Good evening, everyone!

I know I've been a royal idiot and not updated 'Letting Him Go' in far too long, but I just haven't been able to.

And now, I found some time to write, and rather than continue on that I began a new story which has been brewing in my head for a while.

I don't know, really, how I feel about it. I suppose it's all right, but only you can tell me (: Hopefully, if it isn't yet, it'll get better later.

As you may have noticed, I'm in love with stories where Harry is adopted by someone who loves him (or, in Snape's case, grows to love him). So it should come as no surprise that I gave Sirius a turn here. I hope you all accept my way of bringing it about, and that it isn't too... incredible. There will be further explanations later.

Like LHG, this story will most likely contain scenes of corporal punishment, in the form of spankings. I've said it before, but I will stress this again: I do not personally condone in this form of discipline, but it is added for different reasons. In LHG it is simply because it is how I perceive Severus Snape.

In this one, it is more a symbol of imperfection. Sirius was never meant to be a father. He was the godfather, the carefree bachelor. Also, I don't think it is unbelievable that this would've happened in the Harry Potter books. For example, Ron mentions in 'the Prisoner of Azkaban' that his mother 'walloped Fred with her broom'. If this disturbs you, though, either skip it or find another story.

Anyway, I think I've rambled long enough. Please take a look and tell me what you think. Remember: reviews are like cookies: small, delicious and addictive!

Ivy

A window rattling scream, putting the Fat Lady to shame, woke the entire Gryffindor tower one winter night. It came from the first year boys' dorm, and all its occupants, including the boy who'd screamed, bolted out of their beds. Ron Weasley, who was the person who'd uttered the ungodly noise, yelled again, pointing at his bed.

Harry Potter, best friend of the distraught redhead, opened his mouth in astonishment as Neville, too, began screaming. They could by now hear all other students running out of their dorms in a panic, and it wouldn't be long until the prefects came bursting in.

The reason for all the commotion was quite obvious: at the foot of Ron's bed, rather than a rat curled up in its sleep, was a greying lump of a man, just waking up and looking around in confusion. Harry had never seen him before, but he felt oddly familiar.

"Who the hell are you?" Ron screamed at the man, at the same instant that the door was flung open and Percy stormed inside.

"Just what are you-" He broke off immediately at seeing the man sitting up on Ron's bed, holding his head as if troubled by a severe headache. His eyes widened, and with a flash he'd got all the children out of the room and cast a body binding spell on the man.

"Get Professor McGonagall," he instructed firmly to one of the other prefects, who nodded and ran off. "No one enter this room." A seventh year prefect, Lee Mallory, appeared suddenly, dressed already in jeans and a shirt.

"Percy?" she asked.

"Somehow a man got into their dorm," he said quickly, facing the girl whose eyes were widening. "I cast a body binding spell and have warded the door. But…" She flicked her wand out and waved four spells over the door.

"There, that should hopefully keep him occupied for a while," she said. "Have you sent for-"

"McGonagall," he replied before she had time to formulate the question. "She will undoubtedly send for the Headmaster."

"Good. Now, we need to get the kids out and-"

"Can I just ask something?" Harry interjected, having listened to the exchange. Mallory nodded at him, having only noticed he was there. "How could he possibly have got into our dorm?"

"We don't know, Harry," replied Percy importantly.

"He must've got past the school's protections…" muttered Lee thoughtfully.

"We should ask the Fat Lady." They all turned around to see Hermione, rubbing her eyes as she approached them through the other people, all trying to get down into the Common Room. They spun around to face her, and she stared right back. "It's obvious, isn't it?" she said in a small voice, wringing her hands in her nightgown.

"Yes… Of course," said the seventh year girl, slapping her forehead before running downstairs, Percy hot on her heels. Hermione walked up to her friends, frowning at them.

"Are you all right?"

"Sure," Ron replied, though his voice broke and he looked truly stricken at what had happened. Hermione took his hand and smiled a bit.

"It's our first term here and already crazy things are happening," Harry sighed as they trudged downstairs. "First all this with Nicolas Flamel, and now some strange man in our dorm." He managed to make a good show of not being bothered at all, but was in fact trying to get his heart to calm down. The fact that the man felt familiar did nothing to help his nerves.

As they entered the Common Room, the portrait swung open, letting in their Head of House, followed by Lee and Percy. However, before the portrait had time to shut again, the Headmaster slipped in, looking graver than Harry had seen him before.

"Albus, we must go up immediately," McGonagall said to the Headmaster, who nodded silently. "Prefects, keep all students down here," the Head of House instructed the prefects, who nodded seriously as they watched the two professors hurry up the stairs.

Harry twirled his quill in his hand as he thought back at the night that had begun the chain of events that would change his life. After they had discovered it was Peter Pettigrew who had been disguised as Scabbers for ten years, a trial had been kicked into action, ultimately leading to Pettigrew being locked away in Azkaban, and Sirius Black being let out. After a rather overwhelming meeting with Dumbledore, Harry had been reunited with his godfather, who had adopted him after three weeks.

Now, it was the first week of the summer holidays, and Harry had just come home to the house in Cambridgeshire that Sirius had bought shortly after his release. During the spring term, Harry had Floo'ed home every weekend to get to spend as much time as possible with his godfather.
He was sitting in the library with his school work, though his thoughts were miles away from his Transfiguration essay.

It had been odd, but not at all as hard as he'd thought to get used to having a parent. A parent. It felt strange to think, to say. He couldn't actually believe how quickly it had all gone. Once Sirius had been acquitted, it'd taken mere weeks to get the official documents settled and then they moved into the new house, just in time for Christmas. Harry thought back at Christmas day with an embarrassed smile.

The boy looked shyly back at his godfather, who was standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

"Go on Harry, the tree won't bite you," he laughed. Harry blushed slightly and edged closer to the Christmas tree, with presents piled as high as possible under its lush branches. "The one on the bottom left is from Mrs Weasley. Why don't you start with that one?" Harry nodded, relieved that he'd been given some kind of instruction.

After getting over the initial nervousness of opening the first present, Harry relaxed, and Sirius came to sit in the armchair, commenting in a quiet voice whenever Harry asked him anything. It was the first Christmas Harry didn't want to end.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Harry jumped about a feet into the air as he was snatched out of his reverie. Sirius just entered the library, smiling his goofy, proud smile, like he often did when he observed his godson. The boy's cheeks coloured; he still wasn't used to his godfather's casual teasing, and was never entirely sure if he was joking or not.

"Sorry, I was just…"

"Harry, it's all right. It's the holidays." Sirius flopped down on one of the other chairs, placing his elbows in the table as he gazed at his godson. "How's it going? All right?" Harry shrugged, scribbling small, black snitches on the corner of the parchment. "Oy, don't do that," Sirius admonished lightly, waving Harry's hand away before vanishing the mess with a flick of his wand. Harry dropped the quill and fidgeted. Sirius frowned, suddenly very aware of his boy's nervous stance. "Harry, what's the matter?" he asked, a worried crease soon decorating his forehead. He rose from the chair and walked around the table, crouching down beside Harry's chair. He placed a comforting hand no the boy's knee and jostled it slightly. "Hey, speak to me, mate." Harry was looking down into his lap, and to Sirius' astonishment, he heard the boy sniffle as a stray tear plinked down in the boy's jeans. Completely ignoring Harry's surprised gasp, Sirius placed his hands under the boy's arms and swiftly lifted him up, carrying him over to the couch and sitting them both down, side by side. Putting an arm around Harry's slight shoulders, he squeezed.

"You have to talk to me, Harry," he said quietly, trying to quench the worry burning his chest. When the child remained stubbornly quiet, Sirius sighed and kissed the top of his head. "All right then. I'll go start making dinner. You can always talk to me." Sirius stood up and left the room, unaware of his godson's longing eyes boring into his neck. Groaning quietly, Harry threw himself back onto the sofa, squeezing his eyes shut. Harry, you complete baby, he scolded himself, thoroughly mortified and irritated that he'd started crying in front of his godfather. He didn't want the man to think he was such a baby. He was eleven after all.

It was just that… Things had gone pretty quickly, and after having moved in with Sirius, Harry had heard tons of stories about his parents, as well as been shown picture after picture of them. All the info was so much to take in, and Harry had, for some reason, began missing his parents. It wasn't that he hadn't done before, but now, with Sirius so close, it'd become much more profound, and harder to get away from. He felt down and empty all the time, and didn't know how to tell Sirius. The man had been so great about everything, bought Harry new clothes, books, a Quidditch set, taken him for lunch in Diagon Alley, allowed him to go nuts in Honeydukes. How did he tell that man that he missed his parents? That made it sound as though he wasn't at all grateful to him.

Sighing again, Harry stood and walked over to the table, gathering all his things. His arms laden with parchment, books, quills and ink, he left the library and started the trek upstairs to leave everything in his room. Sirius wasn't particularly strict about anything, but he was adamant that Harry tidied up after himself. Among other things. But, in comparison to the Dursleys, it was nothing worth mentioning.

Just as he dumped the things in a haphazard pile on the floor, Sirius called.

"Harry, dinner!"

"Coming!" He smiled to himself, forgetting, for the moment, his breakdown earlier. He loved having Sirius call him for dinner. It made everything feel wonderfully normal.

Leaving his room, he jogged down the stairs and entered the kitchen, where Sirius was placing plates on the table. He smiled at his godson, who looked nervous. Harry wasn't sure if Sirius would mention what had happened just half an hour earlier. Luckily, though, he said nothing, and Harry sat down.

"Did you get any work done?" he asked pleasantly as Harry poured himself some pumpkin juice.

"A bit," Harry grimaced. Sirius chuckled.

"Well, you have the whole summer. Just don't leave it 'til the last day." Sirius could barely believe how he'd turned into Harry's… father. He didn't much like to think of it that way. Harry was James' boy, and he would never forget that. However, he was, legally, Harry's father, and would make damn sure he didn't disappoint the child.
He used to be a carefree young man; a man no one thought would ever grow up. Ten years in Azkaban had, however, made him acutely aware of how fragile life was, and he was all of a sudden a more careful person, especially now that he had another person to care for, someone he was putting before himself. He had not lost his humour and love for teasing, though, which Harry had noticed very quickly.

"I have something I need to talk to you about," Sirius said after a moment, looking thoughtfully at Harry, though he didn't seem to actually see him.

"Yeah?" Harry replied with genuine interest. Sirius looked uncertain of how to begin, poking his salad about his plate.

"I have an old… friend. I have only seen him three times since I was released and he needs somewhere to live." Harry squinted. Not that he wasn't intrigued about this "friend", but was Sirius suggesting he come live with them? As childish as it was, Harry felt rather protective of his godfather, and was reluctant to share his attention with anyone. "He's coming for tea tomorrow, and I would very much like for you to meet him." Harry nodded slowly, scraping his knife along the plate. He suddenly felt his godfather's hand over his, making him stop the screeching. "You'll ruin the plate," Sirius murmured. "His name is Remus Lupin, and we went to school together. He was also a close friend of your father," he added in the same quiet voice. "All right?" Harry hesitated, but then nodded his assent, making Sirius smile widely again. "Thank you."

Harry sat in the armchair in the parlour, banging his heels against the legs of it. Sirius was upstairs, doing something or other, and his friend should arrive any moment.

They hadn't spoken more of the matter after the previous dinner, and Harry was growing restless. Sirius hadn't exactly said he couldn't leave the parlour, but he had told him to "just relax; Remus will come soon".

All of a sudden, the fire in the fireplace turned a dazzling green and spat out a wizard of perhaps 30 years. Harry stood up and stared at the man. He had sandy hair, faintly blue eyes and a kindly shaped mouth. Dressed in slacks, a shirt and worn robes, he looked decidedly misplaced in the whole and clean parlour.

As the man looked up, he froze and stared in amazement at the boy in front of him. For a moment, he seemed unable to speak, and they just regarded each other with interest and some sadness, in Remus' case.

"Harry," he said eventually, his voice soft and gentle.

"Hi," the boy replied shyly. Just then, Sirius entered the room and smiled at his friend.

"Remus," he greeted, and took the man in an embrace, which Remus returned fiercely. Harry stood there, feeling rather awkward. When the two men released each other, they both turned to the boy. Harry fidgeted under their scrutiny and blushed slightly. Sirius hand landed on his shoulder pulling him into a one-armed hug.

"Harry, this is Remus Lupin," he introduced, and Remus stuck his hand out. Harry shook it carefully.

"Nice to meet you, sir," he mumbled. Remus chuckled.

"Remus will do fine, Harry. And it's very nice to meet you, too." Sirius beckoned them into the kitchen and filled the kettle.

"How do you find Hogwarts?" Remus asked Harry, who looked up in surprise at being addressed by this man he didn't know.

"Oh. It's fun I guess."

"You guess?"

"No it's fun," he replied, smiling apologetically at Remus who rolled his eyes and chuckled. "But this year was a bit strange."

"Yes I heard about the stone." Harry cringed at the mentioning of the stone, and felt Sirius eyes.

"Yeah…" he said, dragging the word into a whopping five syllables.

"Which reminds me," Sirius said, and Harry closed his eyes briefly. Hell. "We never finished discussing that." Remus raised an eyebrow at Harry, and glanced over at Sirius. "Later," he muttered to himself and started serving his friend and godson the steaming tea. "Now, how are you, Moony?" he asked.

"I'm just fine, don't fret," Remus said, rolling his eyes in Harry's direction, who giggled appreciatively.

"I am not fretting, Remus," Sirius said indignantly. "But you look pale and drawn, and I am the one just out of prison, not you." Remus winced as Sirius mentioned his decade in hell, but decided not to comment.

"You're fretting Padfoot, just admit it," Remus snorted. Harry watched them both with amusement, enjoying their easy banter.

"Oh shut up," Sirius muttered, and both Remus and Harry laughed. "Watch it," Sirius said, pointing at Harry, but ruined it all by smiling goofily.

"How are you?" Remus asked his friend, turning the tables around.

"Spectacular, of course," Sirius answered as if it was a completely stupid question.

"Come on, Padfoot, you've been locked up for ten years," Remus replied solemnly. "You can't convince me that you're spectacular." Sirius stirred his tea absentmindedly, and Harry looked at the opposite wall intently, not wanting to be a part of this conversation. He'd never asked Sirius about his time in Azkaban. At first he hadn't dared to, and when his curiosity had begun making itself known he'd remained silent out of tact.

"I… It's all right," he said quietly, sending Remus a look that Harry couldn't decipher. Remus nodded curtly before turning smilingly to Harry.

"So, Harry. Seeker… You must tell me about your games." Harry, pleased for this change of subject, immediately launched into an animated re-enactment of the Quidditch season, to which both adults listened with interest, even though Sirius had heard it all before.

"All right Harry, bedtime I believe." In the end, Remus had stayed for dinner as well, and then they'd all sat in the living room, talking and playing games.

Harry turned to gaze at his godfather, a look of sheer misery on his young face.

"Sirius…" he said, his voice almost a whine. Remus sat back in his chair, leaning away from the chess board where he and Harry had been playing.

"It's ten o'clock mate. You should've been in bed half an hour ago, should you not?" Harry huffed. "Go on, off you go." Feeling a bit nervous, but ignoring it, Harry said:

"Will you come up and say good night?" Sirius smiled affectionately at the boy.

"Of course I will. You go and get ready, I'll be right up." Harry nodded.

"Good night Remus," he said quietly, offering a small smile.

"Good night Harry. I'll see you soon, I hope." Harry nodded and walked slowly out of the room, barely getting anywhere with each step.

"Harry…" His godfather's voice wasn't quite warning, but Harry took the hint and sped up the stairs.

"Padfoot?" Remus asked as soon as they heard Harry enter his bathroom. Sirius groaned and placed his face in his hands, letting his carefree façade drop. "Sirius, are you sure you're all right?" Remus asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, Moony," Sirius answered in a tired voice. "But I don't know about Harry."

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning. "He seemed perfectly fine. Then again, this is the first time I've met him since he was a toddler, but he was very polite and talkative."

"Yes, he was fine tonight. But lately… He's been quiet and down. He even started crying yesterday." Remus stared at him in bewilderment.

"Whatever for?"

"I don't know! He won't talk to me!"

"Easy, mate."

"Sorry, sorry…" Sirius shook his head and took a deep breath. "I need to get a grip and figure him out."

"Just be there for him. He's eleven, Sirius, and probably hurting."

"Hurting?" Sirius asked, confused. Remus stared at him as though he was an idiot.

"Of course he's hurting. His parents are dead," he said bitterly, as though the words pained him, which they most certainly did.

"But surely he isn't…" And then it finally hit Sirius. He deflated and slumped in his chair, staring with wide eyes into space. "How could I have been so stupid…" He suddenly recalled the pained smiles Harry had displayed when Sirius had told him stories of Lily and James. He'd asked for them, yes, but Sirius hadn't thought… He'd seemed to happy… "Oh Moony, I've royally botched this up," he whimpered, pressing his knuckles into his forehead.

"No you haven't. I doubt Harry blames you for it. I just think he's afraid of talking to you about it. After all, he's only known you a few months."

"Please don't… He should've always known me. And you. And he shouldn't be living with me, but with his mum and dad. Bloody hell…"

"Don't do this to yourself," Remus said sharply, jabbing his finger in Sirius' direction. "He's here now, and that's all that matters. You take care of him, or I'll rip you to pieces." Sirius smiled reluctantly. "Now what's this about the stone?" Sirius laughed grimly.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Understandable. How did you go about it?"

"I didn't, really. I didn't want to ruin his first holiday here…" Remus rolled his eyes.

"So you let him get away with it? Smart move," he commented sarcastically.

"No, I won't," Sirius sighed, for what felt like the millionth time that day. "I'm going to talk to him about it tomorrow."

"Sirius Black, talking to a child about his misbehaviour. May I watch?" He threw a pillow at the werewolf. "But honestly. How are you feeling about raising a child?" Sirius thought for a moment.

"It's frightening. But it feels… good. Of course. Harry's a wonderful boy," he smiled. "But I have realised that he is a true Gryffindor."

"Courageous?"

"Reckless," Sirius corrected. Remus laughed heartily.

"I'm sure you'll be able to keep him in line," he said mirthfully. Sirius snorted, as if he seriously doubted that assessment, but didn't say anything.

"I'd best go and tuck him in," Sirius said, rising.

"Yes, I should leave."

"Why don't you stay?" Remus frowned. "I know you have nowhere permanent to live, Moony, so no theatrics now. You can stay here."

"Sirius-"

"Shush."

"All right then. But I want to pay you."

"Don't even think about it," Sirius warned in a voice usually reserved for his rambunctious godson.

"Please-"

"Lah-lah-laaaaah!" Sirius sang, holding his hands over his ears. Remus sighed and shook his head.

"Whatever."

"Good," Sirius smiled. Go make some tea, I'll be down soon." With that he left the parlour and headed up to his godson's room.

Harry was sitting on his bed, dressed in his pyjamas, his legs crossed, leafing through a book.

"Hi, mate," Sirius said softly and Harry looked up.

"'Ello," he replied, closing the book and placing it on the bedside table.

"You okay?" Harry nodded, removing his glasses and then crawling under the duvet. "Remus will be staying here, all right?" Harry nodded again, not wanting to comment. "And you and I will be talking about the stone tomorrow, got it?" he added with raised eyebrows. Harry blushed and nodded for the third time. Sirius tapped his cheek. "A verbal answer, please."

"Yes," the boy said quietly.

"Good." He pushed the boy down playfully and kissed his forehead. "Good night, sprog," he said, stroking the jet black hair away from his eyes. Harry smiled.

"Night, Sirius." The older man turned the light off and walked out, leaving the door open a few inches. It felt almost difficult to leave Harry each night when he went to sleep, and he unwillingly turned his back on the boy's room and re-joined Remus.