Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/78776.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Sirius_Black/Severus_Snape, Sirius_Black/James_Potter, Harry_Potter/
      Severus_Snape/Sirius_Black
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, James_Potter, Severus_Snape, Sirius_Black, Peter_Pettigrew,
      Remus_Lupin
  Additional Tags:
      Distopian_AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-04-09 Words: 18002
****** A Prelude to Valour ******
by Nimori
Summary
     Snape saves Harry from the Dursleys. Harry doesn't want saving.
Notes
     Thanks: Amanuensis1, Maeglin, and the Underground Koala. Written for
     Agatha fro Reversathon.
See the end of the work for more notes
Privet drive had an overbearing feel of muggle about it, and the house at
number four was the worst of the lot. The only hint of magic about the place
was the garden gnomes perched on the lawn, and those, Severus noted with a
sniff, were made of wood.
Still, he cast a containment spell around the house and yard. He'd been charged
with fetching a brat, and so fetch a brat he would. Wand in hand, Severus
stepped up to the door, and after a moment of hunting, located the small box
with a button on it. He pressed it, and heard a grating jangle from within the
house, then boys shouting, then quieter footsteps, and then the door opened on
a narrow-faced woman who was more neck then head.
The squib sister. He took no chances and pushed into the house, even as the
woman, Dursley, recognized the wand in his hand and tried to close the door.
"Where are they?"
"You can't have him!" she shrilled back at once, removing any doubt of her
complicity.
"I can and I shall. Imperio." She slumped slack-faced against the wall, and
Severus shut the door behind him. "Now, Mrs Dursley. Tell me where your sister
is."
The shrill voice dulled. "Dead in a car crash."
This was news. "And the boy?"
Her jaw muscles worked and spittle collected on her lips, but she was only a
squib, after all. "Back... back yard."
"Very good. Stay put, Mrs Dursley. Someone will be along to deal with you."
Severus crossed the house with caution. The uncle ought to be labouring at his
incomprehensible job, but one could never be sure with muggles. The shouting
he'd heard was coming from outdoors; through the kitchen window he could see
two boys running in the yard.
Intent on his quarry, he didn't think to conceal his wand, and one of the boys,
the fatter one, stopped dead upon seeing him.
"Harry, it's one of them. Run!"
Potter, glasses askew and that damned scar winking from behind a dishevelled
fringe, gaped long enough for Severus to have killed him thrice over, then
bolted for the hedges, where he bounced off the containment charm and landed on
his arse in the flower bed.
Severus swept up to him, and stopped when the hem of his robe brushed the boy's
trainers. "So very pleased to see you again, Mr Potter." He bowed from the
waist; he didn't know how much Lily had told the brat before she died, but he
would take no chances. "My name, if you don't recall, is Snape. My employer is
most eager to renew his acquaintance with you."
"You leave my cousin alone," the fat boy said, in a voice that strained for
belligerence, as Potter scrambled out of the hydrangea bushes, "or my father
will give you what-for when he gets home."
"Will he." The cousin went even paler at Severus's amusement, but shoved Potter
behind his bulky frame and raised his fists in some sort of primitive defense.
"I suppose muggles must have their Gryffindors too," Severus said, and sighed
when neither boy reacted to the name. "Ignorant little urchin." He almost made
the insult plural, but that wouldn't do at all. "I'm afraid I must insist you
come along, Mr Potter."
"I won't," Potter said.
"Imperio. You certainly will. Go upstairs and pack your things."
"I won't," the brat said again, after a humiliatingly brief pause, and
something clenched in Severus's stomach. He lowered his voice, lengthened his
words to temper whatever it was that made his heart race. Not fear. He could
put a name to that.
"You will." He didn't dare another Imperius -- another humiliation.
"Mobilicorpus."
Potter's outraged shout as his body surged after Severus almost made up for his
chagrin at having one of his best curses shrugged off by a fourteen year old
with no training. The cousin grabbed Potter's arm and held on until Severus
transfigured him into a pig with an annoyed flick of his wand. He marched
Potter into the house and slammed the door on the cousin's startled squeals.
Inside, Severus eyed the strange unmoving pictures that marched up the wall in
time to the stairs. The Dursleys and their piglet son; the two brats in horrid
maroon and orange school uniforms, arms flung about each other, walking sticks
crossed in front; Lily and a young Harry, smiling, shadow-eyed. Nothing of
James.
He deduced which of the four bedrooms belonged to Potter by eliminating the two
with double beds and the one with dirty plates stacked on the desk and empty
crisp packets on the floor. He drew an expanding valise from his pocket and
tossed it on the floor. "Pack."
He examined Potter's possessions as they flew into the valise, and found them
all oddities: silver boxes with no apparent purpose, close-fitting clothes of
slick materials, too many things with wheels. Potter had stopped shouting and
was watching the process, and looking a tad green for it.
"Remembering anything?" Severus asked.
The boy shook his head, lips pressed together and bloodless, but he looked
fearful when Severus brought out the portkey, so Severus reckoned he did.
*****
"Good news, my lord!" shouted Sirius Black as he strode into the parlour,
sending the visiting Minister for Magic and his wife into a flutter. "The
bastard's done it, he's found Harry."
The reigning lord of magical Britain set his teacup down with far more than the
necessary care; the Minister and his wife clutched theirs.
"They're at St Mungo's now," Sirius continued -- he'd burst if he didn't.
"Snape wanted him checked out in case he'd anything wrong with him. Imagine
living with muggles for ten years! They'd have no idea how to treat a magical
malady, I reckon."
"What's this, my lord?" Fudge asked.
"My son," James said, sounding breathless to Sirius, who knew him too well,
"has been found."
"Living with muggles?" Ursula Fudge put a hand to her mouth. "How... unusual."
"Quite." James ran a hand through his hair, something he hadn't done since they
were in school. "If you'll pardon me, Minister, Mrs Fudge. Obliviate."
"Sorry about that," Sirius said, not sorry at all. Happy news was meant to be
blurted. "It's not like we can hide where he's been forever anyhow."
"What of Lily?"
Sirius waved his hand. "Dead. Years ago, according to Snape, and good
riddance."
James sank back in his chair, much of the tightness across his shoulders
easing. Sirius willed it not be grief. "My son's coming home. My Harry."
"What's this, my lord?" Fudge asked, a bit more groggily than he had the first
time.
"Obliviate," James and Sirius said together, and laughed when the Fudges went
cross-eyed and slumped in their seats.
"He'll be no good after that," Sirius said between snickers. "Won't be able to
tie his shoelaces without a diagram and someone to walk him through it."
"I never liked him anyhow," James said. "It's time for a new Minister. My son
is coming home!"
*****
Prying Peter away from his new post at Hogwarts took more effort than Sirius
found his company worth most days, but with the extra incentive of seeing Harry
again, Sirius badgered him to the hospital with only two fire calls and a
howler.
Peter tumbled out of the St Mungo's lobby floo, brushing ash from his tasteful
burgundy robes and muttering about meetings and staircases and the dearth of
Defence professors in Britain. "Hello again," he added more loudly when he saw
Sirius, as though the last time they'd spoken hadn't involved Sirius cussing at
him over the floo. "Has Severus sorted everything out then? Can we fetch him?"
"I've only just got here, I don't know." Sirius caught his arm and tugged him
over to the lifts. They rode to Harry's floor in silence peppered with
conversational bids by Peter and distracted grunts from Sirius. They found the
right room after only three wrong tries.
"It's unnatural," a young voice was saying within.
"Why?" That was Snape, and he sounded amused. "Because muggles don't do it?"
"Yes. No. It just is!" Harry, Sirius saw as he stuck his head in the doorway,
was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, dressed and kicking his trainers
against the lowered rails. "I mean, people just don't turn into pigs!"
"Dishes don't wash themselves either, but that doesn't stop muggles from
scrubbing them." Snape was propped against the wall with his arms folded across
his chest. "I suppose in your expert opinion people ought to eat off of dirty
plates because that's their natural condition after they've been used."
"We have a dishwasher," Harry said sourly. "And a pig isn't any use at all,
unless you're going to eat it."
"It was useful to me," Snape muttered. "The pig's squealing was much easier on
my ears."
"I hate to interrupt this fascinating barnyard conversation," Sirius said,
putting on his most charming smile and half-expecting Harry to rush over and
hug him, "but I haven't seen my godson for ten years."
"He turned my cousin into a pig," Harry said, not moving. And then, "I don't
have a godfather."
"Don't worry, Harry," Peter said with too much joviality, "we'll send someone
'round to set your cousin right." Sirius rolled his eyes. He'd already 'sent
someone 'round,' and if Diggory had set anything right in that house there'd be
grief when Sirius found him.
"You can't pretend you don't remember me, Harry James Potter." Sirius came in
and flounced on the bed. "You wheedled too many broom rides when you were
little."
Harry's lips thinned and he looked away, out the window. "Brooms don't fly."
"I never said they did." Harry's head snapped around, mouth open, and Sirius
ruffled his hair and leaned in close to whisper, "But they do."
"Forget it, Black." Snape uncoiled from against the wall. "The muggles have
been at him."
"You have a motorcycle," Harry said suddenly.
"It flies, too," Snape said, sneering. "I have work to which I must attend. I
leave young Mr Potter in your care." Snape bowed, and strode out.
Snape was as good as a girl some days, going all cold and distant until Sirius
remembered just why he had hated the bastard in school. He caught one black
sleeve as it swept past. "Anything you want for this, tonight."
A stiff nod, and Snape was gone.
*****
These new kidnappers, Black and Pettigrew, were as bad as the foreigners Uncle
Vernon always complained about. Their speech was full of words in another
language altogether, and they used plain English words wrongly, talking about
the chimney flue as though it were the underground. They mentioned strange
people and places as though Harry ought to know them, and Pettigrew seemed to
expect him to be excited over going some place called Hogwarts.
He gave Pettigrew a cold look, and made a note of all the funny names anyway,
in case he spotted a policeman.
They gave him no chance to run however, and walked close on either side of him.
He tried to tell a nurse he'd been kidnapped, and she cooed over him and
promised he'd be back with his father soon.
And what did she know? Harry was quite disgusted with adults by the time they
reached the lobby and Black and Pettigrew's argument over portkey versus the
chimney underground started drawing attention. His father was dead, and it must
have been very horrible if his mother and aunt would only ever refer to him as
You-Know-Who.
Stupid nurse. Stupid people in strange clothing, staring at the arguing men but
doing nothing to help while Harry tried to free himself from their grip. Stupid
dreams. Motorcycles didn't fly.
"Fine," Pettigrew said. "Take him by floo, lose him in the network. I'm going
back to my school."
"Will someone ring the police? If it's escaped your attention, I'm being
kidnapped. Yes, I'm talking to you," he shouted at a passing woman, who wore
the most horrible hat imaginable -- it had some sort of dead bird perched on
the brim. The woman sniffed and muttered something about the muckles Snape had
gone on about.
"Tosser," Black called after Pettigrew's departing back. "So, Harry, Snape
tells me -- stop that." Black squeezed Harry's wrist until he stopped kicking.
"Snape's note said you don't care for portkeys."
"I don't know what those are," Harry muttered, and closed his eyes against the
sudden nausea. The ugly scar on his forehead throbbed and he thought he heard
someone shouting, far away. It's a hospital, he told himself, and forced his
eyes to open. Someone's crying is all.
"Best take the floo then. And just so you don't get lost--"
"Oi!" Harry shouted as Black lifted him up and threw him over a shoulder. He
kicked and wriggled and managed to bite the back of one muscle-bound arm, and
almost broke his teeth for his trouble. A heavy hand landed on his upraised
backside with a loud slap that momentarily silenced the entire lobby.
Harry's face flamed, and he looked down, only to be confronted with Black's
altogether too perky arse.
"None of that now." Black jogged him and a shoulder drove into Harry's stomach.
"I don't want to drag you back to James under Imperius."
Harry froze. Neither Lily nor Petunia would say the name, but Uncle Vernon did
sometimes. "How do you know my father's name?"
"I told you. Godfather." The world swayed as they crossed the lobby. "Godric's
Hollow!" Black shouted and then they swirled into a vortex of cool green
flames. Interiors of old-fashioned rooms flashed by, whirling around and
around.
"I'm gonna be sick!"
"I'd advise against that, unless you want a week of howlers from people
complaining about vomit on their hearths. Hang on for just a few more stops."
They slowed even before Black finished speaking, and the ride halted with a
jerk that Black navigated easily, and they found themselves in a lavish
parlour. Oriental carpets swam in Harry's view, bathed with large patches of
sunshine and forested with curved mahogany legs of tables, chairs, and settees.
Silence lay thick and oppressive over everything, the rhythm of the stillness
kept by the grandfather clock standing sentry somewhere in the room.
"Welcome home, kiddo," Black said, and set Harry on his feet. All the blood
rushed down -- retaliation for having spent so long in his head, he was sure -
- and he swayed. "You can puke on the floor if you want," Black said helpfully.
"The house elves will clean it up."
"That's a four hundred-year-old flying carpet from Mughal India you're telling
my son to vomit on."
Harry turned and felt his heart sink. The man coming to greet them looked just
like him -- same turned-up nose, same squarish jaw, same messy black hair. He
even had the same lightning-bolt scar on his forehead though, unlike Harry, he
brushed fringe back as if to show it off.
Hold on with both hands, Harry. Now kick with your feet, that's it, I'm right
beside you. Padfoot, get a picture of this!
"Hi, Dad," he managed to whisper before James crushed him to his chest.
*****
The house in Godric's Hollow harboured two ghosts: a Roman soldier called Gaius
Saturninius Crescentius who'd come with the land, and Harry's Great-Aunt
Delilah. The casual revelation that he now lived in a haunted house, let slip
over a late supper during which James did all the talking, unsettled him. It
was the ghosts' presence, more than the moving paintings or Sirius's silly wand
tricks or the way food just appeared on the table at dinner, that crumbled
Harry's hope that this was all just some nasty hoax set up by that prank
programme Dudley loved.
Walking through the halls after supper, Harry fought off the growing sense of
familiarity. He hadn't run down this corridor before. He hadn't spent hours
coaxing a fluffy thing from under that cabinet. He certainly had never broken
the bust of Edmund Potter four times in one week, even though the statue pulled
a terrified face as he passed by, James beside him and Sirius ambling behind.
The sudden chill of a ghostly body passing through his own shook him, and Harry
was glad of Sirius's steady hand on his shoulder as the translucent figure
turned and began spouting gibberish that James said was Latin.
"He'll let on that he doesn't understand English," Sirius said, urging him on
to the bedroom after James, "but don't you believe him for a minute. If he
gives you grief just tell him the REO works for your dad."
Harry didn't know what the REO was, and didn't much care when his knees felt
like they'd never hold him up again. Sirius seemed to understand, even if he
had no sympathy and herded Harry into the room before he could process the
lingering chill and the memories to which it left him vulnerable.
James stood in the middle of the colourful room, awash with late summer light
that turned his black hair red. Childish toys lined shelves or stood on the
floor, some familiar from Harry's life on Privet Drive, others spinning only
that disturbing thread of deja-vu. It looked like something out of a campy
Christmas special.
"I haven't changed a thing," James said. "Except the bed. I let the house elves
make it bigger." He sounded nervous, and Harry couldn't imagine why. He wasn't
the one who'd had his life turned turtle.
Then again, maybe he had. And he was looking at Harry expectantly, so Harry
swallowed back his doubts and tried to summon something from the haze of his
early childhood.
"Quillitch wallpaper?" He couldn't stop his nose from wrinkling. James and
Sirius shared an amused look over his head, and he rolled his eyes, but the
tension broke.
"Quidditch," James said, "and you love it."
"You can change it if you want," Sirius added, over James's immediate protest.
"The colours are a bit young for you. Oh hush, Prongs. He's got to live here
and he'll want something more grown-up, I'm sure."
"More not moving," Harry muttered, eyeing the slow friendly bob of winged
balls.
"As you like," James said, and Harry raised an eyebrow at his petulance. "We'll
leave you to sleep now. Your... things from your aunt's house are in the
wardrobe. If you need anything, just call for Tongle. Good night." James's cool
lips pressed to his forehead. A kiss from Sirius followed, hot and unsettling
against his cheek. Harry scrubbed it away with the heel of his palm, but Sirius
only smirked.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Harry in a room meant for a four-
year-old who knew that it was quidditch, not quillitch, owned woolly pet
furballs that hid under cabinets, and wasn't afraid of portkeys.
The rocking horse in the corner whickered, and he jumped. It shook its yarn
mane and then fell still under Harry's glare. He felt as though everything in
the room was watching.
The doorknob turned easily in his hand when he tried it, and Harry counted to
ten before he opened the door.
James and Sirius were at the end of the hall, heads close together. "Stay the
night," James was saying. "Hell, stay the month."
"I have an appointment with Snape."
"You can fuck him any time." Harry's breath caught, and he didn't know how the
words could shock him more than moving wallpaper or the creatures who had
appeared to clear the supper table. "I need you here tonight. I can't do this
alone."
"You have him back now." Sirius stroked James's hair. "You'll do fine, you
always do. And I'm here."
"How could she?" James burst out, and Sirius shushed him until he lowered his
voice to a fierce whisper Harry had to strain to hear. "How could she keep him
from me all these years? I've missed everything."
He means my mother, Harry thought as Sirius kissed James full on the mouth and
led him away. He closed the door and leaned against it, staring forward without
seeing the restless toys. She told me he was dead.
He slept, but not until the sky began to lighten again, and dreamt he was
riding a stag through the woods. And then the stag was a motorcycle, warm
leather seat rumbling between his legs, and he was flying. When he woke to the
odd but vexingly familiar Tongle holding a breakfast tray, he resolved to try
this new life -- the life he should have been living all along.
It was not just James who had missed everything.
*****
"But what am I to do if he asks about Lily?" Peter asked, plucking at his robes
in a way Sirius had come to loathe.
"Tell him the truth," Sirius said. "Lily ran off with Harry and hid him from
James."
"It was a lot more complicated than that! You were there, Padfoot..." Peter
trailed off as Sirius turned a full glare on him. "I just meant... Dumbledore
opposing James's run for Minister, not the other thing. James was so angry--"
"Dumbledore should have kept out of it." Sirius threw down the report he'd been
trying to read before Peter burst into his office, all atwitter because James
wanted Harry to go straight into fifth year when he didn't even know a simple
levitation charm. "Our Jamie would be Minister instead of overlord, Harry would
have grown up with us, and I wouldn't have my charming cousin and her poncy
husband reminding me of the cost of their backing at every turn!"
Peter, far from taking offence, turned sympathetic at once. "After the anti-
muggle legislation again, are they?"
Sirius rubbed his eyes. "With Harry around to remind James of Lily they might
just get it. I try to tell him it will only alienate the muggle-born sector
further, but he just goes all quiet and starts chewing the inside of his lip."
"Hmm, interviewing Harry is sounding the less difficult job. Thanks, Sirius."
"Pleasure to be of service, Wormtail." Sirius didn't manage to keep the sour
look from his face, and Peter laughed at him.
"Buck up, mate. Unless Harry has managed to pick up at least third-year basics,
I'm going to recommend a private tutor this year. You'll have him underfoot a
while longer. That should please you."
"James won't like it," Sirius said, grinning, and Peter sniffed.
"Then James can run the school himself. Oh, hullo, Harry. Come on in."
"Sorry I'm late," Harry said. He looked frazzled, and the robe James insisted
he wear instead of muggle jeans was on backwards. "What's the REO?"
"Royal Exorcism Office," Peter said. "It's part of the Department for the
Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Spirit Division. Why?"
"Is Gaius Saturninius giving you trouble?" Sirius dropped the half-read report
into his outbox. It missed and slalomed into the rubbish bin.
"He's not very scary," Harry said, jutting his chin out as though he expected
them to argue the point. "He stopped following me when I told him what you said
to say, Sirius."
"I reckon that sent him running as fast as his translucent blue sandals could
carry him." Sirius grinned, and Peter harrumphed over Harry's nod.
"Good, good, now if you don't mind, Sirius--"
"Evicted from my own office!" Sirius winked at Harry, pleased to see the boy's
shy grin.
"We're not all favoured with a desk at the Hollow. Now shoo. I think James was
looking for you. He's plotting something and wants your help."
Sirius, who lived for such words, was out the door before he thought to ask
what had happened to Peter's own office.
*****
James Potter, Lord of Magical Britain, had eschewed labels of light and dark.
His subjects called him Lord James or, if they were desperate not to speak his
name, the Wizard Lord. Severus found the whole thing ridiculous; both James and
Potter were common as dirt, so it wasn't like they could avoid ever saying the
names, and it wasn't as though James had ever indicated he should be called
anything but James or Mr Potter.
All in all, Severus thought, watching his lord introduce the gangly boy to the
more important sycophants, not a bad thumb to be under.
He sipped his wine, some expensive vintage that Black had insisted was divine
before he gave up on educating Severus's palate, and tried not to allow his
loathing for the upper echelons of James's court to surface. Harry was looking
his way with the longing of someone who knows only a few faces in a room full
of strangers, so Severus turned his back and pretended to socialize with the
jackals.
The headmaster was speaking with Delia Diggory, no doubt about the priggish son
she was trying to work into James's circle of confidants, and Severus cut over
to them. Diggory saw him coming and excused herself.
"Peter." Severus sipped to avoid smirking as Pettigrew started and turned. "How
are things at Hogwarts? No trouble stepping into Lupin's shoes?"
Pettigrew's florid face paled. "No, no, everything's in order. You know how
Remus -- Lupin was. The records are impeccable."
"Very good. You'll report any further evidence to Black, of course."
"Of course." Pettigrew's composure returned with more alacrity than Severus had
hoped.
"And any artefacts from the previous headmaster which you may find lurking
about."
"I do know my job, Severus," Pettigrew said with the false joviality that drove
everyone but James mad. "Remus -- Lupin cleaned most of Dumbledore's tricks
from the school, and James shan't have to replace any more headmasters on my
account. Now, Ministers..." He took Severus's arm, ignoring his fierce glare.
"You've heard about Fudge. Rita told me Malfoy has all but declared himself for
the race, and I know that Umbridge woman was sniffing about the office before
Fudge... well, before he fell ill. Do you think she'll step up as a candidate?
I'd place my money on Malfoy, myself."
"Spare me your blathering. The only thing about the elections that concerns me
is how long before the next one."
"Now I know your services weren't required for Fudge, Severus, so buck up. Or
is that what's got you out of sorts?"
Severus growled and reclaimed his arm. "If you think--"
"There you are, Peter." James whirled over. "Narcissa has some questions over
next year's curriculum. Severus, keep an eye on Harry, would you? I know it's
just the inner circle tonight, but he's my son and I've no doubt he could find
trouble in an empty basket. Honestly, Peter, Hagrid for Care of Magical
Creatures? What were you thinking?"
Severus sighed at James's receding back, and looked around for the wizarding
world's new prince. Lucius had cornered Harry by the billiards table, and
Severus drifted closer to see whether he would once again need to rescue the
brat.
"... had days to adjust. Surely you've found it an improvement over the muggle
world," Lucius was saying.
"Not especially, no." Harry, for all that he'd been back with James less than a
week, had already perfected the look of bored entitlement.
"And you've been at your aunt's house all this time." Lucius ran the head of
his cane down Harry's cheek. "Poor child."
"It was brilliant, actually," Harry said coldly. "They took in me and my
mother."
"Ah, your mother." The cane found its way to Lucius's lips, pressed tight over
a smile, and Severus moved in before the conversation could turn any more
dangerous. "Killed in an auto-mobile crash, was she?"
"When I was seven," Harry grated.
"Let's have no more talk of Lily," James said appearing quite suddenly even as
Severus snagged a fresh drink from a passing house elf and handed it to Lucius.
"Harry, I want you to meet a good friend of mine, this is Alice Longbottom. We
went to school together -- you'll be in the same year as her son when you're
ready for Hogwarts..."
"I hear you're entering the race for Minister," Severus said as he pressed the
chilled glass into Lucius's uncooperative hand. Lucius frowned, but let the
Potters go. "Dangerous sort of job, isn't it?"
"I suppose you might think so, Severus." Lucius eyed the wine as though it were
a basket of figs which may or may not hide an asp. "The previous Ministers
seemed to me to have weak constitutions. I'm in much better health."
Severus hummed noncommittally "Good luck then. I presume you and your charming
wife will invite me to your inaugural dinner?" He smirked as a fine sheen broke
on Lucius's brow.
"You may presume on us at any time." Lucius bowed, but didn't lower his eyes.
"I'll bring a bottle of the Madeira you like so well." It was Albus who had
liked the sticky-sweet wine. Black had picked out the vintage.
Lucius, in the unenviable position of having once done James Potter a favour -
- which seemed to result in nothing more than hanging his future well-being on
the Wizard Lord's whim -- took a small sip.
"You should have been in Gryffindor, my friend," Severus murmured. Seeing that
James had sent Harry off to bed, he took his leave of Lucius, and went to
collect an overdue payment from Black.
*****
"Working late? How devoted of you."
Sirius stretched, nearly tipping his chair over as pleasure won over balance,
and grinned at Snape. Sirius had been quick enough to claim work to evade
James's loony version of a debutant ball, but in truth Harry's return and the
sudden indisposition of the Minister for Magic had buried his desk in an
avalanche of parchment. He was sure a few of the letters still had owls
attached to them; he fancied he could hear pitiful hoots from the mess. "You're
just jealous that you ran out of excuses and had to attend the party."
He beckoned until Snape prowled over to give him an upside-down kiss. "If I'd
spent the week fawning over the heir apparent, I would have excuses as well."
Sharp teeth nipped Sirius's lower lip, and then Snape was gone and gravity
lunged.
"Jesus." Sirius caught the desk leg with one foot before he could tip
backwards.
"Don't give the boy a messiah complex, please," Snape said from where he was
helping himself to the drinks cabinet.
"Funny man." Sirius pulled off his cravat -- the knot was already in shambles
from a very persistent owl from the head of the Department of Magical Law
Enforcement -- and threw it at the silver coffee service he'd ignored until it
went cold. "Come here and tell me how much you've missed me."
"Please." The clack of ice rattling in a full tumbler and then Snape was
sliding into his lap, warm and prim and smelling of the cigars Peter had taken
to smoking at James's gatherings. "You've much too high an opinion of
yourself."
Sirius removed the glass -- cheap rot he kept for Snape's visits rather than
watch him swill good brandy and not know the difference -- and set it in the
vicinity of the table. It missed and crashed to the floor, but Snape was
already at his neck, tugging back his collar to lap at Sirius's skin.
Sirius burrowed his fingers in the heavy robes Snape wore year-round, seeking
the eager cock. A warm handful filled his palm, and he murmured dirty nonsense
into Snape's dark hair.
"You owe me, Black," Snape mumbled, breath hot and heavy against Sirius's neck.
His hands set upon Sirius's buttons like Knockturn Alley thieves. "I've
returned your precious little prince as bid."
"Yes, and his Secret Keeper's only been dead six months," Sirius said, unable
to help himself, and the hands fell still.
"The Secret Keeper whom you and our wise Lord James kept in close counsel for
years while he smiled to your faces and kept Lily and Harry hidden from you?"
Snape looked down his long hooked nose at him, and it struck Sirius again just
how unattractive Snape was. Especially when he was being a prick. "Are you
reneging on your promise, Black?"
"No." Sirius smoothed the bite from his voice. He had all the pretty faces he
wanted; in the end it was only Snape. Not even James made as free with his bed.
"No, I'm not reneging. I'm grateful, truly."
"I wonder how long your gratitude will last this time."
Sirius flopped back in the chair, nearly unseating Snape from his lap. "Don't
start this again. James rewarded you, took you into his counsel, made you his
God-damned friend. You know we're both grateful for the warning you gave us -
- we would never have known the moldy old codger was going after Harry if not
for you."
Snape flinched at the casual taunt, though Voldemort was almost fourteen years
dead, and then, being Snape, he went on the attack. "When are you going to tell
me how James knew Voldemort was coming on that particular night?" Snape asked.
"And don't pretend he didn't. That was a trap. A ridiculous one that only
succeeded through sheer luck, but a trap all the same."
Sirius thinned his lips. He wasn't about to admit he didn't know, but James had
evaded the question, even at his drunkest, no matter how many times Sirius
asked.
Voldemort's coming. Tonight. No, don't ask, the Fidelius is down -- Peter's
fine. Sirius, shut up and listen to me! Just get over here and take Lily and
Harry to safety. No, I'm not leaving. For once we know where the bastard will
be before he gets there.
He'd tried to stay. Of course he'd tried to stay, either with James or in his
stead.
Sirius rubbed his eyes. "If James wants you to know, he'll tell you." A frown
met this, so he caught Snape's jaw and ran a thumb over the sulky lower lip. "I
told you anything you want, and I meant it." He adopted a breathy voice. "I'm
yours to command. Master."
Snape's pupils dilated, and Sirius had time to be smug at the well-trained
response before Snape made free with his gift. Hands fumbled in his clothing,
found his ribs, and Sirius gasped at the fingers so cool and spidery on his
skin.
"You wish to play, Black?" A twist to his nipple, and he arched into Snape.
"I wish to please you," Sirius said, never breaking the game. He knew all of
Snape's buttons, good and bad. The uncomfortable thought occurred to him that
Snape had more knowledge of Sirius's own buttons than he would have liked, but
that had been true since the moment they met; no one else had ever driven
Sirius to the heights of fury or passion with such speed and ease. He pushed
the thought away, and sucked on Snape's jaw, just where it met his ear.
Snape watched him from under heavy lids before he said, "Kneel," and slipped
off Sirius's lap to sit on the desk. Sirius obeyed with just enough lag to
allow Snape the option of punishing him, but Snape only leaned back.
"Please me, then, if you're so eager."
Sirius pressed his head against Snape's knee. He wanted to smile, but kept his
expression fatuous until Snape growled and pulled his hair, and only then began
to nip at Snape's thighs through his trousers.
He made his way to the placket, and breathed over the swollen bulge, inhaling
the musky heat. He tugged the buttons free with his teeth, and nosed the plain
white linen that barged out of the V of black wool. So conservative. He once
tried to tempt Snape into a pair of black silk boxers, only to be informed that
pants should be white and no other colour.
Then Sirius had made a rather unwise comment about fading to grey and Snape
hadn't spoken to him for three weeks.
Sirius drew down the pants without comment, again with his teeth, careful not
to catch any hair. Snape's cock bobbed free, and the heady scent grew stronger.
"May I suck you?" Sirius asked, and bit back a laugh at Snape's fierce
expression.
"If you find this amusing--" A fist clutched his hair, pulled his head back.
"I'm sorry, Master. I'll be good." Sirius forced himself to take the game
seriously. He took the cockhead into his mouth and held it there, teasing the
slit with his tongue. The grip on his hair gentled.
"Take it all, Black," Snape crooned. "Take it all in. Fuck your mouth with me."
He did, and found it easier to fall into his role at the familiar taste and
feel of Snape's cock on his tongue. He knew Snape liked to give orders, and
liked it even more when Sirius obeyed them, but Sirius couldn't even obey James
half the time. The rhythmic heat driving into his mouth lulled him into an
Imperius-like state until all he could think of was pleasing Snape, and it was
only when Snape dragged him off that he realized how close Snape was. His own
erection lay hot and heavy between his legs.
"Would you like me over the desk, Master?"
"No. You're going to fuck me, my little pet, and fuck me hard."
Sirius hesitated. Snape usually topped, working for both their pleasure, and
he'd thought that was a mutual decision. Snape's grip on his neck tightened a
warning, and Sirius assented before he could over think.
He tugged Snape forward until his arse just rested on the edge of the desk. A
flick of his wand transfigured the contents of his inkwell into lube, haste
leaving it a deep translucent purple. Sirius slicked his fingers and nudged
behind Snape's sac, slipping between his cheeks and deep into his arse.
Snape groaned. "Good and hard, Make me feel it."
Standing, Sirius pulled Snape closer, kissed him while he drove his fingers
deeper, tugged at his clothes and finally banished them altogether.
"Black..."
"Tongle'll--" A bite and an answering moan. "--fetch us more."
"Now. Do it."
"Yes." He didn't, but found the small firm nub and stroked it until Snape
growled and swore at him, and then he withdrew his fingers and pressed his body
close to Snape's, thrilling in the slide of skin on skin, in the way Snape
bared his throat to Sirius's teeth. He fumbled between their bodies for his
cock, guided it home.
They both grunted as he slid inside. He held still a moment, then drove forward
as Snape demanded, a thrill settling deep in his belly as Snape's long legs
wound around his hips, holding, guiding, controlling them. A heel jabbed his
thigh like a spur, and he surged in response, sped his thrusts. His breath
seared his throat, and stirred Snape's hair in humid gasps, Snape's hands
losing purchase on Sirius's sweat-slick back, Snape's cursing burning his ears,
Snape's eyes driving him with sheer force of will and the fierce glare
promising hell if Sirius came first.
He pumped Snape's cock, palm slick with sweat and precome and a thin sheen of
the watery purple lube. "Let me come, let me come, oh Christ, please." And the
hot spurt of semen over his hand undid him, and he let Snape's cock go to pin
his hips down and pistoned into him until his own climax crashed over him,
leaving him weak-kneed and drowsy against Snape's body. He registered the third
breathing body in the room just in time to turn his head and catch the back of
Harry's robe as it slipped out of the room.
"Precocious little bastard," Snape muttered.
"Runs in the family." Sirius turned his face back to Snape's neck. Harry would
sort himself out.
He leaned into Snape and the desk, feeling Snape lean into him in return.
Propping each other up. A few scattered kissed fell onto collarbones and
foreheads before Sirius sighed. "Only for you would I play this ridiculous
game."
"Admit it. You like being brought to heel." Snape sounded entirely too smug,
but post-coital lassitude kept Sirius from objecting.
Afterglow. That's all it is. I'll put him back in his place tomorrow.
*****
Harry fell back against his door, breathing hard from the run. He'd gone right
through Gaius Saturninius without even flinching, too overwhelmed by images of
naked bodies to care. His body tingled all over, tight and heavy between his
legs and he pressed the front of the silly dressing gown James insisted he wear
instead of trousers.
The rocking horse whinnied, and several of the stuffed creatures managed
shocked expressions with just their button eyes and stitched mouths as he
clutched himself. No embarrassing erection, but it felt like there would be
soon if he didn't stop touching it, so he pulled his hand away and flopped onto
his bed. He tried to remember Uncle Vernon's tirades on shirt-lifting liberal
nancy boys, but all he could recall was Sirius on his knees, smirking up at
Snape.
Harry hadn't meant to walk in on them. And he certainly hadn't meant to stay
and watch. He'd only wanted to say goodnight to his godfather -- and perhaps
rummage through the desk if Sirius wasn't there, in search of a telephone from
which he might call his aunt.
"I'm living in a madhouse," he muttered, and his old toys managed to look even
more disapproving. "Oh, shut up, the lot of you."
"You could ask Jamie to charm them to speak, dear."
All of the heat in Harry's belly rushed to his face as he realized he hadn't
been alone. "No, I don't like them as it is. It'd be worse if they could talk."
He rolled over onto his stomach in case his problem got any worse, and looked
at the ghost knitting in the rocking chair in the corner. He would never adjust
to the way her body rocked while the chair stayed still. "Aunt Delilah?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Is it normal? What Sirius and Snape do? For wizards, I mean."
"If by normal you mean common, no." The ghostly needles tinkled like glass as
they clacked together. "And it's not encouraged, though the Ministry doesn't
like to say so. Very fond of its reputation, the Ministry."
"Why should they care?"
"Why, when I was a little girl it was quite the fashion to acknowledge the love
that dared not speak its name. Too many muggle-born children, you see, and not
enough couples to take them."
"I don't understand."
"We never used to leave wizarding children to be raised by muggles. The
Ministry would take them -- there was a whole department devoted to it -- and
place them in magical homes." She sighed. "It all ended long before my Horace
cursed me barren."
"That's horrible," Harry said, and the ghost nodded.
"I hadn't been unfaithful at all. Not really. Only the once or twice. It was
most unfair of him."
"I meant about the children."
"Yes, that too. I would have liked one for my own. I would have called him
Theodore." She smiled and packed her knitting into a translucent silvery carpet
bag. "But I have Edmund's son Jamie, and now you. Shall I tuck you in?"
"No, no thank you." Harry scrambled beneath the covers, and only then wriggled
out of his robe.
"Good night, dear."
Long moments after Aunt Delilah had drifted through the door, Harry pulled the
blanket over his head. "I'm living in a madhouse," he said again, and the
rocking horse whickered in agreement.
*****
"James?"
"S'nice, keep going."
Sirius frowned and gave the head of James's cock a few more swipes with his
tongue. "James? That thing needs to go." He shot the giant stuffed bear a
glare, and the beady glass eyes matched it. "Or at least turn it around."
James fumbled for his wand with one hand, while the other pushed Sirius's head
back down. "Obliquo. Better, you big girl?"
"Mmm." He licked the salty trail of precome away. "You're not really giving
that to Harry, are you?"
"What's wrong with it?"
Sirius sat up. "What's wrong with it? He's a teenaged boy. Do you know what
he's probably doing right now? Wanking off in the toilet."
James spluttered.
"And I reckon he'll do it again before he goes to bed, and again when he wakes
up."
"Padfoot," James moaned. "That's my baby you're talking about."
"Your baby is fifteen next week. Snape told me his eyes never left Alice's
chest the entire time you were introducing them. I'm surprised he didn't shake
her tit instead of her hand."
That startled a laugh out of James before he buried his face in the pillows.
"You're imagining it. Harry's never going to grow up. I won't let him."
Sirius had the sudden discomfiting idea that James wasn't joking. "He's been
watching us, Prongs." James sat up so quickly he bashed his forehead on
Sirius's chin. "Watching me with Snape. Four times this week and three last."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing. But I left a wank mag on my desk. It was gone the next day, so either
Harry took it or Tongle has a thing for witches who take it up both ends at
once."
"You fucking bastard." James sounded more dazed than angry, so Sirius pushed
him back down and gave his cock another slow lick.
"Now James, are you actually going to give that ridiculous teddy bear to a
fifteen-year-old for his birthday?"
"... No."
"Don't be sulky. Just find him something more appropriate for his age. Think
about what you wanted most for your fifteenth."
"My father would never have bought it for me." But James sounded thoughtful, so
Sirius smiled and sucked his cock in. He fancied he could hear the bear
grumbling from the corner. Harry, you owe your godfather a big one.
*****
Despite Snape's surliness and this new and disturbing (and addictive) penchant
for fucking Harry's godfather, Harry found himself warming to the man. His
father had explained all about the evil wizard Voldemort and how he had tried
to kill Harry and how he, James, had killed Voldemort instead and saved the
wizarding world. Snape's role hadn't come up until Harry overheard him speak of
it, but he noted Sirius -- who Harry had to admit was very cool, despite being
a shirt-lifting liberal freak -- hadn't refuted it.
"What are you doing?"
Snape didn't look up from his mad-scientist setup. "Working."
"But what do you do?" Harry had gathered that his father ran the wizarding
world, a job which seemed to require James spending a lot of time convincing
everyone to do what he said. And that Sirius assisted him by making sure the
ones James couldn't convince did as they were told anyway.
"I do many nasty things that no one else wants to, and which nosy little boys
need not hear about."
"I'm not a little boy. I'm almost fifteen."
"Not nearly old enough." Snape muttered something that sound like 'Thirty-
five's not old enough.'
"Sirius doesn't like it when Dad treats me like a kid." Harry narrowed his eyes
to watch Snape's reaction to the threat of Sirius's displeasure. Snape's
shoulders tightened a bit and that was all, but for Snape it was good as a
flinch. Harry filed the information away, and ignored the scowl that wanted to
furrow his brow and turn down his mouth. He didn't care what Sirius did with
Snape.
Why do you keep watching them, then?
Shut up.
"Very well then, if it will please Black." Snape's sarcasm came a beat too late
and Harry zeroed in on the suddenly clipped motion of the knife. "I am
attempting to replicate a Sumerian poison reputed to turn the drinker's blood
to acid over a period of weeks. A most painful and macabre death."
"Gross. Why would you want to make that?"
"I've someone in mind to use it on," Snape said, and the distraction in his
voice -- as if he really were dreaming of using it -- put Harry off pursuing
the matter.
"I'm bored."
"Then go play, or study the lessons Pettigrew left you, or do whatever it is
nosy boys do when they aren't pestering their elders."
"I've no one to play with. Sirius is working." Harry licked his lips. "May I
ring my cousin?"
"There are no telephones in the house, and even if there were..." Snape leaned
in close to study the writhing mass on the chopping block.
"What?"
Snape let out an exasperated sigh. "You father wants you to focus on learning
your place here. Why don't you explore the house?" An odd look crossed his
narrow face. "Go marauding."
"Fine." Harry marched out of Snape's office, intending to get good and lost in
the warren of the house in Godric's Hollow just to spite them all. He stood in
the corridor for a moment, imagining how sorry Snape would be if Harry got
trapped in one of the rooms with one-way doors for a week, but after a while he
had to admit Snape wouldn't be very sorry at all.
And the prospect of an adventure did sound better than spending another
afternoon wanking to the magazine he'd stolen from Sirius and trying to look at
the women and not the men doing things to them. The house still stirred odd
feelings in him, and sometimes old memories would filter through, often of
shouting, but sometimes singing or laughing or a dog. He kept forgetting to ask
James if they'd had one.
Only the attic seemed devoid of such traps -- Sirius said he hadn't been
allowed up there as a child because of the biting dressmaker's dummy -- so
Harry set off for the stairs.
The attic held dozens of fascinating objects: books too violent for the
library; a telescope that bent around to peer at whomever tried to look through
it; a mirror that sometimes showed Harry with his aunt and uncle and cousin and
other times showed him with his parents and Sirius and Snape, which Sirius said
not to look into for too long. There were photos of Lily up there too, and
albums of James and Sirius and Uncle Peter at school. Not many of the pictures
had Snape in them (and when they did he had donkey ears or green polka-dotted
skin), but a tired-looking sandy-haired boy stood with the other three
sometimes.
Harry wandered through the dusty clutter, looking for the mace he'd found on
his last visit. He didn't feel like looking at his mother's smiling face, but
the dressmaker's dummy would duel with him if he let it wear the helmet.
A flash of silvery blue caught his eye before a chill swept down his spine.
"Hello? You'd better not bother me, or my father will have the REO sent
'round."
The ghost turned to look at him, and Harry bit back a scream. This was not
Gaius Saturninius with the small javelin hole under his arm, or Aunt Delilah
who was a bit puffy in the face from choking to death on a cauldron cake. This
ghost was a mess of silvery blood, from the gaping hole where one eye had been
to the cut ribbons of his fingers.
Harry scrambled back, and the ghost paced him, mouth open and glittering with
silver, soundless and sucking warmth from the air. "Stay back. You can't touch
me."
But what if Sirius was wrong? He hadn't mentioned this ghost, just like he
hadn't said anything about the dummy until after it bit Harry. What if this one
could hurt him?
He hesitated, and the ghost kept coming, opening his mouth like he wanted to
devour Harry, and Harry turned and ran all the way back to his room. He fell
back against the door, wondering if everything in this house was going to shock
or frighten or bite him, and wishing he were back on Privet Drive.
"Problem, dear? You look -- pardon the expression -- like you've seen a ghost."
Aunt Delilah chuckled.
"I have! In the attic."
"Oh, fiddlesticks." Aunt Delilah's kindly face hardened. "You've met our
interloper. He's haunting something in the attic, but the exorcists can't
figure out what. He can't hurt you, Harry dear. Gaius Saturninius and I will
have a chat with him, get him to let you alone."
"He... he had something in his mouth. I don't think he speaks."
"Silver sickle," Aunt Delilah said as though Harry ought to know. "I imagine he
was buried with one in his mouth. Keeps him from telling secrets he knew when
he was alive. Never fear, James will sort it out."
But James, when Harry mentioned it at dinner, didn't want to speak about it,
and sent for the exorcist the next day.
*****
Fifteen felt exactly the same as fourteen, only with presents. With their
birthdays so close together, Harry and Dudley couldn't help competing for the
most gifts (Harry had won only once, the year Lily died), but this year
quantity was lost to sheer exotic coolness.
Uncle Peter presented him with a wand, and Snape rolled his eyes because
everyone (except Harry) knew the wand chose the wizard. James exclaimed over it
since it was mahogany and dragon heartstring like his own, but it shot a jet of
sparks when Harry waved it, which made Sirius laugh and pound Peter on the back
and Snape shut up and look even more unpleasant.
Snape himself had brought a half dozen dull-looking books, and an old-fashioned
writing set with a quill and bottled ink. Sirius countered this practicality
with a broom. Harry puzzled on it and it took him a moment to get excited, but
once he realized it would fly he wanted to run out to the garden in his pyjamas
and try it.
During the gifts, opened over breakfast, Harry had been hearing a strange
muttering, and he discovered the source once James pushed a large box across
the table. When Harry lifted it, he found the weight uneven. It felt heavy, but
strangely hollow. He opened the lid to a blast of fresh sweet air, and saw the
reason for the spell coiled in the bottom.
"Too bright," the snake said. "Put the sky back at once, monkey."
Harry stared dumbfounded before he recovered himself enough to push the lid
back on, halfway in case the fresh-air spell was the kind that ran out. He
looked up to find James watching intently for his reaction. "Thank you, Dad."
"Well?"
"I've never had a talking snake before, though our kindy had a lizard that
could do backflips..." He trailed off as James crowed in triumph. Sirius and
Snape shared an uneasy glance, and they finished their breakfasts much more
subdued than they began, except for Peter, who seemed quietly pleased. Harry
thought about asking Sirius to teach him to fly, but the cooled atmosphere made
him summon Tongle to take the presents to his room instead.
After breakfast James brought out a dirty Frisbee that looked as though a dog
had been at it, and they all gathered around to touch the rim, even Snape,
though he looked sour about it. Harry closed his eyes and braced himself.
To his disappointment, the portkey deposited them directly in the Wizard Lord's
box high up in the stands, and he didn't get to walk through the crowd or see
the pitch close-up. He didn't think he would stop a policeman now, even if any
came to magical sporting events, but he wanted to find a public phone. His aunt
would be out of her head by now.
He had no chance to ask, for the box began to fill up with James's guests.
Harry recognized the Malfoys and the Longbottoms, and several other people from
the party. Both couples had boys Harry's age in tow, and everyone looked on
expectantly.
"Welcome back to the wizarding world," said the blond boy, Draco, as he bowed.
He was smirking when he straightened, and Harry remembered the mocking way
Lucius had spoken of Aunt Petunia at the party. The other boy snickered, but
sobered when Harry shot him a glare.
"Please to meet you," Harry said, and hoped his tone conveyed the opposite. The
adults had abandoned him to Draco and the Longbottoms' son, who then began
talking to each other with great familiarity about things Harry knew nothing
about. Neville's prefect badge, Draco's appointment as quidditch captain of the
house team, how many inches they each had on Professor Higgins' transfiguration
essay.
Harry sidled away from them, closer to where his father was speaking to Lucius.
"Dad," he murmured. "Is there anywhere I can ring Aunt Petunia? And may I get a
pennant for Dudley?"
"You should let the boy see his relatives, my lord," Lucius said, a small smile
hovering on his lips. "After all, they were so kind to take in him -- and his
mother."
"Yes," James said smoothly. "I'm glad they were there for him. I trust you and
your wife have discussed who would be your son's guardian should anything
happen to you, Lucius." The little smile slipped from Lucius's face. "I don't
believe you'd care for either of Narcissa's sisters to have him. "
"No, my lord. I have a second cousin in France--"
"Oh, come now." A strange and manic grin had settled over James's face. "Sirius
is right here in England, and he's closer blood."
"Black does not seem the fatherly type."
"Nonsense. He's terrific with Harry," James said brightly, and both Sirius and
Snape choked.
"The game is beginning," Snape said. He sounded as though he had swallowed
something vinegary, and Harry couldn't tell if it was the company or the fact
that James insisted he attend the game. He decided on the former, since Harry
didn't care for the company either and hoped Snape had attended more to please
Harry than because James asked. He moved towards his seat, but Neville caught
his arm.
"Don't sit with him," Neville hissed. "He's horrible; everyone says so. Sit
with us."
"No, thank you," Harry said coldly, and shook off the hand.
He managed to sit between Sirius and Snape for the game. He liked them better
than Neville or Draco, and besides, it made them reach around him if they
wanted to hold hands or anything mushy, which they didn't.
The team in yellow and black won, and James cheered loudly.
*****
The snake was called Iago, and it wasn't a talking snake at all, only an
ordinary python. No one but Harry could understand him, and Harry wondered how
that sort of spell worked. Did it affect his hearing, or just the snake's
speech? Harry could not understand the pigeons no matter how many he lured to
his sill with breadcrumbs, so he gathered it was the latter, but then why
couldn't Sirius understand?
Iago didn't care any more than Harry who had won the quidditch match, but
unlike Harry he didn't find the game itself fascinating.
"Flying monkeys," he muttered when Harry described maneuvers he couldn't name.
"Even birds have better sense than to fly upside down."
Harry sat down next to the heated rock now taking up a corner of his bedroom.
The old toys had been cleared out to make way for it, much to Aunt Delilah's
displeasure, and Harry found he missed the rocking horse. "You're a very bad-
tempered snake."
"I shall molt soon," Iago said, sounding happy for the first time since Harry
met him. "Then you'll see such a lovely bad temper. I'm sleepy now. Go and do
your monkey things."
"I'm sorry you don't have opposable thumbs," Harry said snidely, "but you
needn't harp on it."
While Iago watched and pretended to nap, Harry picked over the books Snape had
given him. He tried a few of the spells in them using the wand from Peter, but
none of them worked very well as he didn't understand some of the instructions
and didn't feel like reading from the beginning to find where he'd gone wrong.
He was just starting to wonder if it was late enough to go looking for Sirius
and Snape when someone knocked at his door. James always walked right in, and
Snape never came to his room, so Harry smoothed down his hair and straightened
his robe. Of course Sirius had come to say goodnight; it was still his
birthday.
It wasn't Sirius but James after all.
"Good, you're still dressed." James smiled, but he wasn't quite looking at
Harry. "I've one more present for you." A crooked finger beckoned, and Harry
slipped out with his father.
James led him along the corridor and down to the second floor, where he stopped
in front of a door and fiddled with his sleeves. "Sirius says I'm treating you
like a child."
Harry decided it would be more politic to not answer that when another present
was in the offing.
"Well then, this should make up for it." James opened the door and stepped back
to let Harry see the room beyond. A bedroom. And a very naked woman. James gave
him a sly if somewhat panicked smile, and nudged him towards the bed. "Happy
birthday, son."
Harry stared at the woman. She looked classy. Warm. Friendly. Sultry.
Expensive. Female. "Can I have anything -- anyone I want?" he heard himself
say, throat tight. "Someone else?"
"Of course." A subtle flick of James's fingers, and the whore dressed and left,
too high-class to even pout. "Would you, er, like a selection, or did you have
someone particular in mind? An old school friend maybe?"
Harry tried not to think of how James might arrange for one of the girls at
Smeltings to put out for him. "No, nothing like that. Just... Snape." James
only looked confused. "I'd like Snape. Please."
"What would you want with him?"
Harry flushed. "The same thing you wanted me to do with the whore."
"If you want a man," James began, scowling.
"I want Snape." It would be greedy to ask for Sirius too. "May I have Sirius as
well?"
James sat down on the bed rather too quickly. "Sirius you will have to ask." He
paused. "And you must ask Snape, I suppose. If this is what you want... I
promise I... I won't have them killed if they say yes."
"Killed?"
"I would have," James said, a frown creasing his brow, "if they had touched you
when you watched them."
"You know about that? Wait, do they know about that?"
James had recovered enough composure to grin. "I know everything. And you're
not likely to put much past those two. Are you sure you want them? I can get
you a boy your own age..."
His chest felt tight, but the swirling excitement in his stomach quickly
overcame his unease. His father really was the most powerful wizard ever. "No.
This is what I want."
*****
The most annoying part about James's insistence that his most trusted
supporters make free of his home was that they were expected to use the
facilities on occasion. And that put them right in the way of James's attention
-- and more recently, Harry's chatter.
"What must I do prevent you from pestering me while I'm working?" Severus asked
when Harry walked in, even before the boy had opened his mouth.
"Lock the door?"
"Foolish boy. Never lock the door when working with dangerous substances. At
least not when there is someone around who cares to get you medical aid should
your calculations be off."
Harry ignored this sound advice, and wandered the room, touching things he
shouldn't. "Dad gave me another present," he said after a while. At the
fidgeting that accompanied the announcement and the lack of subsequent
boasting, Severus thought at once of the bear Sirius had bemoaned.
"You should be grateful your father gives you gifts."
Harry's cheeks darkened. "He told you? Oh. I, er... I guess wizards are
more..." He made a rolling gesture with one hand. "...more open about sex? I
can't imagine Uncle Vernon got Dudley a whore for his birthday."
Severus brought the dragon's blood off the heat and snapped his full attention
to the boy.
"She was nice, only I don't know that I want her... type, exactly," Harry
continued. "So will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Oh." Harry's flush deepened. "He hasn't told you then. Erm. Well. I kinda
asked for you instead of the whore."
He'd been correct to take the blood off the heat. Every thought flew from his
head, and he couldn't remember his middle name let alone the next stage of the
potion.
"Only Dad said I have to ask you."
"James has approved this request?" The tightness in Severus's chest eased at
Harry's nod, and the prospect of having to flee the wrath of the most powerful
wizard in Britain faded before it fully formed. James's wishes meant Severus's
refusal would require a delicate balance of tact and --
"All right," he found himself saying.
"Really?"
Severus thought of the first day he'd seen Harry grown, the easy way he had
shrugged off the Imperius curse. Warmth pooled in his belly. "I'm not in the
habit of agreeing to do something only to retract my word three seconds later."
Harry grinned, and then narrowed his eyes. "What about Sirius?" Severus raised
an eyebrow. "I mean... don't you want to talk to him about it first? Make sure
he doesn't mind?"
The eyebrow went up another notch. "I have no inclination to discuss my
activities with Black."
"But... I thought you and Sirius--"
"Were lovers? It's just sex, my ignorant little lordling."
Harry looked as though he would like to contradict this. "You call him Black
instead of Sirius," he said instead. "Don't you like him?"
"He likes me." Severus moved the dragon's blood back onto the heat before it
was ruined. "That's enough."
Harry pondered this long enough for Severus to hope the conversation was done.
"I think you do like him. Or maybe you just like that he likes you." The brat
laughed.
"Indeed. I must like him, to let him suck my cock."
Instead of flustering him, the word brought the boy's chin out. "Does he suck
my dad's cock?"
"Occasionally," Severus drawled, enjoying Harry's sudden blush. Not so bold,
after all. But then his better sense informed him he had best keep on the
heir's good side, and he relented. "Your father hasn't trusted many since Lily
stole you from him and a close friend betrayed him. Black is the only one James
fully trusts. I suppose that has a certain... appeal."
"You call my father James."
"Of course. I'm not sleeping with him."
"I don't understand any of this." Harry looked affronted at his own ignorance.
"Would you suck my cock?"
Severus froze. "That depends. Is that a question or an order?"
"Which one would make you do it?"
"It's rude to answer a question with a question." Severus sniffed to cover the
sudden interest growing between his legs. "And your first lesson with Pettigrew
began six minutes ago."
Harry yelped and ran for the door. He paused there and cast Severus a look that
was part inept slyness, part bashfulness, part heat. "Tonight then."
He was gone before Severus could pretend he wouldn't rearrange his schedule for
a Potter.
*****
Sirius left his door open and made sure his desk was as clear as it ever got,
and Harry sailed into his office after his tutoring session with Peter, right
on cue.
"Whatever you've just learned, you're not practicing it on me," Sirius said at
once.
"Magic is fantastic!" Harry hoped up on the desk and sat kicking his feet
against the drawers. A hippogriff could have flown through his grin. "I
levitated a feather today, and Uncle Peter," and here Harry wrinkled his nose
at the name Peter had insisted on, "said I'm not to practice on anything
heavier than fifty grams, so you're safe."
Sirius eyed him in mock wariness. "You're fifteen and you have a wand. A
rampaging erumpent wouldn't be safe."
Harry laughed, though Sirius could tell he didn't know what an erumpent was. "I
didn't come here to practice on you, anyway. I came to ask you something. Would
you sleep with me?"
Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Er. If you're asking if you're
attractive, well, I don't think you'll ever lack for birds at your door. So
hypothetically, yes, I'd sleep with you, and be right smug to have pulled you."
He ruffled his godson's hair.
"Thanks, Sirius. But what about non-hypothetically?" The trainers Harry refused
to throw away squealed against the teak and he stared at Sirius with a dogged
ingenuousness.
"Are you... propositioning me?"
"Does that mean asking you to have sex with me? Yeah, I guess. I've asked Dad
and he says it's up to you. So will you?"
Sirius rubbed the bridge of his nose, suddenly wishing he hadn't cleared his
desk. "I think I've missed something. Can you start at the beginning?"
"I didn't want the woman Dad hired for me--"
"He what?"
"Bought me a whore for my birthday."
Sirius collapsed back in his chair, and almost overturned the damned thing. "I
don't believe him!"
"He said it was your idea."
"My--! Merlin's balls in a cauldron."
"I didn't mean to upset you," Harry said. "Maybe I should have explained more
first. It's just that Snape agreed pretty quickly so I thought you'd be easier
to--"
"Snape. Agreed. You asked him, too?"
"Yeah. Um. I asked for both of you." Harry peeked up at him from under his
fringe. "Is that all right?"
"Bit late to be asking my opinion." Sirius didn't know which of them he wanted
to kill first, James or Snape. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's a bit much to hear at
once."
Harry was quiet a moment, letting Sirius think. Only his thoughts preferred to
chase their tails 'round and 'round until he was dizzy.
"Are you upset because I asked Snape or because he said yes?" Harry asked after
Sirius began to feel he might like to hyperventilate a bit.
"Both, a bit."
Harry scowled. "Most of the time you don't seem to like each other much. You
don't treat each other very nicely anyway. And Uncle Peter said none of you
liked Snape in school."
Sirius sighed and propped his head on his hand, elbow planted on the desk. "If
you befriend someone no one else likes, you don't just gain the man's
friendship. You gain his soul."
"I shouldn't think I'd like someone's soul," Harry said after a moment's
consideration. "I might do something awful with it."
"Well." Sirius sat back. "Snape saved you and James. And Lily, I suppose. He
told us Voldemort was going to go after you, so your dad was prepared to fight
him. So I reckon I shan't do anything that awful to Snape."
"So it's all gratitude?"
"Yes. Frequent sweaty mind-blowing expressions of gratitude." Harry looked as
though he would like to contradict this, so Sirius leaned over and kissed him.
"I accept your outlandish request for a birthday fuck, if only to encourage
your audacity."
"You'll do it?" Harry lost interest in Snape at once.
"Yes. I could never resist your father's barmy ideas, so why should yours be
any different?"
*****
Harry checked his teeth. Then he checked his hair. Then he cupped his hand in
front of his mouth and blew gently, checking his breath. Then he rearranged all
the pillows on the bed of the guest room he'd chosen, and lit all the candles.
Then he decided it was too bright and put out half of them.
Then he checked his teeth again.
"You're late," he said when Sirius came in, more nervous than accusing.
Sirius's shirt was open to his navel, and it made Harry feel warm just looking
at the V of skin and the dark crisp hair curling there, trailing into a thin
line the lower it went.
"It's your own fault." Sirius sounded sulky. "You forgot to mention to yon
glowering wonder--" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Snape, who had
entered on his heels and was indeed glowering. "--that it would be the three of
us. An oversight for which I am somehow to blame."
Harry bit his lip, and looked from Sirius to Snape. They were glaring at each
other.
"You could have informed me," Snape said.
"Like you told me?" Sirius snarled. "Thought it was going to be just you and
him, eh? Ol' Sirius need never know."
"Stop it," Harry said. "It's my fault for not telling him I was going to ask
you, too." Neither one seemed impressed with this. "Can't you just kiss and
make up?"
"I believe I'd rather kiss you," Sirius said, and he was at Harry's side in an
eyeblink, arm around his waist, shooting Snape a glare over his shoulder. Snape
snorted, but he moved into the room and toed off his shoes as he called for
Tongle.
Warm lips captured Harry's, and he forgot about Snape under the flex and tug of
Sirius's mouth. Sirius broke away to correct Snape's order of wine, muttering
about large noses and their inexplicable lack of judgment. Harry, peeking
around Sirius's body, thought Snape's expression more amused than offended, and
relaxed.
Sirius sat on the bed and pulled Harry onto his lap to nibble on his neck until
Tongle returned with a tray. "Sauvignon blanc," Sirius murmured close to his
ear, and showed him how to swirl, sniff, and sip. "Hold it on your tongue. Roll
it. Savour it, like I'm going to savour you."
The wine slid down Harry's throat, velvety smooth like Sirius's words. One of
Sirius's hands held his glass, the other lay on Harry's stomach, fingers
splayed. Snape watched from the wingback chair across from them, and didn't
swirl or sniff but went straight to sipping. Harry could feel the prickle of
Sirius staring over his shoulder at Snape.
"Not all of us had the benefit of a... cultured childhood," Snape said.
"Bastard," Sirius shot back, though he didn't seem angry any longer, and Snape
raised his glass.
"Only by a few months."
"How do you want to...?" Harry asked, squirming on Sirius's lap. The wine made
him feel hot. Or perhaps it was the small circles Sirius's hand made, sliding
Harry's robe across his stomach.
"This is your present," Sirius said. "What do you want us to do?"
"And don't play ignorant, my little prince," Snape added. "You've watched us
enough to know the mechanics."
"I know I shouldn't have..."
"Potter," Snape growled.
"I want to have Sirius."
"Fuck me, Harry," Sirius said. "You want to fuck me. Would you like either of
us to fuck you?" Sirius cupped Harry through his robe as he said this, so that
Harry couldn't answer for a moment, all of his concentration on not coming into
the hand fondling him.
"I... Doesn't it hurt?"
"It's lovely." Sirius lipped his earlobe. "Why do you think I bottom so much?"
"Because you're a selfish greedy prick," Snape said, and Sirius didn't dispute
this.
"You don't have to decide right now, Harry. We can do other things... Are you
planning on joining us, Snape, or are you going to watch from the other side of
the room?"
Snape set down his glass and prowled over. He dropped to his knees and pushed
both Sirius and Harry's legs apart, and pressed himself against Harry's body.
They kissed over his shoulder. He saw pink flashes of tongue, and bucked his
hips against Snape's stomach. Sirius snaked an arm around his waist and
reseated Harry on his lap, squarely over the growing hardness. They parted with
a wet sound.
"Tell me what you want to do with him," Sirius breathed.
"Teach him to beg for my cock, like you do," Snape said at once, and though
Sirius snorted, his erection surged against Harry's arse.
"In a bit, maybe. Suck him off for now, before he bursts. Harry, stand up now.
Good boy." Sirius guided him to stand with one knee on the bed while Snape
unbuttoned Harry's robes. He hadn't worn any underthings, and was glad when
Sirius ran admiring hands down his bare flanks. "Steady now," Sirius said, and
kissed the small of his back as Snape kissed his belly, and Harry whimpered.
They didn't stop, either of them, and went lower, mouthing him, licking,
sucking kisses against his skin. Snape reached his cock at the same time Sirius
reached his arse and neither paused. Harry's thigh muscles trembled, and four
hands came up to support him as Snape sucked in his cock and Sirius's tongue
plunged between his arse cheeks.
"Oh God," Harry moaned, and swayed back against the hand Sirius had at the
small of his back. Wet heat surrounded him, engulfing one side and probing the
other, meeting at his bollocks and quibbling over them like dogs. He clutched
at Snape's head, and the sucking heat returned to his cock as though at his
command, and the wet tongue slipped back, thrust inside him, and he came and
came until the only things holding him up were his lovers' hands.
And still they kept at him, as if he were a tasty treat.
"Stop." He tugged at Snape's head, trying to pry him from his oversensitive
cock, but neither man would listen. He began to harden again, despite feeling
like he could crawl out of his skin from the sensation.
Sirius pulled away at last, but after a short pause something colder and harder
replaced his tongue at Harry's hole. Fingers, two of them, slick with something
that smelled faintly of almonds. They pushed inside him, leaving Harry feeling
full and fighting the urge to expel them.
"That's it," Sirius whispered, breath hot against Harry's hip. "Push back." The
fingers crooked and Harry gasped and bucked into Snape's mouth as a thousand
mini-orgasms ran up his spine.
He could feel Sirius smirk against his skin.
"Up. On the bed," Snape rasped, pulling away. Harry could see his cock, heavy
and purple, where Snape had undone his robes to stroke himself. Sirius's
fingers slipped free as Snape pushed Harry to the bed and rolled him onto his
back. Sirius produced a small pot half-full of a clear potion, and Snape
stroked some onto his cock.
Harry reached for Sirius (because Harry wanted him, not because he was scared,
no), and his godfather stripped and slipped onto the bed behind him. The bed
dipped with his weight, rocking Harry back, and Sirius caught his legs and
pulled them close to his chest. He could see Snape through his own thighs,
touching himself, watching them with heavy-lidded greed.
Sirius kissed him, tongue probing and so insistent Harry almost didn't notice
the bed dip again. Snape's naked thighs against his own snapped his attention
away from Sirius, until Sirius caught his chin and forced Harry to look up at
him.
"He's so good at this, Harry. You'll love it."
Snape was pushing in before Harry could make Sirius promise. He stiffened. It
wasn't going to fit. He could feel the head pressing against him, too large,
too insistent. Then the resistance collapsed under the slick assault, and the
thick cock drove into him.
"All right, it's okay, shh," Sirius murmured. "Feels strange, I know."
Harry took a shaky breath. It didn't hurt, but it felt strange, yes, unbearably
so. "I don't like it."
"Give it a minute," Sirius said, and looked away over Snape's shoulder.
Snape had his jaw clenched, and he was watching Sirius. At last Sirius nodded,
and Snape rolled his hips in a slow gentle thrust. Harry's breath hitched, and
relaxed a fraction. The motion made it easier to bear.
"All right now?"
Harry nodded, and then cried out as Snape struck the same something Sirius had
found with his fingers. Sirius chuckled and slapped the back of Harry's thigh.
He turned on the bed so he lay the opposite way, and propped himself up on one
elbow, watching Snape's cock slide in and out of Harry's body from his new
vantage. And then he leaned over and caught the tip of Harry's cock in his
mouth.
"God!" Harry turned his head on instinct, nuzzling between Sirius's legs. He
didn't know which way was up, with so many sensations assaulting him. "Do
I...?"
"Only if you want to," Sirius said. "But don't bring me off yet." He went back
to sucking Harry's cock.
Harry writhed, and then tried to hold still when Snape growled at him. Neither
of them made it easy for him; Sirius's mouth and Snape's cock seemed determined
to drive him mad. The tension in him grew and grew, and he knew it had to snap,
wanted it to snap, but it would only coil tighter and tighter, until at last it
broke on a perfectly coordinated lick from Sirius just as Snape thrust hard.
Harry arched off the bed as much as he could, spurting into Sirius's mouth.
He lay panting while Sirius sat up and kissed Snape, openmouthed, and he moaned
as his own come trickled out of their joined mouths.
Snape's hips jerked once, twice, and then held while his eyelashes fluttered
and his pulse jumped at his throat, tendons taut as Sirius licked his parted
lips.
Things had gone decidedly squelchy down there, and Harry decided it was over.
Snape had come inside him.
"Good?" Sirius asked, resting his head on Snape's shoulder and looking down at
Harry.
Harry managed a weak grin. "Yeah."
They curled up on the bed with Harry in the middle, sharing kisses with him and
over his head. Sirius hadn't come yet, and his erection bumped Harry's hip as
though urging him to turn over. Eventually the roaming hands and kisses and
Sirius's unerring excitement stiffened Harry's cock again. He swore never to
bemoan his endless stock of erections again.
"Still want to fuck your old godfather?" Sirius whispered into his ear.
"I'm not sure I can," Harry said, flushing half over admitting it and half
because Snape was rolling one of his nipples with single-minded fascination.
"It's not hard--"
"And you don't have to worry about pleasing him," Snape said, not looking up
from Harry's nipple. "If it can reach his prostate, Black will fuck it and be
happy."
"What if it doesn't reach?"
"What if my co--"
"My cock alright? What if my cock doesn't reach?"
Sirius laughed and kissed his nose. "Don't worry, it will."
"I'm sure Black knows the distance to the millimeter."
Sirius punched Snape on the arm.
Harry knelt behind Sirius, since Sirius had decided it would be the easiest
position for Harry. Snape seemed content to observe from the other side of the
bed, smoking a cigarette and drinking the last of the sauvignon blanc.
Pushing in, Harry was glad he had been bottom first. He had a better idea of
what Sirius was feeling and where to aim, and he'd already come twice so there
was no chance of embarrassing himself.
Halfway through he felt confident enough to fumble for Sirius's cock, but
Sirius slapped his hand away.
"Come, Harry. That's it, inside me, fucking me."
Harry groaned and his orgasm trembled out of him, weak but nerve-melting. He
lay panting against Sirius's back, drowsing but feeling he'd forgotten
something. "You haven't yet."
"You haven't come yet. Don't be afraid of the words, Harry." Sirius kissed his
forehead. "And I've got it covered... Snape?" Sirius said something to low for
Harry to hear, and then the world swayed and he snuggled into a strong pair of
arms, a steady heartbeat in his ear lulling him to sleep.
*****
"All right, you sodding bastard," Sirius said after Snape left, Harry in his
arms. "We've taken very good care of him, now come out from under that thing."
A section of the wall rippled, and a curtain of nothingness cascaded down,
leaving James leaning against the wall with his robes undone and one hand
inside.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Enjoyed that, did you?"
"You have no idea..."
"James, that's your son. I thought you were just making sure we weren't too
rough with him."
"... how incredible you looked together."
"James."
"All three of you like that..."
Sirius gave up and walked on his knees to the end of the bed, and James met him
there. They kissed, and then leant together, forehead to forehead. Sirius
cupped James's face. "What am I to do with you, my lord?"
"You're going to lay down and let me suck his come out of your arse."
Sirius rolled James's sac in his palm, and tried to hide his dismay at the
intensity of James's reaction.
It would gall him to no end if Lupin had had the nerve to be right.
*****
Harry woke in his own bed, clean and dressed in gold pyjamas. If not for the
ache in his backside and the absence of cooling spunk in his pants he might
have thought the previous night a vivid wet dream. He stretched and smiled up
at his ceiling and decided to head down to breakfast.
The dining room was shockingly routine. James sat chatting with a visiting Mrs
Diggory over coffee and notes, Snape had bogarted the tea pot and was brooding
over it, Sirius was building a tower of waffles, and Lucius had just arrived
through the floo with a house elf toting a box of papers at his heels.
"Have some tea, Malfoy," Sirius said, not looking up from his tower. "Morning,
Harry."
Lucius shot Snape a cool look. "I think not." He went to stand by the window,
as though he weren't waiting for James's attention.
"Good morning, Sirius," Harry said, and earned a warm smile. It eased some of
his discomfort, and he slid into the chair next to Sirius. No one braved
Snape's company before he was properly caffeinated.
"Did you sleep well?" Sirius asked.
"Oh yes." Harry pressed his leg against Sirius's under the table. It pressed
back briefly, then withdrew.
"Mmm, well I hope you enjoyed your present."
A plate of eggs and bacon appeared on the table in front of Harry, and he
picked up his fork, wondering why flirting with men -- men he'd had terrific
sex with only hours before -- wasn't any easier than flirting with girls.
"I trust you're not planning on eating that, Black," Snape said, coming more
awake. "I don't want to listen to you moaning about a bellyache all day."
"Are you staying at the Hollow again, then?" Sirius asked, and Harry perked up.
"I know we've been keeping you from your work the last few months."
"I was very close to capturing Shacklebolt before Pettigrew asked me to try
Privet Drive again." Snape sniffed as though offended.
"What made him think the Fidelius charm had faded? It was a week early."
"Something about the school owls wanting to send a Hogwarts letter to Harry. In
any case you have your brat and Shacklebolt is no doubt snug in the deepest
hidey-hole Britain has to offer."
"What about Privet Drive?" Harry asked, anxious to steer the conversation back
to the part that concerned him.
"Just the spell that kept us from finding you all these years." Sirius ruffled
his hair, and Harry pulled away, annoyed. "The Secret Keeper Lily chose died,
and it takes a good six months for the spell to fade after that. If Lily had
lived she would have had plenty of time to move you and find a new Secret
Keeper, and we would have lost you for good."
The eggs cooled in Harry's stomach, and he fiddled with his fork. He wished he
could make himself hate his mother, but she'd been gone too long.
Sirius had moved on to pressing Snape for his plans for the day.
"I don't know why it's your business, but I'm attending a conference on
extramundane transfiguration." Snape glared down at his cup, then glanced at
Harry and then away again. "But if you would care to join me afterwards,
Sirius, you may."
"I didn't know you were interested in transfiguration theory," Sirius said,
sliding down several seats towards Snape, away from Harry.
"I'm not. One of the presenters has some information for me." Their heads
pressed together and their voices lowered. Harry stared at Sirius's abandoned
breakfast. He suddenly wasn't hungry any more.
"Tsk, tsk," Lucius said from where he stood waiting for James to finish with
Mrs Diggory. "Birthday's over, so it's back to the box until they need their
heir again, is it?"
"No," Harry said shortly, and stabbed at his eggs.
"Come. Walk with me, sir." Harry started at the title, but Lucius didn't seem
to be taking the mickey. "You," he snapped at the house elf. "Inform me the
moment Lord James is available." He offered Harry his arm, but Harry stalked
past him.
"It is difficult adjusting to a new station," Lucius said as he caught up. He
took Harry's arm anyway, and led him at an easy stroll through the house. "I
myself have had disruptions in my standing in the past. Be grateful the wheel
has seen fit to turn your fortune for the better this time."
Harry had had enough of gratitude, but didn't say so.
Lucius didn't seem to mind his silence, and rambled on about wizards and
bloodlines and the importance of knowing one's place, and it was only when he
asked after Harry's education that Harry stopped sulking.
Harry offered a few comments on his lessons with Peter, and though Lucius
responded, Harry felt he didn't truly care.
"So, you like magic." Lucius indicated a door and Harry recognized Sirius's
office. Harry turned the knob, knowing it would open for him even if it was
locked, and it did. Inside, Lucius opened a few cupboards and drawers with the
head of his cane, seemingly at random, and Harry began to regret letting him
in. "Have your guardians been educating you on the wonders of life as a
wizard?"
"Yes," Harry said, but Lucius continued as though he hadn't spoken.
"This, for instance." The snake-headed cane opened a cabinet, and silvery light
poured out. Lucius ran the cane's head over a stone basin from which the light
streamed. "Have you seen one before?"
Harry shook his head, entranced despite himself.
"It's a pensieve," Lucius said. "It holds memories more detailed than the
conscious mind can recall. I believe this one is your godfather's." He was
watching Harry with that little smirk again, and Harry felt like every detail
of the night before was written on his skin.
The house elf appeared then, bobbing and stuttering, and Lucius swept out with
the creature in tow, leaving Harry alone in the rippling silver light.
*****
Harry didn't recognize the room, but thought it looked like the shady plastic
surgeon's office in one of Dudley's favourite films. The man on the table could
certainly use a plastic surgeon, but it wasn't until Harry noticed the straps
binding the man that he realized a doctor was the least likely person to walk
through the door.
"Hello?" Harry said, but the man didn't acknowledge him, only continued his
slow shallow breathing. He wore nothing but filthy shorts, and his torso was
mottled with bruises. He was blinking rapidly at the overhead light. "Hello?"
Harry tried again. He reached for one of the straps, but the buckle wouldn't
give, and neither would the leather. A cloth left crumpled on the table felt
carved from stone.
Harry shivered, wondering what sort of horrible memory this was and why Sirius
kept it.
The door opened and Sirius came in, Snape shadowing him. Harry moved out of the
way so Sirius could let the man go, but Sirius stopped at the foot of the
table. Snape continued around to the side, and busied himself at the counter.
"Hi there, Moony old chum," Sirius said, and Harry knew he wasn't there to let
the man go.
Moony's eyes rolled down to peer down the length of his body. "Sir'us."
Sirius grinned then, a smile that sent a shiver down Harry's spine, and climbed
onto the table to sit on the man's chest. "Awake again, I see. Shall we pick up
where we left off, or do you need a minute?"
"Don't know where she is, I don't."
"Where we left off then," Sirius said cheerfully, but there was a hard edge to
his voice. Harry might have called it angry or hurt or frightened, but all of
those mixed together to form a frighteningly mad Sirius. "You know, we never
did find the spy in the old Order. How long have you had the knife in James's
back, Moony?"
"Never hurt James, Sir'us. Please."
"Snape."
Snape perused the shelf of vials over the counter and then selected one and
brought it over to Sirius. Sirius checked the label and nodded, and Snape
upended the vial over one of the man's eyes.
He shrieked and arched off the table, and Sirius rode his body easily. Harry
clapped a hand over his mouth as the potion fizzed and bubbled in the eye
socket.
"Just a few little words, Moony," Sirius crooned. "Just tell us where the bitch
took Harry. Is it her sister? It's her sister, isn't it. Muggles don't just
vanish like that, not from wizards, not unless they're protected. Just say the
words and let your old friends take care of everything. Where are they, Moony?"
"I don't know, I don't know," Moony moaned. "It's not me, Pad--"
Sirius punched him, and Harry heard the crunch as his nose broke. "Don't
fucking call me that, Moony."
"Don't kill him before he speaks, Black."
Sirius ignored Snape, and leaned in close to Moony. "Full moon's in a few
days," Sirius whispered, stroking the man's hair. "Don't make me find a sweet
innocent little girl to lock in here with you when you change into a monster."
It was only Snape rolling his eyes from the shadows that stopped Harry from
puking on the memory of a dirty floor. Sirius was bluffing. He had to be.
Moony didn't think he was. Tears trickled from his remaining eye. "Don'd know,
Sir'us. Nod me. Neber hurd James."
Sirius sat back and held out a hand. Harry didn't wait for Snape to hand him
the knife.
He tumbled onto the floor of Sirius's office, shaking, dry-mouthed. One part of
him attacked the memory of what he had just seen, attempting to rationalize,
justify, excuse, dismiss. Nothing he thought of dimmed the sound of Moony's
screams ringing in his head.
He sat on the floor with his head in his hands, legs feeling worse than they
did when Peter showed him the jelly-legs jinx.
Maybe Lucius lied about what the pensieve did.
Maybe it hadn't been Sirius.
Maybe the man called Moony deserved it.
Harry hardly moved for ages, and when he stood up his body had forgotten how to
walk, and he clung to Sirius's desk, remembering how awful Snape had been when
he first arrived at the Dursleys' house. How could Harry have forgotten his
family?
He stumbled out to the corridor with the vague idea of finding Sirius, or
Snape. But Snape was at his conference, and Sirius had probably gone too, just
because Snape had called him by his given name. His feet carried him out to the
garden, and the fresh air calmed some of his turmoil until he spotted James
strolling along a path, speaking to someone Harry couldn't see.
"Has he had any more dreams?"
"None that I know of, but it's hard to tell with you monkeys."
Harry stiffened, and lowered his gaze. Iago was winding through the grass.
"I'm not even sure what you want me to watch for," Iago continued. "He doesn't
talk to himself, and I can't understand your paper talking."
"Writing."
"And anyway that stays there long after the speaker has gone, so you can look
at it yourself."
With a jolt, Harry realized James was speaking to the snake the same way Harry
did. James spotted Harry then, and grinned and waved him over. "Looking a
little rough this morning, Harry."
"Yeah." The memories of the previous night felt dirty now. Iago had vanished
into the flower beds, and Harry hoped he'd step on the little sneak. He fell
into step with James, mouth dry. "Dad? Who was Moony?"
"A friend." James's voice was too breezy. He didn't know. He couldn't know. "A
friend I shouldn't have trusted for as long as I did." James brushed Harry's
fringe back, exposing his scar. He looked at it fondly. "But that was all taken
care of months ago. You needn't worry about him."
"I just..."
"Peter hasn't been telling you stories, has he?"
"No."
"Good." James stroked his hair again, and led him over to a bench under a
trellis. Roses swarmed up the latticework and over their heads. "Harry... I
want you to be careful of who you trust. Me and Sirius, we're the only people
who will put your interests above our own. People in our position can trust
someone who doesn't live and die for us. Ordinary people can, but not us."
"What are we?" Harry asked as his father tilted his chin up with the tip of his
finger.
"Kings, Harry." Hazel eyes bored into him, green rings with centers so deeply
brown they were almost red.
He didn't want to be a king. "Can't I trust Snape?"
"No. He's here because it makes him feel good about himself to be our friend."
"Uncle Peter?"
"Especially not Peter. Listen, Harry. You mustn't tell anyone else this. Not
Sirius, not Severus. Don't even let on to Peter that you know. A very long time
ago Peter nearly betrayed us. If he hadn't, we all would have died."
"But... you let him teach me!" Harry said. "He stays at the house!"
"I keep many people I don't trust close to me, so I can watch them. Like Lucius
Malfoy. Sometimes I keep them so close they don't know I don't trust them. Like
Snape. Like Peter." James sighed and leaned back, his arm around Harry's
shoulders. "Peter once worked for Voldemort, but when Voldemort planned to kill
us Peter couldn't let him. He told me, Harry. He warned me Voldemort was coming
that night, and I was able to kill him instead. Old magic, Harry." James looked
very far away, and Harry's scar tingled. "Sacrificial magic."
"What did you sacrifice?"
James shook himself. "Nothing you need to concern-- you're bleeding, What
happened?"
Harry touched his forehead, and stared at his red fingertips. "Must have cut
myself on the thorns."
"Run along and ask Tongle for a potion for it." James handed him a handkerchief
for the blood, and they both stood up.
"Dad?"
James paused and looked back at him.
"Aunt Petunia's all right, isn't she?"
In the moment of absolute blankness before James smiled, Harry knew she wasn't.
"Of course, son."
*****
The attic didn't feel so comforting anymore. The dressmaker's dummy no longer
frightened him, but the stacks of photo albums and their smiling faces did.
"Moony?" Harry wet his lips. "I know you're still here. The exorcist couldn't
find the thing you're haunting. I want to talk to you is all." He paused. "I
saw happened to you in Sirius's pensieve."
The ghost-came out of the dressmaker's dummy at once, his silvery wounds both
more and less disturbing for knowing how he got them. He opened his mouth, and
Harry could see the coin lying on his tongue.
"I know. You can't talk."
As before the ghost drifted closer. Harry backed up a step, then made himself
stop, but the ghost kept coming, until Harry could feel the chill on his skin.
His eyes flew shut to block out the gaping eye socket.
Chills swept up and down his body, and he realized the ghost was trying to feel
him. He opened his eyes in time for the insubstantial hands to cup his cheeks.
He forced himself to endure, even though he could see bits of bone in the
ragged fingertips.
"I'm all right. No one's hurt me." His voice shook. "That's what you wanted,
right? To keep me safe with my mom?"
Moony didn't pause in his examination, but kept pawing at him.
"I'm afraid James has done something to my aunt and uncle and cousin," Harry
said, and that made the ghost pause, and then retreat. Harry followed. "He says
I can't trust anyone but him and Sirius, but he hasn't left me with anyone
else! I'm not even allowed to trust Snape or Uncle Peter!"
The ghost wrung his hands together, and scurried deeper into the attic. Harry
followed, climbing over trunks and rolled-up carpets and ancient brooms.
"Wait! I need to talk to you."
Moony paused, hovering over a small bit of paper lodged between the wall and
the floorboards. Harry pulled it out and turned it over.
Peter, at no more than Harry's age, waved shyly from the glossy paper. James
had written Wormtail on the back, and underneath scrawled in Sirius's
handwriting, was owes me four galleons, the fucker.
"This is it?" Harry asked. "This is what you're haunting?"
Moony froze, watching him with one wide eye. Harry pocketed the photograph, and
Moony's consternation only confirmed his guess. "Thanks, Moony. I reckon I
should talk to Uncle Peter, no matter what James says. He's the only one who
hasn't done horrible things." Harry turned to leave, and the ghost gave chase,
agitated now that Harry was leaving with the object that kept him tied to the
physical plain.
"I'll be careful with it, I promise."
The ghost only bared broken teeth at him, and fled back into the dressmaker's
dummy.
*****
It was later in the day than Harry thought, and he was late to his lesson.
Peter didn't seem to mind, and picked up that Harry wasn't in the mood for
magical theory.
"We're still looking for a permanent tutor for you," he said, putting away the
lesson Harry hadn't even tried to understand. "James is being very choosy about
who will have that kind of access to you."
"Yeah," Harry grunted. "I know."
"Chafing?"
"I want to see my aunt."
Peter observed him for a moment. "Why don't we go somewhere a little less
stuffy to chat? We'll have tea at my place." Peter tossed a handful of floo
powder at the fireplace. "Hogwarts, headmaster's office."
Harry let out a shaky breath. Moony had been right; he could trust Peter.
The headmaster's office was a warm and soothing place. A few magic devices
rested here and there, and the portraits on the walls were snoring. Peter went
to a magnificently plumed bird which was dozing on a large perch and stroked
its cheek. The bird trilled a sleepy greeting, and cocked its head at Harry.
A house elf came and went as Harry sat down in one of the comfortable
armchairs, and she left tea and lemon biscuits behind. "You were wondering
about your aunt."
"She's dead, isn't she."
"I imagine so." Harry's throat closed up and Peter sighed. "James has become
less forgiving of defiance to his will over the years. You have to understand
that he was a hero after he defeated Voldemort. A legend. People worshipped
him, and James... well, James was always the type to let that sort of thing go
to his head. It was the one thing your mother couldn't stand about him, but she
put up with it, hoping her James would come back." Peter shook his head, almost
to himself, and poured the tea. "She never understood that our James was the
real thing."
"I should never have believed him," Harry whispered. His throat was stinging
and if he blinked he knew he was going to cry.
"Petunia knew the risks when she agreed to take you and Lily," Peter said over
his teacup. "I made sure she understood every possibility."
Harry's eyes widened, and the tears splashed free unheeded. "It was you! You,
not Moony. You betrayed my father."
"I saved you," Peter said calmly. "And Lily too. I got her the portkey out of
the Hollow, and I was your Secret Keeper all these years so you didn't have to
grow up with a father who didn't care if he killed you to make you stronger.
Harry... your father gave you that scar."
"No." His stomach flipped, but he could already hear his mother screaming. Stop
it, James! Have you gone mad? "You're lying."
"It's true. He took the notion that some of Voldemort's power had transferred
to him, and he wanted his heir to have it, too. Harry, he almost killed you.
And Sirius held Lily back while he did it."
Blinding pain in his head, blinding pain in his heart. Fathers weren't supposed
to hurt their sons. Sickening jolt of a portkey, mother's arms shaking around
him, terrified round face to greet them. Later a man with a long white beard
had spoken with Lily, and then the round-faced man took them to live at Privet
Drive, where Lily had snapped a stick that wasn't her wand in front of Aunt
Petunia, and things Harry hadn't understood were forgiven.
"And it's true, Harry." Peter's eyes were bright and small and fixed on him
like Harry was the answer to all of his prayers. "You do have some of his power
-- James's stunt with the snake proved that. Voldemort was a parselmouth -
- someone who could speak to snakes -- and James certainly wasn't before."
Harry remembered Iago spying on him and reporting to James. He really didn't
have anyone left. "Moony's ghost showed me a picture of you. I thought it meant
I could trust you."
"Ah." Peter set the astrolabe on his desk spinning. "I doubt he meant it that
way. It's that sickle James had him buried with. Poor Remus has been trying to
tell James who really betrayed him since I slipped in and gave him an overdose
of the draught of living death while Sirius's back was turned, before they
decided Remus wasn't really Lily's Secret Keeper after all. I'd worked too hard
to shift the suspicion off me to let that happen. But dear old James was too
paranoid about how much Remus knew, so Remus will never deliver his message."
"You killed Lupin," Harry whispered, some part of him rejoicing that it hadn't
been Sirius after all. "But he didn't do anything!"
A short bitter laugh. "Precisely. Remus never did anything. Not without James
and Sirius's approval. Not even to save a child's life. And the damned fool is
still hanging about, trying to make them like him."
Harry slumped back in his chair, staring at his last hope for someone to depend
on crumbling.
Pettigrew seemed to take sympathy on him. "I have something for you." He went
to a cabinet and opened it; soft silvery light rippled into the room. "Do you
know what a pensieve is?" Harry nodded wearily. "This one belonged to a great
man -- a man your father had killed when he ruined James's bid for Minister for
Magic. I want you to have it, and I think he'd want you to have it, too."
Pettigrew went to stand next to the bird. He whispered something to it, and it
nodded its head, and he came away with a brilliant red and gold feather.
"Despite what you may think of me and the things I've had to do, you're not
alone. You're strong, Harry, stronger than you know, and there are people out
there who don't like what your father has become. People who knew him as he
once was." Pettigrew pressed the feather into Harry's hand. "When you want to
talk, just hold this and say, 'I solemnly swear I am up to nothing but good.'
The Order of the Phoenix isn't dead. Not while you live."
Harry took the feather.
End Notes
     Note: Agatha requested: I'd like a plotty, smutty AU wherein James
     Potter became the Dark Lord (or some similar position of power) with
     Harry as his heir. Sirius is, of course, his right hand man - I don't
     mind how Snape fits in but I'd like for there to be Snape/Sirius and
     possibly Snape/Harry (or Snape/Sirius/Harry. And feel free to throw
     James in as well as long as any James/Harry is part of a threesome.)
     I'd like Snape to have the upper hand, whether he knows it or not,
     and I'm completely up for all your kinks. Don't mind whether Lily and
     Remus are alive or not, but I'd like Peter to be living as a spy.
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