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Patria Potestas: Entr'acte	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Sirius Views: 4032 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 1-Patria Potestas: Entr'acte
- 1
A/N: I've had a handful of people request to see the story from Sirius's POV, and I struggled to work out a way for you guys to see it without it feeling like you were simply rereading the same story. What I came up with is kind of a series of flashbacks, which I hope doesn't feel too jumbled or rushed to you guys. Please make sure you read Patria Potestas: Blood Ties first, otherwise this fic won't make tons of sense.

Note: As some of you know, I had a breakdown due to overwork recently, and this fic was the one that paid the price. Though I'm back to sort of working on it, I'm leaving up the hiatus note, because I'm still not 100%, and I don't want to make promises that I might not be able to keep as to when the next part of this series will be up. Until then, I hope that you guys will enjoy this little bit of intermission-style fluff.
Patria Potestas: Entr'acte

9^th April, 2005

Sirius woke in a drowsy haze.
The darkness of the sky, the soft trill of songbirds waking up and greeting the morning, as well as the distant rustle of all the life of the forest coming alive just beyond their doors seemed almost symbolic of their new life together.
Sirius paused in his half-asleep observations.

Their.

He, was once more, we.
With his mind slowly catching up and recalling all that had happened, Sirius had very nearly forgotten about the body curled peacefully in his arms.
At some point during the night, Harry had rolled over and his face was now buried in Sirius's chest. His cheek was pressed to the right side, and his gentle puffs of breath tickled Sirius's exposed skin pleasantly.
In sleep, Sirius was amazed at how different Harry looked.
He reached out and ran his fingers through that perpetually messy hair, and the gentle touch earned him a contented sigh before Harry tried to snuggle closer to him. Sirius smiled; in that moment, Harry's conscience was clearly not in control, and the lines of stress, the near-constant panicked or uneasy looks that usually filled his features was absent, and the look of peace that Sirius saw there instead warmed his heart.
You've been through so much, Sirius thought, I hope I can make you happy, Harry... The hopeful thought brought a smile to his face, and Sirius relaxed, content to watch Harry in sleep, while being careful to keep still and avoid rousing him.

As Sirius stared down at Harry, many thoughts danced through his head—a blur of images as he relived the last eight months in a matter of seconds.
Harry was his godson, nothing could change that.
But now, he was also his husband.
How strange that the thought did not distress him like it once had.
A small smile came unbidden to Sirius's lips as he recalled that fateful, previous summer. He hadn't exactly reacted well to the news that old bloodline magic was forcing him into a pseudo-incestuous relationship with his godson—but Harry wasn't to know that.
He had enough to worry about without Sirius making it any worse.

~*~

“Sirius Orion Black, shame on you!” Andromeda all but shrieked as she entered his dingy flat and caught him with a fifth of Ogden's that had been full that morning, and now only contained about half of its original contents. “I went to St Mungo's to check on you, to have Hermione tell me that you've checked yourself out and now I find you here drowning yourself in whisky! For shame, what age are you, twenty or forty?”
“Shame on me what?” Sirius slurred as he turned to glare at his cousin, “I haven't done nothing bad—yet. Tha's all to come. This fucking bloodline magic is demanding I bed my godson. Now that's what you should be shaming me for.” He slammed his glass down. “I can't do it. It's so, so bad. Even if it weren't practically pedophilic, what would a kid want with an old fart like me? I'm all bad, Andromeda. Stupid old Sirius Black, can't hold on to anything good. Everything dies. Hell, even Harry almost fucking died. I can't be what he needs. He needs to find someone else.”
“Are you quite finished?” she demanded while she snatched the bottle away from him, and ignored his indignant cry as she promptly tossed it into the fire, making it flare brightly for a moment before it calmed again, only slightly singing his ancient rug. “Harry needs you, and you can't help him if you're dead drunk. Hermione is doing all that she can to help Harry through this, but you know what will be expected of yourself and of Harry throughout all this. Furthermore, he is not a child; he is twenty-five years old. The situation isn't ideal for anyone, but if you fall apart, it will be even harder for Harry to cope with everything. You need to be the adult here, and you need to help him, Sirius.”
“Didn't you hear me?” Sirius demanded, “I can't help him. I can't take care of people; every time I tried to I lost them—one way or another. We just need to find someone else for Harry, I can't be what he needs and you know it.”
“The bloodline magic has fixed on you, Sirius,” Andromeda said firmly, “you know better than anyone what that means. Your fate, as well as Harry's, is sealed. You can do this—and you will.”

~*~

“It's done,” Sirius said in a soft, dull tone as he stepped into Andromeda's house, “the Rite of Intent is complete.” He shut the door softly behind him to keep from accidentally waking Teddy, and his cousin looked up from her paperback, her expression unreadable.
“And how do you feel about it?” she asked at last.
“Like I've stolen Harry's life from him.”

~*~

“Hermione, be serious, why would Harry want, much less need a bunch of writing materials?” Sirius asked dubiously. “He never struck me as the type to want to do homework. I always gathered that that was your thing.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” she said sarcastically, “I told you, he's doing a writing project. I don't want to say too much, it's pretty private, but it's helping him work through all the stuff that happened during the war. Parchment and inks and quills and things would definitely be a useful gift.”
“If it weren't for your track record as being an incredibly talented and clever young woman, I would never take you up on that suggestion...” Sirius muttered, though he still found it hard to believe that Harry would find such a thing useful in the slightest. The mention of the project did pique his curiosity however, but the Gatekeeper look that resided upon Hermione's face gave Sirius the impression that it might be better to not ask.
“He'll appreciate it,” she said reassuringly, “trust me.”

~*~

“Sirius, if you had been any more stiff today, a strong gust of wind would have knocked you over,” Andromeda remarked as they stopped in at her house for tea and biscuits after the First Meeting.
“Oh yes, because it's just so relaxing, going on a bleeding date with my godson, of all people,” Sirius sniped as he accepted the tea and looked down into the cup's contents. “He looked so...scared. Like I was going to attack him or something.”
“Which is why I have told you time and time again that you will need to be strong for him,” Andromeda replied patiently. “He was raised as a muggle, he doesn't understand these customs nearly as well as we do. You will need to be his strength if you want to have any hope of getting through this in one piece.” She paused and sipped her tea, “have you thought about what you want to do for the second gift?”
At this, Sirius smiled.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said, and Andromeda cocked an eyebrow, silently inviting him to continue. “Do you remember that old shoe box that I have of all those old letters from James, Lily, and Dorea?” Andromeda nodded, and Sirius continued, “well, I thought I'd make a sort of scrapbook for Harry using those.”
“What about some letters from Remus as well?” Andromeda asked, “he was almost as close to Remus as he was to you, after all, and Teddy is his godson, I'd think he'd like that.”
Sirius shook his head mutely, his throat having closed up. Even after all this time, it was still difficult for Sirius to let go of Remus, and Sirius wasn't quite ready to give up his mementos of him just yet. Andromeda seemed to understand his silence however, and nodded.
“I did see a rather nice scrapbook at Dervish and Banges the last time I was in...”

~*~

Sirius tossed down the newspaper with a scowl, and suddenly the howler scorch marks on his rickety old table made much more sense.
Being woken up at the crack of dawn by a number of different voices shrieking insults at him had not been high on his list of favourite activities, and even after two hours of sorting through the letters that were simply nasty reactions to the article, and those that had been cursed, he still felt incredibly groggy, as though he had just woken up.
If I ever see Rita Skeeter again, I really will be the murderer they all think that I am... Sirius thought mutinously while he levitated the pile of letters and banished them to the fireplace.

~*~

Sirius could still taste Harry on his lips when he had gotten home.
The worst part was, like a click of the fingers in his mind, he very much wanted to do it again.
Sirius buried his face in his hands with a soft groan of frustration, because it was quite clear that Harry did not feel the same way.
“Give him some time, Sirius,” Andromeda said gently, picking up on his train of thought alarmingly quickly, “he's only twenty-five, after all, and this is all very new to him.”
“I wonder why that isn't making me feel any better?” he muttered sarcastically. The comment earned him a glare, which he ignored. “None of this is right, but...it's like now that I've tasted it, all I want is...more.”
Andromeda smiled, but she did not offer up any sort of response. Sirius's gaze drifted to his sitting room window while Andromeda wandered into his kitchen and went about preparing tea for the two of them.

~*~

A knock sounded from the door of his flat, and the moment he cried, “come in!” Andromeda stepped inside, and shut the door behind her.
“What's the matter, Sirius?” she asked without preamble, “I got a frantic owl not an hour ago pleading for me to pop by. Is everything all right?”
“It's this bloody Third Gift,” he replied, his tone laced with frustration, and pointed to the mess on his kitchen table. “easy to assemble my arse. I've been wrestling with this damn thing for close to an hour.”
Andromeda shifted her gaze to the table, and she tittered with amusement. Pebbles and soil was everywhere, the glass case was in pieces, and the Serenity Orchid that Sirius had selected was already starting to droop.
“You probably should have asked for my help before you tried doing it yourself, Sirius,” she said while she strode forward, picked up the panes of glass, and reassembled the case with relative ease, which only aided in deepening Sirius's scowl, “you were never the best Herbology student.”
“I just wanted to do it myself,” Sirius explained, “but at the risk of Harry's gift dying on me...” he trailed off when Andromeda laughed as she levitated the pebbles into the case, followed by half the soil, then switched to using her hands to extract the orchid from its tiny pot. She ripped off the bottom half of the roots, apparently unconcerned with getting herself dirty, while she gazed around the mess.
“Where is the fungus?”
“What?” Sirius asked, and blinked in confusion when she frowned.
“There should have been a small packet of minced fungus included with the orchid,” Andromeda explained, “do you still have it?”
“Yes, er...” Sirius paused as he sifted through the wrappings, and extracted what looked like a small seed packet. He handed it to her, and she promptly ripped it open and tipped its contents into the soil. It was barely more than a pinch, and rather resembled tiny white pebbles.
Andromeda gently settled the orchid into the case, and used her wand to gently disperse the remaining soil before she cast the necessary charms and sealed it up. It had barely been in the BioCase for thirty seconds before it began to perk up, and Sirius felt his shoulders sag with relief. Crises averted.
While his cousin went to wash her hands, Sirius went about wrapping the gift and scribbling down a note to Harry explaining what it was. Andromeda reappeared just as Sirius was sending off his owl with it.
“I'm just curious,” Andromeda began, “why did you choose a Serenity Orchid for Harry's third gift?”
Sirius slouched over to his table and summoned his brandy and a few glasses with a lazy flick of his wand, and poured both himself and Andromeda a healthy measure before he began to speak. He stared off into space, sipping the warming drink while he pondered how to best answer the question.
“Harry's been so stressed by this courtship,” Sirius explained, his tone soft, “everything that's been demanded of him has been more than he's ready to take, but he still does it without complaint—well, without much complaint. I just wanted something that might grant him a little peace of mind. I don't like how scared he is of...this, and of me.”
“You really do love him, don't you?” Andromeda asked, and Sirius tugged absently at the collar of his robes when a flush of heat rushed through him.
“I don't know if it's love,” Sirius replied, not quite able to meet Andromeda's eye, “but it's pretty close.”

~*~

“Have you given any thought to where you plan to take Harry on your dates?”
Sirius grimaced at Andromeda.
“Please do not call them that,” Sirius muttered, “it's exhausting enough being the grown up in all of this without having to consider the fact that I have to go on four bleeding dates with my godson.”
“It sounds like someone has changed their tune,” she remarked with an arched brow, “you were practically ecstatic about everything not too long ago.”
“It's a bit difficult to look forward to seeing someone who is dreading seeing you,” Sirius replied sullenly while he slammed down the Everywizard's Guide to London travel guide that he had been flipping through on the table. “And I have to be so careful around him—I don't want to scare him, or push him too far, and we're not even close to being finished with all this courtship nonsense yet and I already feel burnt out.”
Andromeda levelled her gaze with Sirius, her lips pressed into a thin line. She did not speak, but instead pushed the plate of biscuits across the table towards him.
“Have a biscuit,” she said simply, and though the words would imply an offer, Sirius had a feeling that it was less of an invitation, and more of a direct order.
He obediently picked up a jammie dodger off the plate, and bit into it. While he chewed, Andromeda began to speak. Her to-the-point, matter-of-fact tone was so highly reminiscent of Minerva McGonagall that Sirius felt a minor chill run through him.
“I do not know how many times I have told you this,” she began, a note of impatience in her voice, “but maybe this time you will hear what I have to say, and actually remember it.” Andromeda crossed her arms and glared at him. “Harry is twenty-five years old, but emotionally, he may as well be fifteen. He did not have the same chances as us to experiment in his youth, and as a result all of this is all very new to him—he doesn't know how to react. He's always been stubborn, and he's digging his heels in, so to speak, resisting all this not because he does not care for you, but because you are the only true family that he has ever had. This magic is demanding that he tear down everything he has known you as, and see you, someone twice his age, mind you, as a lover, and not a father figure anymore. Can you really blame him for being so resistant?” Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Andromeda continued on before he could get a word in.
“You can't completely understand this because you do not have the same feelings towards family that Harry does,” Andromeda said evenly, “you lost your immediate family, yes, as did Harry, but under very different circumstances. Harry holds on with a vice grip to any family that he has, because so much of it has slipped through his fingers over the years. He doesn't hate you, Sirius; he hates what he has to give up in order to spare himself as well as you the pain of losing your magic to this curse.”
Sirius had nothing to say to that, and hung his head guiltily. A hand rested over his, and offered it a gentle squeeze. When Sirius next looked up, Andromeda's face had lost its stern look, and she was smiling softly.
“He cares for you, Sirius, and he will get there. Just be patient with him,” she said gently, and he forced a smile as he nodded his head.
“I'll try.”

~*~

“Sirius, it's strange,” Andromeda said as they stepped into the house, and she took to the usual task of preparing the tea that they always shared following one of the courtship's requirements.
“What's strange?” Sirius asked as he drew off his leather jacket and hung it up, then joined her in the kitchen, where he proceeded to pull a box of biscuits from the cabinet as she tended to the kettle and mugs.
“I have never in my life seen someone at their happiest and most miserable simultaneously,” she replied while she tapped the kettle, bringing it to an instant boil, and she poured the hot water over the tea leaves. “Harry is being much more receptive,” she continued, “and he no longer looks like he feels like he's set to wed a swamp troll, so why are you so distressed?”
“Because I want him,” Sirius said simply, and he looked away from Andromeda as he felt shame momentarily overwhelm him. “Every day that goes by, I'm—I'm looking forward to...” he cut himself off and frowned. “But then I remember—for God's sake, he's my godson!—it just feels so wrong. I shouldn't want this, want him, but...I do.” Sirius paused, a lump settling in his throat, and he swallowed thickly in an effort to calm himself, though it didn't help very much. “And the part where we say goodbye? It's getting harder.”
Andromeda did not speak until they'd transported their teatime spread to the sitting room. She pressed a mug into Sirius's hands, took a fortifying sip from hers, and levelled her gaze with her cousin.
“You love him.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, I do,” Sirius replied, and he hated how he felt like an embarrassed third year with a crush as he said it.
“Then leave it at that. Don't overthink it—just allow yourself to feel,” Andromeda said simply, and Sirius frowned.
“But—” he began, but Andromeda held up a hand, and Sirius fell silent.
“Because of Potestas, you and Harry must completely redefine your relationship,” Andromeda said patiently, “you love him—I can see it—but what does this guilt serve, other than making you both miserable? Nothing can be done to reverse this, so why torture yourself? Just allow yourself to love him.”
“But he doesn't love me,” Sirius replied, and struggled to keep the misery at that fact from his voice. “He doesn't need to say it, I can tell.”
“He cares for you,” Andromeda said simply. “Let that be enough for now. He doesn't hate you, and in time he may learn to love you.”
Though Sirius had his doubts, he knew better than to voice them. He sipped his tea as he thought on the scant handful of weeks to come. The courtship itself was almost over, and it was strange how Sirius found himself actually disappointed by that fact. There was something deeply enjoyable about organizing these events for Harry—just for Harry.
As time went on, the more he began to look forward to their outings, not necessarily for the planned activities themselves, but simply to see Harry's face light up when he saw where they were going on that particular day. The Duelling Pub had been brilliant for this, watching Harry play spectator to Hermione, then later their own duel—the memory of it brought a smile to Sirius's face.
He could not help but wish that Harry felt the same, and he felt a swell of guilt at the idea of Harry trying to force his feelings on Sirius's behalf. That did not sit well with him, and if anything, made him feel even worse about the whole situation.
“Give it time,” Andromeda repeated, her voice cutting through his musings easily, and he refocused his gaze on her. “As I have said, be patient with him, Sirius. If he feels that you're disappointed that he does not share your feelings, that will do nothing but make him feel guilty. Is that what you really want?”
“No,” Sirius replied at once, his voice just barely above a low mumble, “I just hate this making do feeling...I never thought I'd be one of those people stuck in a loveless marriage.”
Andromeda smiled sadly, but did not answer.

~*~

“He wants to see me,” Sirius said, and Andromeda smiled at him.
“Yes, I heard.”
“He—he actually asked me if I would see him before the negotiations,” he repeated, and raked a hand through his hair. “God, I sound like a fifteen-year-old with a crush, but...”
“I'm happy for you, Sirius, I really am,” Andromeda said, and Sirius frowned. He could practically hear the but in her voice.
“But...?” he prompted, and she frowned at him.
“But don't expect too much. Hermione and I have talked a fair few times over the course of this courtship, and it seems as though Harry's taking everything in stride—almost a little too well, as she puts it. I have a feeling that the negotiations might push him over the edge. From what I gather, Hermione has tried to explain to him how male pregnancies work a few times, and he doesn't want to hear it.”
“So you're saying that he'll be in for a bit of a shock on the twenty-second?”
“That would be putting it very lightly, but essentially, yes.”

~*~

Sirius stared wide-eyed at the deserted front garden of the Burrow. One hand had jumped to his hair, while Hermione and Andromeda bracketed him, both of them mirroring his expression of shock at Harry's abrupt exit.
“Oh dear,” Hermione said with a soft moan of distress, “I was afraid that this would happen...”
“So much for progress,” Sirius said, while he strove to ignore the aching, heartbroken feeling that was settling into the pit of his stomach.
“Sirius, Harry cares for you, I know that he does,” Hermione said, a note of desperation in her tone, “he's just...overwhelmed. It is a lot to ask of him.”
“I'm not—” Sirius began hotly, but Andromeda cut him off.
“We know, Sirius,” she said with a bite of impatience in her voice, “we know it's the curse and not you. Regardless, it is still a lot to ask of one person, especially someone like Harry.”
“What do you mean, especially someone like Harry?” Sirius asked, and glanced from Hermione to Andromeda and back again. For some reason, both women looked highly annoyed with him.
“Sirius, think,” Hermione said impatiently, “Harry has always been self-reliant, and he's used to doing things for himself, by himself. Beyond all the physical stuff , he'd be more or less totally dependent on you for a huge stretch of time. For him that has to be devastating.”
“The concept probably feels very emasculating to him,” Andromeda filled in, “more than the idea of bearing a child, the thought of completely depending on someone for practically everything for nine to ten months will likely be denting his ego, or making him feel like he can't take care of himself.”
“I hadn't thought about it that way,” Sirius said, and slumped back against the door's frame. “Things were going so well—or, at least, it seemed like they were—and now...what if Harry can't do this?”
“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Andromeda said reasonably, “for right now, let's give Harry a little time to digest everything before we overwhelm him again.”
Though Sirius's first instinct was not to take a step back, but to rush after Harry and make sure that he was all right, he forced himself to nod sullenly. He followed Hermione and Andromeda back into the house, and prayed that somehow, he could help Harry get through this.

~*~

Sirius stared at Archimedes as he stroked his feathers, the cranky old thing snapping at his fingers any time he got too close to his head, clearly frustrated that he had once more failed to deliver his post to Harry.
“He hates me,” Sirius said with a huff as he threw down the unopened scroll next to the four others on the writing desk.
“He doesn't hate you, Sirius,” Andromeda said as she regarded him over the top of her cup of tea. “He's just scared. He needs time to absorb everything. Think: he did not know that this was even possible until very recently. You need to be patient with—”
“—but I have been patient with him,” Sirius protested, and winced when his voice cracked a little. “Hell, I've done everything I can to make this as painless as possible for him, and still...”
“And still he rejects you,” Andromeda finished for him, and Sirius nodded. To his surprise, Andromeda did not offer him sympathies or condolences for his predicament, but instead frowned at him as though he'd done something horrid.
“Sirius, I know that it's difficult, but I need you to think with your head, and not your heart,” she said firmly, “I can see that your love for Harry has grown and changed, and so has his, but not at the speed you would like.”
“That's putting it mildly,” Sirius interjected, and Andromeda scowled at him.
“I know that I have told you this before,” she continued, “but I believe that it bears repeating: you need to remember that though Harry is twenty-five years old, emotionally, he still has a lot of growing to do. You know better than anyone that Harry had to grow up quickly; his childhood, from what I have heard, was awful, and he has had next to no personal relationships in his adolescent and adult life. This is all very new to him. He doesn't know himself yet, he doesn't know how to respond to these situations, and above all, he still sees you as a father figure—a father he's never had, and now, never will. He just needs time to come to terms with everything.” Andromeda paused, and sipped her tea. “He'll come round, it will just take some time for his head to catch up with his heart—we can all see how he feels about you, it's just that he doesn't really know how to articulate it. Be fair; Harry, for all his strengths, has never been good with sharing his feelings. It's a quirk he picked up from Ron, I think.”
Sirius snorted a little at Andromeda's latter comment, and at the same moment, her Floo connection flared to life, and Hermione's head materialized in the grate.
“Andromeda?” she called, “is Sirius with you? I tried his flat but I didn't get any response.”
“He's here,” Andromeda confirmed, “come on through.”
In an instant, Hermione tumbled onto the hearth, and she jumped to her feet, not even bothering to brush herself off before she turned to Sirius.
“Harry's warded himself into his flat. I can break the charms, there's no worry about that, but I think it might be a good idea for you to come with me, Sirius.”
“If he's warded his flat, clearly the last person he wants to see is me,” Sirius grumbled as he crossed his arms.
“You and Harry, I swear, you're a match made in heaven,” Hermione said with an irritated huff, to which Sirius's gaze shot up in surprise. “You both are such ridiculous drama queens. My God, one argument isn't some sort of world-ending crisis. Have you any idea how much Ron and I bicker? If I had a galleon for every argument we've had, I'd be rich.” She paused to take a breath, but her disapproving expression did not waver.
“We all know that he cares about you, Sirius, he's just scared,” she said softly, while she regarded him with a sad smile. “I've seen him when he's with you and gets anxious. When you hold his hand, or you kiss him, or anything...he immediately calms down. He trusts you and he loves you—he just doesn't know it yet. I think you being there will help get him out of his cave, so to speak. Will you come with me?”
Hermione spoke in a rush, and it took Sirius a moment to completely digest everything that she had said. He knew that she wasn't lying, and Sirius also knew that she would never do anything to deliberately hurt Harry. He doubted that his presence would actually make things easier, but despite his reservations, he nodded as he got up to follow her outside and Disapparate.

~*~

“Sirius, I don't understand,” Andromeda said as she pressed her fingers against her temples, then looked down at the stack of paperwork and photographs on the table again. “You said you've found the perfect house, then why are you insisting we see four more prior to it?”
“It's a strategy, Andromeda,” he said simply, “look: Harry's been fighting tooth and nail against everything related to this courtship since it began, so he'll probably just reject it outright if we go straight there. Seeing these others will wear him down first, then when we get to the Hogsmeade one, he'll love it.”
“It just seems a bit silly to me to go through all that...” she said with a shake of her head, but Sirius didn't back down.
“No, it'll work, trust me.”
“All right,” Andromeda replied with a heavy sigh, and rolled her eyes. “It's your money, but this is one of the silliest financial stunts you have pulled...”
“Have you already forgotten the time that James and I visited the Chocolate Frogs factory and bought those enormous bags of defective chocolates?”
“Sixty galleons worth of chocolate, how could I forget?” she asked rhetorically and sarcastically, “I still haven't figured out how none of you got sick from practically living off chocolate for a fortnight...”

~*~

In the weeks to come, Sirius felt like he was in some sort of whirlwind vortex. This had little to do with the planning and organizing of decorating the new house, or picking out a place for the ceremony, and more to do with himself and Harry.
He could practically taste the young man's mounting fear as the date drew closer, which Sirius struggled to not take personally. This would be a big, irreversible step for both of them, and while Sirius found himself looking forward to it, and even fantasizing about the consummation, he knew that Harry's feelings towards it were far from warm and fuzzy.

Spring had come early that year, a good omen, as far as Sirius was concerned, and though it was just barely past the middle of March, the beach was warm, if a little blustery, and they did not need anything heavier than a thin jumper to keep warm.
Harry rested in his arms, his cheek pressed against Sirius's shoulder, and he had fallen asleep, clearly worn out by all the stresses the courtship had demanded of him. Sirius held him gently, and felt almost incapable of keeping his hands off his young fiancé.
He rubbed Harry's back, he stroked his hair, he massaged the back of his neck, and each touch sent a thrill of excitement through Sirius that had very little to do with sexual desire. He found himself once more looking towards a bright future, and as Harry let out a soft, contented sigh and curled up closer to him, Sirius hoped that perhaps one day, Harry would find happiness with him.
No matter how long that was, Sirius knew now that he could wait.

~*~

Harry shifted, and the small movement drew Sirius from his memories.
It still amazed him how far they had come in such a short span of time, and he watched silently as Harry muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and pressed himself closer to Sirius. He bowed forward like a bird dipping its head under its wing, and once again he fell into a deep sleep.
Sirius swallowed a laugh at the sight, and pulled the blanket up higher when he caught sight of Harry's minute shiver.
I wonder what kind of life we will have...Sirius wondered, chancing a light kiss to the top of Harry's head as the thought crossed his mind. His head was filled with images of what might come in the days, months, and years to come—of quiet winter nights by the fire; summer days wandering through Hogsmeade; visiting with Teddy and Andromeda; Christmases in their own home instead of at the Burrow...
Sirius jerked his head in a small shake as he felt a swell of longing fill him. A longing he couldn't share with Harry—not yet.

The idea of children.

His own flesh and blood, Blacks that wouldn't be raised under the tyrannical rule of a half-mad blood purist who encouraged her kids to join an equally mad Dark Lord and his xenophobic regime. Blacks that would be sorted into Gryffindor, Blacks that learned what love was from their parents, and not the family of their best friend.
When Sirius looked down at Harry, he felt a resurgence of anguish. He'd waited so long that he had almost given up on the idea of having children of his own. But now, he found a chance for it, and was just beyond his grasp.
How interesting that such a thought could fill him so evenly with both hope and misery at the same time.
I know I promised Harry that we would wait until he was ready, Sirius thought, but I don't know if I'll be able to wait that long. I don't want to push him, but, God, I want it so much.
Sirius glanced back down at his young husband, and he felt guilt replace the misery.
I can't think like that, he thought fiercely, Harry needs time, that's what everyone has said.
But I want it—I want him.
It amazed Sirius how much he wanted of Harry.
Sirius was no saint, especially in his formative years, but he had never fancied himself as an overly selfish or greedy man. With Harry however, he found himself wanting it all. He wanted a life with Harry, he wanted a family with Harry, and he wanted Harry to love him back.
But most of all, he simply wanted Harry.
The night before had been a revelation, and Sirius was still amazed at how receptive Harry had been, and the key words that hinted at a possible turning of the tide rang through his mind like church bells.
“When we do this, I want to see you. I—I don't want to hide from this anymore.”
The endearing, stammering confession had almost been enough to make Sirius weep. More than anything, it gave Sirius hope that, in time, Harry might want him as much he wanted Harry.
And maybe next time he won't flinch away from me...maybe he'll even approach me.
At this, Sirius almost laughed. It would probably be a very long time indeed before Harry would feel confident enough to do such a thing.
But until that day...oh Harry, the things I could make you feel...
Sirius immediately shook himself from the train of thought. He didn't want to alarm Harry by making him think that he would want to shag all the time (though the idea wasn't too repulsive, either) by waking up to Sirius's erection pressing into his thigh.
Sirius would have been more than happy to lie there and watch Harry sleep, but most unfortunately his bladder was now insisting that he get up. With careful movements, he pulled reluctantly away from Harry, and watched him for a moment longer before he padded silently to the wardrobe and drew out a pair of pyjama bottoms, his dressing gown, and slippers, and pulled them on before he headed to the toilet and relieved himself. After finishing his business there, he washed his hands and moved on to the kitchen to see about tackling his next challenge: making breakfast.

~*~

Given the way that Sirius had grown up, he was not a great cook.
In fact, more than once after he had gotten a little flat of his own, it was not just Dorea Potter who appeared convinced that he would starve to death on his own, but his best friends as well. His own culinary experiments James and Remus wouldn't touch with a ten-foot wand, and only agreed to come visit him if he promised to get takeaway.
Twelve years in Azkaban had left little time for him to improve his culinary skills, but thankfully, Molly's food packages included some breakfast fare, so that all he needed to concern himself with was preparing tea, given that he wasn't certain where his coffee filters had wandered off to in the mess of the half-unpacked boxes and mountains of wedding gifts.
Sirius loaded a breakfast tray with fruit, pastries, the two cups, and sugar and milk for heathens like Harry who defiled their tea in such a sacrilegious manner. Confident that he hadn't forgotten anything, Sirius then picked up the tray and carefully transported it back to the bedroom.

When Sirius crossed the threshold, he wobbled dangerously when his foot landed on something small and hard, which caused some of the tea to slosh over the lip of the cups and pool in centre of the saucers
Luckily he managed to catch himself before he fell, and Sirius looked down curiously as he lifted his foot to see a shiny brown stone on the floor.
After he set the tray of food and drink down on the night table, he retreated back to pick the thing up, turning the stone over in his fingers curiously just as Harry began to stir. The sight of his husband waking up drew his attention from the stone in his hand, and he looked over to Harry with a small smile.
Sirius watched as Harry let out a soft groan as he began to wake, and Harry's eyelids fluttered for a moment before they slid open.
Harry blinked a few times, a bemused expression on his face, as though he could not remember where he was, or what had happened. Sirius watched as it seemed to all came flooding back at once; Harry's eyes widened, and he turned an attractive shade of red.
Doing his best to swallow a laugh at Harry's endearing, bashful reaction, Sirius sat on the edge of the bed closest to his husband, picked up Harry's glasses off the night table, and handed them to him. Sirius waited for Harry to accept them and pull them on before Sirius leant in and kissed him lightly.
“Morning,” Sirius murmured, unable to completely stifle a small smile as he said it.
“Morning,” Harry replied a little groggily, and Sirius was surprised at how Harry did not stammer as he said it. There was still a distinctive quiver to his voice, but he was much less flustered and embarrassed than Sirius would have expected him to be, though he chalked that up mostly to the fact that Harry probably wasn't properly awake yet. “What time is it?”
“It's barely ten,” Sirius replied as he discarded his dressing gown and got back under the covers with Harry, and reached for the tray. He did not miss the nervous look in Harry's eye when he had joined him in bed, but forced his disappointment at the reaction behind a neutral smile. “Here, breakfast.”
“Well, considering it looks edible, I'll assume you didn't cook,” Harry said as he sat up, the blanket pooling at his hips. He went red again, clearly aware of his nakedness next to Sirius, and he handed over the dressing down he had been wearing without comment. Harry accepted it gladly and pulled it on as Sirius responded to his comment.
“Very funny. Tokens from one of Molly's packages. I'm pretty sure there's enough food in our kitchen to last us for the next six months or so,” Sirius said while Harry reached for one of the cruellers and split it in half. “I also found this on the floor,” Sirius added as he held up the stone, “does it look familiar to you?”
Harry flushed again, but this time Sirius could not work out what had sparked the embarrassment.
“It's mine,” Harry said while he prepared his tea and took a small sip, the pastry apparently forgotten. “Hermione gave it to me before the ceremony yesterday. Sort of a luck charm-thing. She called it a-a...sardonic, I think?”
“Sardonyx,” Sirius corrected at once, the name clicking in his mind as he gazed from Harry to the stone and back again.
“Right, that,” Harry replied, and sipped his tea again. “She said it symbolized marital...bliss or something,” Harry went red again at the implication of them as a married couple, and Sirius struggled once more with his disappointment—he'd rather hoped that once the deed had been done some of Harry's embarrassment towards the concept of them as a couple would have faded, but clearly it was a bit too soon for that. In an effort to push past the rejected feeling, he focused instead on what Harry had just said.

Or something, indeed.

Sirius smiled warmly as he set down the stone on the tray, and Harry snatched it up at once. In that moment, he found himself deeply grateful that Harry had someone like Hermione in his life. It did indeed symbolize love and marriage, but it was also considered a healing crystal that could help with feelings of helplessness and victim mentality, help to lift depression, and could encourage action over constant contemplation.
As Sirius mulled over whether or not he should tell Harry that, he watched the young man tuck in to his breakfast at last, he picking apart the crueller with his fingers before popping strips of the pastry into his mouth, and plucked a strawberry off the platter. Sirius was far too distracted by the way Harry's teeth sank into the fruit, and the way the juice pooled at the corners of his mouth to eat himself. Watching him, Sirius found that his mouth had suddenly gone very dry.
In the light of the new day, Sirius found himself nervous, an emotion he was not entirely used to experiencing. He longed to touch Harry—not necessarily in a sexual way, but to have some sort of contact—and he was fairly certain that Harry would panic, and reject him.
Harry had been quite receptive the night before, much more than Sirius would have expected, but would he feel the same now, now that the consummation was over and done with? Aside from the few times they needed to have sex to keep the bloodline magic in check, would Harry accept his touch at all?
“Where did you go?”
Harry's voice pulled Sirius from his thoughts, and he looked down at him in confusion.
“Hm?”
“Just now,” Harry explained, “you looked so...I dunno, faraway. What are you thinking about?”
“A lot of things,” Sirius hedged, scooping up his own mug to keep from fidgeting with his hands too much. “Us, this, our future...I'm not certain what to expect.”
“It's nice to know that now that all of the courtship stuff is over that I'm not the only one who feels completely out of his depth,” Harry said with a short, humourless laugh. “I suppose we'll learn as we go, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sirius agreed, and smiled down at Harry, who returned it readily before he scooped his tea up again, and as he stared down into his milky, sugary, ruined tea, his expression shifted to contemplative.
Sirius watched him; something in Harry's face told Sirius that he wanted to say something, but it seemed as though he couldn't find the words.
“I want to thank you,” Harry said at last, his face flushing a faint pink, though as he spoke he did not look up. “For last night, I mean. I was...well, you know. I was really scared. I was...I was afraid I wouldn't be able to...” Harry shook his head, sipped his tea, and tried again. “There's this...this part of me that can't let go of the fact that no matter what changes between us, you're still my godfather. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to enjoy it because of that.” As Harry spoke, he leant against Sirius's side, silently seeking comfort, but apparently unable to verbally ask for it. Sirius indulged him at once, and wrapped an arm around him. “You made it beyond just good or...or pleasurable or however you want to phrase it. You made me feel...God, you made me feel like I've never felt before.”
Sirius smiled at the breathless quality of Harry's voice as he spoke, but before he could say anything, Harry continued.
“You made me feel loved,” Harry said, his voice quivering with unspoken sentiment. Sirius could all but hear the words Harry could not say; the silent apology that he couldn't love Sirius the way that Sirius loved him—not yet, anyway.
“I don't want you to ever feel unloved, Harry,” Sirius began after a pregnant pause, “I love you, you know that, and I hope that you know that I mean it. I'm not just...just saying it to fill the silence or something. It doesn't mean I expect you to share my feelings, either,” Sirius added quickly, we were both pushed into this, and I know it's taken you a bit more time to get to a place where you feel comfortable with me. I have no expectations one way or another, Harry.”
Sirius had been staring intently into his own steaming mug of tea while he spoke, struggling to ignore the warmth pressed into his right side, and how, barely ten hours after the fact, he was already fantasizing about taking Harry to bed again, if nothing else to feel it all again.
“Sirius,” Harry said, and the older man turned, lips parted and a question on his tongue, but he was silenced at once as to his complete surprise, Harry arched up and kissed him.
This was not one of the brief kisses Harry had offered him in the past—the ones that almost felt as though Harry was forcing himself, and wanted it over the moment it had begun. Harry truly wanted this one.
Sirius could feel it in the way Harry's lips were relaxed and slightly parted, how he had reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of Sirius's neck to hold him there, and how he exhaled a soft sigh of contentment, as though there was nowhere in the world he'd rather be.
Sirius was caught off-guard by the kiss at first; he was surprised at Harry's brazenness, given that he could not recall Harry ever instigating anything before. He was swept away almost at once by the taste of the strawberry juice that still clung to Harry's lips, the tea on his breath, and the scent of last night's activities that still rested upon his skin, though it was faint.
“I know that you mean it,” Harry whispered, “believe me, I know. And I'm grateful. I—” Harry broke off abruptly, his face flushing a faint, familiar pink, and it was a moment before he seemed to find his voice again. “ You haven't broken any of your promises to me, and I trust that you'll keep the rest of them.”
“I'm not perfect,” Sirius reminded him, his voice now little more than a low purr, “there's every chance that I'll cock it up. This isn't a fairy story, and I'm no Prince Charming.”
“I know that you're not,” Harry replied quickly, “your firewhisky-induced hissy fits are about as legendary as Teddy's toddler ones. After everything that's happened though, I trust you in all areas but one.”
Something in Harry's tone seemed a little odd as he said that, and his words sent an unpleasant jolt through Sirius.
“Where do you not trust me?”
“Not poisoning me with one of your cooking experiments,” Harry replied with a grin, and Sirius snorted.
“Well, if that's all. I'll just have to get you to teach me, and in the meantime on my nights to cook I'll make my famous Floo call for takeaway.”
Still smiling, Harry leant against him again, and picked his mug back up. Sirius did not fail to notice the look on Harry's face.
It was something close to joy.
In the last months, he could not recall ever seeing Harry look so happy, so content, and to think that it had been he himself that brought this out of Harry gave Sirius hope.
Sirius picked up his own mug, mirroring his husband, and Harry made some sort of lighthearted comment about him needing to properly eat, mere moments before he broke off a small bunch of grapes off from the whole and pressed them into Sirius's hand. As he did so, he was still clearly flustered, as though he was caught between sudden embarrassment at his actions, and a strange sort of alarmed contentment—as though he was surprised at how comfortable he felt in Sirius's presence.
The uncertain future Sirius had envisioned for them crumbled as he lifted the fruit to his mouth and plucked one of the berries off the vine with his teeth. Harry's face broke into a small, bashful smile as Sirius offered him the vine, and he took a grape in the same fashion, his movements slow and somewhat awkward, but still terribly endearing.
The future was still uncertain in many ways.
In the years to come, Sirius knew that Potestas would ask more of Harry than he would be willing to give.
But in that moment, Sirius looked ahead with hope.
Hope that, in spite of everything, he might get his happy ending, after all.

To Be Continued...
A/N: Crystal healing is really complicated, and depending on what you read, a particular crystal may have two different uses in two different books/sources. This definition was based on a combination of stuff from The Complete Crystal Handbook by Cassandra Eason and Cunningham's Encyclopædia of Crystal, Gem, and Metal Magic by Scott Cunningham.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little interlude, I was aiming for so much fluff your teeth will rot from so much adorableness, and if the inhuman sounds I made while writing this is any indication, I think I managed it, haha.
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