The Potter home was a warm, inviting place, filled with an air of casual comfort and a touch of organized chaos. The living room bore evidence of a well-lived life, its shelves lined with books on magical theory, Quidditch magazines, and little trinkets collected over the years. A few of Harry’s most recent drawings were proudly displayed on the walls, courtesy of Lily’s insistence that their son’s artistic talent deserved recognition. The soft hum of a crackling fireplace and the scent of freshly brewed tea created an atmosphere of peace, at least for now.
Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, entirely engrossed in his latest sketch. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his small fingers expertly guiding the charcoal across the parchment. Across from him, sprawled lazily on the couch, was Sirius—wearing nothing but a pair of loose trousers, his upper body bare, limbs relaxed as he posed for Harry’s artistic endeavor.
For weeks, Harry had been captivated by anatomy, studying the way muscles worked together and how the body fit as a whole. James had been his primary model up until now, but he’d finally grown too exhausted to hold the various positions Harry demanded. When Harry entered a focused state, pulling him away was nearly impossible, so James had called in reinforcements. With a bit of begging from Harry and a knowing smirk from Sirius, the Black heir had been more than happy to take up the task.
Lily leaned against the doorway, sipping her tea with an amused expression. She had long since accepted Harry’s fascination with anatomy, and as unusual as it might seem for others, she saw nothing wrong with it. Her son’s innocence was something both she and James fiercely protected, and Sirius—despite his playful nature—respected that boundary just as much.
“You should shift your arm a little, Sirius,” Lily suggested, glancing at Harry’s sketch. “It’ll help with the proportion of the shoulder.”
Sirius, always one to follow Lily’s artistic direction, adjusted his pose, throwing in a dramatic smirk for good measure. “Like this, oh masterful artist?”
Harry barely responded beyond a distracted nod, too caught up in his work.
James, meanwhile, lounged on a nearby armchair, lazily flipping through a Quidditch magazine but keeping an eye on the scene. He grinned, watching how Sirius indulged Harry’s artistic whims. “You’re lucky, Pads. He made me hold a pose for nearly an hour yesterday. I think my spine will never be the same.”
Sirius chuckled. “A small price to pay for art, Prongs.”
Lily laughed softly and shook her head before retreating into the kitchen, intent on preparing tea and snacks before their guest arrived. Severus had been making an effort lately—his relationship with her was still tenuous, but it was a step forward. She wanted to believe that things could be better, that they could all exist in the same space without old grudges flaring up.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
Without warning, green flames roared in the fireplace, and Severus Snape stepped through, earlier than expected. His dark eyes took in the scene before him, and his expression twisted into something unreadable—before morphing into barely contained outrage.
“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” Severus’ voice rang through the room, sharp and accusatory.
Harry, still caught up in his work, barely acknowledged the intrusion. James, however, straightened in his chair, and Sirius—unbothered as always—merely raised an eyebrow.
“What does it look like, Snivellus?” Sirius drawled lazily. “I’m posing. Harry’s drawing.”
Severus’ lips curled in distaste. “You’re half-naked in a room with a child—”
James, recognizing where this was going, stood up sharply, his easygoing demeanor vanishing in an instant. “Careful, Snape.”
Severus scoffed. “Careful? I come here to visit, and I walk into—this? And you expect me to believe this is normal?”
“It is normal,” Lily’s voice cut through the tension as she reentered the room, her gaze steely. “For weeks, Harry has been fascinated with anatomy. He’s been drawing James every day until he couldn’t sit still anymore, so we called Sirius for help.”
Harry, finally sensing the shift in the atmosphere, looked up with innocent confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”
Lily immediately softened, stepping forward to kneel beside her son. “No, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong.”
Severus, however, was not so easily convinced. “Lily, this is—”
“No, Severus,” she interrupted, her voice firm. “Harry is an innocent child who sees the world differently than you or me. He’s fascinated by how things work. He doesn’t see anything improper in this, and quite frankly, neither do we.”
Severus’ jaw tightened. “Regardless, this is highly inappropriate.”
James folded his arms, standing protectively between Severus and the others. “You don’t get to come into my home and start throwing around accusations.”
Sirius, meanwhile, smirked, completely unbothered. “Honestly, Snape, you act as though I’ve corrupted the boy. If you must know, I think it’s quite flattering that Harry wants to draw me. He’s got talent.”
Severus glared at him, but his anger was no longer just about the situation at hand. Old resentment simmered beneath the surface, and though he remained silent, Lily could see it in his eyes—this was not just about Harry’s artwork. This was about something deeper, something that hadn’t faded despite the years.
Lily exhaled, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Severus, I appreciate that you came, but if you can’t respect our decisions regarding our son, then perhaps this visit was a mistake.”
For a moment, Severus looked like he wanted to argue, but then he turned on his heel. “I see nothing has changed,” he muttered before striding toward the fireplace and vanishing in a swirl of green flames.
A tense silence followed.
Then, Sirius stretched languidly, still unbothered. “Well, that was dramatic.”
James rolled his eyes and plopped back down onto his chair. “Bloody waste of an afternoon.”
Harry, still confused, looked between them. “Should I not draw people anymore?”
Lily cupped his cheek and smiled gently. “Of course you can, sweetheart. Don’t let anyone make you feel like your art is wrong.”
Harry beamed, satisfied with that answer, and turned back to his drawing.
Sirius shot James a mischievous grin. “Still up for more poses, Prongs?”
James groaned. “I hate you.”
Lily just laughed, shaking her head as she returned to the kitchen, deciding that after all of this, she definitely needed another cup of tea.