The Best Day
Harry was three, finger-painting in the Potters’ kitchen as Euphemia and Lily cooed, marvelling over the baby boy. He was making a mess of the canvas, but no one cared much, they only minded the fact that their little boy was so grown up, only yesterday seeming like his birth.
“Oh, wow, Harry!” Lily gasped in faux awe, “It’s beautiful!”
Harry giggled and pointed his little finger at his mother. “Mama!”
“Aww, it’s you Lils!” A woman’s voice called from out of frame.
“He never paints me,” James teased, swooping into frame to snatch Harry into his arms. Harry squealed, attempting to break loose, to no avail.
“Lily’s just more fun to paint, isn’t she, Bambi?” Sirius poked Harry’s nose, causing him to squeal again.
“I guess he chose Lily’s side of the divorce, Jamie,” a man’s voice sighed from outside of the frame.
The group laughed, James rolling his eyes and squeezing Harry. “Nonsense, I’m his favourite parent.”
Harry was too little to understand what the fuss was about. His Dad was the smartest man alive, his mom the prettiest girl in the world. This was the best day.
Harry was five when Sirius and Remus took him to pick out their pumpkins for the first time. It was cold out and Harry was wearing his big coat, drowning in the fabric.
Remus hung back with Sirius while Harry ran toward the pumpkins, picking out his favourite one. It was bigger than his body.
Sirius let out a loud laugh as Harry lifted the gourd triumphantly. The little boy—a mirror image of James—smiled widely and sprinted back to his godfathers, lugging the pumpkin along with him.
“This one!” Harry called to them, struggling to continue carrying it.
Sirius and Remus met him halfway, Remus picking up the pumpkin while Sirius picked up Harry, tossing him over his shoulder.
On the way home, Harry fell fast asleep in the back of the car.
He was young and maybe he didn’t know why the leaves changed in the fall, but he did know that he loved his Uncles Moony and Padfoot and that he had the best day, today.
Harry was thirteen when he came home crying, unable to articulate his feelings into words. He locked himself into his room, refusing to open up to anyone, until Regulus knocked and requested to be let in.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry sniffled, his back to his door.
“You don’t need to.” Regulus shrugged.
Harry flipped around, looking at Regulus questioningly.
“Look, I’m not going to pretend like I don’t care about what’s going on with you, but how about we go drive somewhere, yeah? We can sit in silence or listen to music or you can even tell me about what’s the matter, but I think you should come with me either way,” Regulus suggested, sitting gingerly down on the corner of his step-son’s bed.
Harry thought about it for a second, then nodded slightly. Regulus gave Harry a small smile, then led him downstairs and into Sirius’s convertible.
“Don’t tell Sirius we’re stealing his car.” Regulus gave Harry a mischievous grin which was returned.
Regulus drove his brother’s car with Harry for an hour or so, stopping when Harry pointed out an ice cream parlour to get some.
“So, what’s going on with you?” Regulus nudged Harry’s shoulder, careful not to spill any of their ice cream.
“It’s just—well there’s this boy at school…” and Harry talked about it. He opened up to Regulus about school until the conversation led them to other topics and then into the town and into stores, then finally back into Sirius’s car when it began to get dark.
Harry didn’t know what he would do at school, but he did know that he was laughing now with his step-father, who had become more than just a step-father to him over the years. He would never know how long it would take to feel okay, but this day with Regulus would stick with him forever.
All of these days would stay with Harry. His best days.