzing grief - it's the only thing that would be worse. And Sirius can't lock himself up in his room, because there is a two-year-old boy who needs him, and now that James is gone, it is all he can do, to take the very best care of the last remaining part of him.

And of Lily, too. Harry reminds Sirius of them both so much - by his eyes, his ridiculous hair. But by smaller things too. By the way he wrinkles his nose, or the familiarity of his thoughtful expression, or the little twitch in the corner of his mouth when he smiles, one corner just a tad higher than the other. By the way he knows when to pat Sirius' cheek and hug his neck, and it's so kind and comforting, he feels as if it's Lily patting his cheek and telling him it'll be alright, even if it's not in as many words.

Sirius smiles down at the little boy - he's still small for his age - and then leans over to his nightstand, taking something from the drawer. He takes Harry up to sit on his lap, his back to Sirius' chest, and opens the photo album.

"Look at this, Harry," he says quietly, in that voice full of wonder that he reserves for Harry, and that he would have beat himself up for using not three years ago.

He points to a picture, and Harry goes quiet, his tiny fingers reaching for the page. "That's your dad. He was my best friend, he was," Sirius tells him, and Harry blinks at the page, bouncing a little, obviously pleased.

"Dada," he exclaims, pointing at the picture suddenly. "Dada!"

Sirius nods, wiping his nose hurriedly. "Yeah, that's him," he mutters. "You remember him?"

Harry nods and giggles, staring at the picture in awe. Though it doesn't come without pain, Sirius is happy that he remembers him. He hopes it lasts.

He flips the page, sighing and breathing a little easier now. "And you know who that is, don't you?"

Instead of giggling and yelping, Harry is quiet. "Mama…" he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the photo carefully. When Sirius looks down at him, the toddler looks a bit confused. He blinks around, like he's expecting Lily to walk through the door any second. And when she doesn't come, he looks down at the picture again, tears filling his eyes. Though strangely, for a two-year-old, he doesn't let them fall. He picks his head up, and sniffles, but maybe he knows that somehow, somewhere, Lily and James don't want to see their son cry.

Sirius shows him every last picture of his parents that he has, and when it comes to the last couple, Harry's there too. Harry picks out one, in which both his parents have his arms around him, and are smiling down at him, and clutches it to his chest. He won't give it back to Sirius, and Sirius doesn't even try.

He just takes Harry up and goes to his room with him so he can put it carefully in his cot - and Sirius checks to see how he got out, and finds nothing - before he hauls Harry up in his arms, throwing him in the air and watching him giggle.

"Come on then, sport, let's get some breakfast. Your parents would haunt me to my grave if they thought I wasn't feeding you." They go downstairs, and if anything, Harry seems even happier than usual after seeing his parents.

Sirius smiles a little easier as he feeds him and gets him dressed. Remus is coming soon to take Harry for a walk, and Sirius is thinking of tagging along, maybe bringing the toy Quaffle Harry had received for Christmas, and has loved ever since. Sirius is sure that's his father in him, shining through.

Harry gurgles and bounces excitedly as Sirius fixes a hat on his head, and when Harry smiles, green eyes twinkling and his mouth twitching up at the corner just like his parents, Sirius knows that one day, this little boy is going to make Lily and James Potter very, very proud.

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