Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Patria Potestas: Blood Ties	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Sirius Views: 17596 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 5
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Chapter Six – Denouement

27^th September, 2004

“Harry?”

Hermione's voice called from his sitting room, and Harry meandered out from his bedroom, a bag of green onion crisps dangling from his hand as he went, and saw her head resting in his fireplace.

“Yeah, what is it?” He asked, arching a curious brow at her floating head. It was strange to have her not barge in, and she looked genuinely concerned, which, Harry supposed, meant she had something regarding the courtship to discuss with him.

“Can I come through? I wanted to talk to you.”

Harry stared, still caught up in his confusion as to why she didn't just let herself in. It was a long moment before he realized that she was still waiting for an answer, and opened his mouth to answer, but his voice escaped him as little more than a squeak.

“Sure,” he coughed, “er, yeah, sure. Come through.”

Harry took a step back when he saw her green, swirling form approaching, and she tumbled out of the grate in a heap. He extended a hand to help her up, and she nodded her thanks as she stood with his help, then brushed herself off as she followed Harry through his flat and to the kitchen.

“Want a tea?” he asked without looking at her, and dropped the bag of crisps onto his little table.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” she replied, followed by a sharp crunch, which told Harry that she had swiped some of his snack.

Harry transferred the sugar and milk to the table, then tapped his kettle sharply with his wand, and it instantly began to issue steam from the spout. Hermione kept quiet, save for the sound of her eating his crisps, and did not speak until he had placed the mug in front of her and sat down, and snatched the bag back from her.

“So what did you want to talk about?” He asked, and watched as Hermione delayed answering by fiddling with her tea, adding milk and sugar, and sipping it thoughtfully before she finally spoke.

“I'm worried about you, Harry.”

“And why would you be worried about me?” Harry asked rhetorically, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Hermione frowned.

“I'm worried because you seem to be taking all of this in stride.”

“And how is that a bad thing?”

“Harry,” Hermione said with a heavy sigh, and slammed the mug in her hands down a little harder than was necessary. “Sirius is doing everything that he can to make this easy on you, and meanwhile you...when you're not acting like it's some sort of death sentence, you're...you're like a doll, or something. You just...” Hermione trailed off a flushed a faint pink.

“I just what, Hermione?”

“You just kind of go through it and nothing about what's going on seems to be sinking in. Harry, are you afraid of getting close to Sirius that way or—”

“Hermione, we've been over this,” Harry bowed his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He could feel a low thrum of anger and frustration at her, at Sirius, and at everything surrounding the courtship just below the surface of his mind, and it took a great feat of strength to keep from snapping at her. “No matter what changes between us, he'll still be my fucking godfather. And—and when he touches me, or holds my hand, or kisses me, I—fuck.” Harry jumped up from the table and turned from her so that she would not be able to see that he was on the verge of tears.

“He was the closest thing I had to a father, and I need to tear down everything that he was to me, everything that I am to him and...and...how can you expect me to just accept it that easily and move on?”

“Harry, do you think that any of this is easy for Sirius either?” Hermione asked exasperatedly, “we've been over this I don't know how many times. He sees you as a son, and he always has. He hates this as much as you do, if not more. But he's putting forward an effort to do what the courtship is asking of him, and trying to make you happy and not feel overwhelmed at the same time. Why can't you offer him the same courtesy?”

“Because...because...” Harry sputtered and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “It's just happening so fast. I can't just wake up one morning and decide to—to...” Harry felt a flush creep up his neck as the thought returned to him of what would be expected of him once the courtship was over. He shivered.

“Harry, I think you're being incredibly selfish,” Hermione said coldly, and Harry whirled around, mouth open angrily. Unfortunately, Hermione cut him off before he could speak. “You are not the only one affected by this courtship, but you are the only one acting like a child about it.”

Hermione stormed out before Harry had a chance to answer, and with a dull roar from his Floo connection, he was alone once more.

29^th September, 2004

Harry woke on the morning of the final 'date' with a bad taste in his mouth.

He hadn't spoken to Hermione since their argument two days earlier, and her words still rang in his ears, in particular her insinuation that he was being selfish.

Harry gritted his teeth as it came to mind again, and dragged himself out of bed, his normally pleasant morning routine ruined by his anger at one of his best friends. He was going along with all of this, wasn't he? He wondered as he went to his wardrobe and began to roughly dig through his clothes, How did that make him selfish?

“What does she know, it's not like she has to go through this thing...” Harry muttered angrily, and once more he pushed away the thoughts behind a mask of calm, and resumed preparing himself for the 'date' more or less on autopilot.

The Botanical Gardens, a wine-tasting in the English countryside, and a guided tour through the Quidditch Hall of Fame. Harry felt like he was being spoiled, and the fact that Sirius was shelling out all the gold for these outings never failed to make Harry feel even worse about the whole situation. He had always been self-sufficient, and on top of everything else that was expected of him, he hated the unspoken insinuation that all he needed to do was stand around and look pretty.

It's almost over, Harry thought to himself, this is the last 'date', then it's back to ridiculous Pomp and Circumstance, then...

He couldn't finish the thought.

Then he would marry his godfather.

It was more than a little confusing to both look forward and dread the same thing so strongly. Harry forced himself to dismiss the thought for the moment, and instead focused his attention on wondering where Sirius would be taking him for their last 'date' together.

At the same time, this query led him to remember the little moments he'd shared with Sirius over the last week—the hand-holding, the chaste kisses, the casual, innocent embraces. It was all beginning to feel familiar, and the more time they spent together like this, the less strange it felt. Sirius was still careful about not pushing Harry too far, and any intimate moments were so brief that they were over before Harry had the chance to overthink it, which was both a blessing and a curse. With Hermione's admonitions still in the back of his mind, he found it harder than usual to hide his anxieties and anger at it all behind his usual neutral mask.

A few hours later, the flare of his Floo connection coming to life drew Harry from his thoughts. Hermione's familiar form tumbled out of the fire, she dressed far more casually than he'd seen her since this whole thing had started in a pair of jeans, a mauve jumper, and a pair of trainers.

“Ready?” She asked stiffly as she straightened up, and Harry offered up a vague shrug in response.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” he replied in the same awkward tone, and she frowned at him. “D'you have any idea where Sirius is taking us this evening?”

“No idea,” she answered at once, “all he told me was to dress casually and muggle, because the place he's taking us will be good to help us unwind, so I'm guessing it's some kind of pub or something.”

“Can't get more casual than that,” Harry said, and at the same moment there was a knock on his door. Hermione gave him a significant look, which Harry ignored as he went to answer it.

Sirius and Andromeda stood on the other side, but even in casual clothes, it was still clear that they came from a moneyed background. From the Hugo Boss leather jacket that Sirius wore over a black V-neck jumper and artfully torn jeans to Andromeda's midnight blue angora jumper and black trousers, it was like the pair had no idea how to 'dress down'. Even the fact that Sirius's jacket was clearly old, weather-worn, and faded did not take away from its casual elegance, and if Sirius's facial expression was any indication—something that fell between a smirk and a smile—he knew how good he looked too.

Sirius stepped forward, his expression softening to a warm smile as he rested his hand just above Harry's hip and leant in for a light kiss in greeting. Though Harry had grown used to this ritual, it still felt a little strange to him, and he could feel his skin tingling with negation at his touch, like salt in an open wound. Harry had a feeling that he knew what may have caused the mental backtrack, and he hoped that his unease didn't show on his face. It wasn't Sirius's fault that this was happening, he knew that, but he hated that his argument with Hermione had seemingly made him revert back to how he had been at the beginning of the courtship.

“Ready to go?” he asked, and Harry nodded his head once as Sirius took his hand. His fingers seemed to tingle as they twined with the older man's, and Harry felt a warm flush creep up his neck.

“Yeah. Where are we off to this time?” Harry's question was met with a small, conspiratorial smile.

“You'll see, I think you'll enjoy this one. C'mon.” He gave Harry's hand a gentle tug and he led him away from his flat and down into the comfortably cool Autumn evening. Sirius let go of Harry's hand and draped an arm around his waist. The contact was met with Andromeda none-too-subtly clearing her throat in their general direction. Sirius's arm quickly moved up to Harry's shoulders.

At the Apparition spot, Sirius lifted his other arm and wrapped it around Harry's shoulders in a close embrace. Harry felt somewhat startled by this sudden shift in physical contact on Sirius's behalf from tentative to handsy in such a short span of time—at least compared to their earlier 'dates', but before he could ask, Harry felt the suffocating pull of Side-Along Apparition envelop him.

They reappeared in the centre of London, not too far from the Thames. Harry looked around as he shook off the aftereffects of Apparition, and he picked out their destination easily. It wasn't exactly difficult to take note of the one building that no muggle paid any mind to, though the name of the place told Harry at once what their evening would entail.

The Duelling Pub

Oh this is going to end well, Harry thought with an amused smirk.

“C'mon,” Sirius said as he took Harry's hand and led him inside, closely followed by Andromeda and Hermione. Harry could hear the distressed lilt of Hermione's voice, but she was too far away for him to clearly discern her words. He'd known her long enough to assume that she was pointing out that combining large amounts of malt beverage with duelling was about as safe as poking Grawp in the eye.

Inside the pub, Harry was surprised to find that it was much more organized than he would have expected. On the left side of the space were several long lanes much like a bowling alley in style, and there seemed to be some sort of charm in place to keep the patrons from flying into the other lanes when they were thrown back by a curse or hex. On the other side were several small round tables and a bar, mostly comprised of drunken duelling enthusiasts cheering their friends on from their seats.

One thing Harry couldn't help but notice was that there were no women in the place. The observers and duellers alike looked on to Hermione and Andromeda with something close to a sneer, and both Harry and Sirius exchanged a grin. It was clear that like Harry, Sirius would pay good money to see some of these sexist gits try and best either one of them.

Harry was itching to get onto the other side and duel Sirius, but with all of the lanes occupied, they reluctantly stepped over to the bar, and Sirius ordered them a round of butterbeer. Harry was grateful for the mild drink—he wanted to be mostly clearheaded this evening.

Hermione and Andromeda took seats at a nearby table, and it wasn't long before one of the arrogant patrons wandered over to them. In between the distance and noise it was difficult to hear what he was saying, but by Hermione's expression, Harry was certain that he'd gotten the gist of it. Following Hermione's nod and taking note of the confident gleam in her eye, Harry jumped when he felt Sirius's breath ghost his cheek as he whispered in his ear.

“Ten galleons says she knocks him out cold in under five minutes.” Harry turned a little to look at him to see if he was serious, and at the smirk that he saw on Sirius's face, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Five minutes? I give him sixty seconds.”

“You're on,” Sirius replied, and they shook on it. Harry turned to watch Hermione get up and follow the large man to the other side of the pub.

Harry sipped on his butterbeer and leant back against the bar to watch his friend. Hermione stepped up to a lane almost directly in the middle of the space, her wand at the ready.

As she and her opponent bowed to one another, Harry jumped a little at a faint tickling sensation against the back of his hand. He looked down, his free hand casually dangling from the bar where he had propped his elbow, and he saw Sirius's fingertips lazily tracing the veins that he found there. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation in the strictest sense, but it still unsettled Harry.

He forced his gaze back to Hermione while he tried to work out Sirius's behaviour so far that evening. He was much more free with his affections than he had been during their previous 'dates', but Harry wasn't certain what had caused the shift. It wasn't like Sirius was overstepping his bounds by any means, but it was definitely further than they'd gone before, at least in terms of intimate touch.

Lost in his haze of thought, he was drawn out of it by a loud groan, and saw the man that had challenged Hermione on the ground, while Hermione looked like she didn't have a scratch on her.

Immediately, one of the man's friends queued up to try to take Hermione on, and Sirius pressed a handful of coins into Harry's hand. He grinned a little as he pocketed it, while Sirius eased back against the bar in a similar position to Harry, while he moved to drape a casual arm across his shoulders. Harry tensed involuntarily, and immediately Sirius began to draw his arm back.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked in a low tone just as Hermione blasted the second challenger across the room.

“No,” Harry answered at once, turning just in time to see relief flood Sirius's worried expression. “You just startled me. This...stuff is still all pretty new to me. I...it's just further than we've gone before, so you caught me off-guard a little.”

“A lot of this is new to me too, Harry,” Sirius replied softly, “we're learning as we go, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I thought it might be best for us to get more used to more intimate touch, now that we're nearing the end of the courtship,” Sirius explained softly, his hand resting against Harry's shoulder, with his thumb lightly brushing against the joint in a soft caress. “If you don't feel that you're ready though, I'll take a step back. Was I...should I have suggested it first?”

“No, no,” Harry said quickly, “you're right that we need to get more comfortable with each other, I just...it's still weird for me.”

Harry felt his face burn, and again his argument with Hermione flared into his mind.

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

“D'you...d'you think that I'm selfish?”

Sirius stared at Harry as though he'd spontaneously grown a second head.

“You're the least selfish person I've ever met, Harry, where is this coming from?”

“Er, well, Hermione and I had an argument the other day about some, er, stuff about the courtship, and she called me selfish...” Harry trailed off as a warm embarrassed flush crept up his neck, and focused on his knees instead of the concerned expression Sirius's grey gaze carried.

“Harry,” Sirius began with a heavy sigh, and he squeezed Harry's shoulders in a gentle half-hug. “I don't fault you for being more resistant to all of this than I am. That's not to say that I'm okay with this, but...your whole life, you've had every mentor or parent figure systematically taken from you one after the other. It'll take you a little longer to feel comfortable with this, so don't let Hermione try to badger you into forcing yourself on my account.” Sirius brushed his lips against Harry's temple, and Harry felt in that moment as though a ten-ton weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He turned, a thank you perched upon his tongue, but at the last moment Harry changed his mind and arched up a little to kiss Sirius lightly.

It was little more than a peck, and was over in a split-second, and it left both men looking rather dazed, Sirius with a smile on his face that bordered on dopey, while Harry's was much more sheepish. Without a word, they resumed watching Hermione duel.

Though Harry had wanted to take to the floor and try duelling Sirius, he was finding that it was much more fun watching Hermione duel practically every man in the place. None of them lasted for more than ten minutes against her, and despite the clear fact that she was a supreme duellist, none of the patrons seemed to be able to accept that a girl could defeat them, only to be proven wrong every time. Sirius kept his arm around Harry while they watched her, and every so often he leant in to offer a comment or two here and there.

Each time, Harry felt his face warm at Sirius's closeness, and he did not miss the way his eyes would drop to Harry's mouth. It was quite clear what Sirius wanted to ask, but each time he seemed to lose his nerve at the last minute, and he would back off. After he leant in for the fifth time, Harry had had enough of the older man's one step forward, one step back actions.

“Sirius, if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask,” Harry said blandly, and laughed when Sirius bowed his head in embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” he replied softly, “ever since that first kiss I've wanted it...wanted you much more, but...You're still my godson, I shouldn't want it.”

“And you're still my godfather,” Harry replied at once, and grimaced. “I just mean...like you said, it's not like we have any choice in the matter,” Harry replied softly, “we just have to make the best of it, or we'll be miserable for the rest of our lives.” He paused, and felt himself flush as he added softly, “er, that is to say, if you want to kiss me...you can.”

Sirius smiled weakly, somewhere between joy and anguish, though Harry couldn't tell which was the stronger emotion at the moment. He drew Harry a little closer, and their lips met.

It was as chaste as every other kiss they'd shared, but it left Harry feeling pleasantly warm all over, and as though someone had released a dozen butterflies in the pit of his stomach. Sirius's hand dropped to the top of Harry's thigh, and immediately Andromeda interrupted them.

“Hands, Sirius,” she said, and the pair turned to see her cocking an eyebrow at him with a clear you-should-know-better-shame-on-you look on her face. Sirius retracted his hand at once, and smiled at Harry apologetically. Harry returned the smile, and felt himself flush an even deeper shade of red, more than anything because of the fact that like with the hand-holding and other forms of contact they'd shared, it no longer felt that strange to him.

Eventually, Harry grew a little tired of just watching Hermione utterly destroy virtually every patron in the place (not begrudging her one ounce for shirking her chaperoning duties) and challenged Sirius. Sirius seemed all too happy to go up against him, and they selected a lane far from Hermione, to keep her from getting too distracted from her slowly shrinking list of challengers—how she wasn't tired yet was anyone's guess.

“Ready, Harry?” Sirius asked as he brandished his wand, and Harry grinned.

“Yeah, you?” his words were met with a similar grin, and they bowed, never taking their eyes off each other.

They duelled.

Both of them more than a little rusty, given that neither of them had really done anything in relation to Defence or duelling following the war. Even so, they shot curses back and forth at lightning speed, both ducking and casting Protection Charms just as quickly. Sirius's Stinging Hex bounced off Harry's Protection Charm and burned an impressive hole in the sign above the duelling area that read:

No Unforgivable Curses, No Slicing Hexes, No Dark Curses. NO exceptions.
-Management

Harry's following Stunning Spell glanced off Sirius's own Protection Charm, and Harry had to duck to avoid his own spell bouncing back at him.

His moment of avoiding his own spell had been his downfall, and before he had fully stood up and got his bearings some sort of hex hit him in in the chest, and with a grunt Harry found himself thrown backward about two feet and into the wall.

The walls had been lined with some sort of cushioning charm, and Harry bounced off it harmlessly before he slid down to land in a heap. Grinning, Sirius crossed the space and helped Harry to his feet.

“You all right, Harry?” Sirius asked, and at the same moment Harry wobbled a little, and Sirius wrapped an arm around him to steady him.

“Yeah, fine,” Harry replied with a short shake of his head, “I just stood up too fast.”

Even so, Sirius kept his arm around Harry as he led him back to their seats at the bar, and ordered him a glass of water, which he sipped as the dizziness began to recede.

“Okay,” Harry said a minute later as he set down the empty glass, “now can I have a butterbeer?”

Chortling, Sirius flagged down the barman.

Two hours later, they finally decided to call it a night—when Hermione was simply too tired, both physically and magically, to accept any more challengers. Harry had to admit that for once he didn't particularly mind playing the part of spectator—it had been great fun watching Hermione take every man in the place down a peg or two.

Sirius walked with Harry ahead of Andromeda and Hermione, his fingers twisted casually with Harry's. Harry found himself not minding the contact—it was beginning to feel comfortable and familiar, rather than strange. In fact, Harry found himself beginning to enjoy it, which took him by surprise.

“Well,” Harry said as they Apparated back to his flat, and Sirius escorted him to the doors of the building. “Thanks for a great evening, I mean it. I had a really good time.”

Sirius kissed him, and Harry found himself returning it readily. Like with the other kisses they'd shared up to that point, it was over almost as soon as it had begun, but it was still enough to make Harry feel very warm.

“Well, I'll see you soon, Harry,” Sirius said, his voice a little rough, the tone enough to bring a flush to Harry's cheeks. Sirius chuckled and kissed him again, then stepped down to join Andromeda, while Hermione moved to join Harry. The pair watched the older witch and wizard step over to the Apparition spot, where they Disapparated.

Harry and Hermione walked up to his flat in silence. After Harry closed the door behind her, he finally spoke.

“Hermione?” She met his gaze, her expression wary. “I'm sorry for what I said the other day. You were...well, you were right, and I should've listened to you.”

His apology was met with a watery smile, and she closed the distance between them to hug Harry tightly.

“I know, Harry, it's all right.”

Smiling, Harry hugged her back.

1^st October, 2004

Harry woke late that Friday, and it was well into the afternoon by the time he'd properly gotten up, showered, dressed, and tucked into his breakfast. With all the excitement over the last few weeks, Harry felt as though he was beginning to run out of steam. Despite what the end of the courtship would bring, Harry found that he was looking forward to it—if nothing else so that he could finally have some proper peace and quiet.

Harry's musings were interrupted by a sharp tap, tap, tap against his window, and he looked up to see Sirius's owl there.

The last gift.

Caught between apprehension and curiosity, Harry got up and let the creature in. He dropped a large square package on the table with a heavy thunk, then took off just as quickly.

Harry stepped back over to the dining table after he'd latched the window, picked up the envelope affixed to the top of it, and tore it open.

Harry,

The last gift is meant to show fidelity and trust. Meaning, I will be faithful to you and not stray, and trust you to do the same. The gift is also designed to show the Intended that they will not lose themselves when this courtship is over—they will still have their own life, their privacy, they will not merely become 'the spouse'.

I hope you like it,

Sirius

Harry's face burned a little at the implication of them as a couple that rang through the letter, and he set it aside to focus his attention on the package. It was heavy—much heavier than any of the other gifts had been. After a moment, he tore away the brown paper in one sharp movement.

Inside, Harry found a wooden box.

It was highly polished oak, inset with shining blue stones that Harry recognized as pieces of Lapis Lazuli, and when he opened it, he found it to be lined with some sort of strange black velvet. Inside, he also found another letter.

Harry—

This is a mokebox. Whatever you put in here will be completely invisible to anyone but you. It also has an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, and so it can also hold a huge amount of items.

The magic is in the mokeskin lining, and the box itself is keyed only to you. Even Albus Dumbledore wouldn't be able to get into this thing and take its contents out.

Sirius

Harry closed the box and stared at it a while longer. His fingers brushed over the sleek finish, smiling idly to himself as he looked it over. Then, he lifted the thing up, transported it to his bedroom, and set it down on the empty side of his writing desk. He gathered together some of his completed scrolls for his writing project, then tucked them into the box, and watched with fascination as they disappeared before his eyes. When he reached back in however, they reappeared at once.

Harry's smile remained upon his face as he stacked the rest of his finished scrolls into the box and closed it with a sharp click.

There was something oddly final in that small action, and Harry regarded the box for a moment longer before he turned and went to the fire to call Hermione.
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Patria Potestas: Blood Ties