Thy Father Lies

“Are you ready?” Remus, winding a scarf around his neck, craned over at his boyfriend.

“Almost.” Sirius grunted, pulling on his winter boots. He stood and swung his coat over his shoulders.

Remus, all bundled up, shook his head in disapproval. “You’re going out like that? No hat? No scarf?”

“It’s not that cold.” Sirius opened the cottage door onto a whirling flurry of snow.

“Oh, really?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen worse.” Sirius headed outside without bothering to button up his coat. In truth, after three years on the run, outside in all weathers, it still felt strange to be able to bundle up inside a warm house before facing the cold.

Remus followed him more slowly. The moon had been full just a week ago, and while Severus’s Wolfsbane Potion made his transformations far more bearable, no one could call them easy. Still, he was recovering fast.

“Why so glum?” he asked now. “We’re about to see Harry.”

Sirius blew out a long, frosty breath. “Yeah, well, the last time I saw Harry, it didn’t go so well.”

Remus fell silent, remembering what Sirius had told him.

The last time Sirius had seen Harry was in the autumn. It was the first time they had actually been alone together: always before there had been a host of chaperons, headed by a glowering Severus—when they weren’t surrounded by a phalanx of Aurors and photographers, of course. But at last Harry had gone to college and gotten out from under Severus’s thumb somewhat. And he had agreed to meet Sirius in London.

It had started out well. Harry seemed to appreciate being shown around London by a native, and listened raptly to Sirius’s tales of old times with his father, James. Sirius found a strange comfort in sharing his memories with James’s son, and enjoyed rediscovering London for himself. They’d walked through windswept streets, colored leaves stuck to wet pavement, and eaten in a real London pub. They’d watched boats on the Thames, and Harry admired the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben.

It all went swimmingly, until Sirius showed Harry a narrow, insignificant dark alley. “This is the spot where your father and I Stunned the Death Eaters!”

“What?” Harry blinked.

“It’s a funny story.” Sirius chuckled in remembrance. “James and I were tearing through London on my motorbike when we were chased by a couple of Muggle cops. They finally cornered us here in the alleyway and tried to give us a ticket for speeding, can you believe it? But before they could, a couple of Death Eaters flew overhead!” Sirius pointed out the building over which the Death Eaters had flown. “Luckily, James and I had our wands. We whipped them out and Stunned those suckers. Then we got back on the motorbike and flew off, leaving those Muggles just gaping after us and the Death Eaters unconscious in the alley!” He laughed aloud, heart warmed by the happy memory.

Harry watched him in silence for a moment. Then: “That’s fucked up.”

Sirius stopped laughing, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“That’s fucked up,” Harry repeated. His American accent made the statement seem even flatter and more uncompromising than it would have been otherwise. His green eyes were hard with disapproval. “You and Dad were just baiting those police officers for no reason? And then you just left those Death Eaters in the alleyway with a pair of Muggles? You do realize that the cops probably took those Death Eaters straight to the hospital, right? The Muggle hospital.”

“I…” Sirius scrambled for words. In truth, he’d never given a single thought to what had happened after he and James had made their dramatic exit. He wanted to explain that it had been a joke, a boys’ adventure—but there was something about Harry’s laser-like gaze that made such excuses seem flimsy as tissue paper. “Why would they do that?” Sirius finally asked, weakly.

“Because they were unconscious and that’s what Muggle cops are trained to do,” said Harry, flatter and colder than ever. “Getting injured people help is part of their job. What if those Death Eaters woke up in a Muggle police car? Or in a Muggle hospital? What would they do then? Whip out their wands and kill everyone before they escaped?”

Sirius blinked some more. He’d never thought of this, but, now that Harry spelled it out for him, it seemed only too plausible. “I guess we didn’t think…”

“That’s pretty obvious.” Harry was already turning away. “Maybe we should head back.”

They walked back to the pub where they’d met in silence. Harry’s goodbyes had been perfunctory before he Disapparated back to school in Los Angeles. Sirius was left feeling uneasy, disappointed, and retroactively ashamed of a deed that had taken place decades ago.

Now he and Remus made their way up the road to Hogsmeade, on their way to Christmas drinks with the boy who’d sliced into Sirius’s soul and the man who’d raised him. Sirius gave a frosty sigh, thinking of Severus Snape. Was it Snape’s doing, that Harry thought so poorly of him? Of his own father?

“Cheer up,” said Remus. He gave Sirius a nudge, his scarred face smiling behind its scarf. “It’s Christmas! And we’re going to get ourselves some nice drinks at the Three Broomsticks.”

“You’re forgetting that I work at a pub, Remus,” said Sirius, nudging him back. “This is hardly anything special for me, except someone will be serving me drinks instead of the other way around.”

“Yes. The Hog’s Head.” Remus’s smile faded, peering at Sirius with his old expression of concern. “I still think you’d be a great Auror, Sirius.”

“Remus. We’ve discussed this.” Sirius spoke in clipped tones. “There’s no way I’m becoming an Auror. Not after being thrown into Azkaban by Aurors who didn’t give a damn that I didn’t get a trial. I like my job at the Hog’s Head. Aberforth isn’t a bad boss. And this way, I can stay with you.” He put an arm around Remus’s shoulders. “The first Defense teacher Hogwarts has managed to keep for more than a year!”

Remus couldn’t help smirking. He was indeed the first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts had managed to retain for more than a single year—a feat all the more remarkable for his having been outed as a werewolf at the end of his first year. After Voldemort’s defeat, Dumbledore had talked Remus into coming back, and, to everyone’s amazement, he managed to see out his second schoolyear, and the third, and was now working on his fourth. The jinx on the position really had been broken—and Hogwarts couldn’t have had a more qualified teacher.

So now Remus lived with Sirius in a cottage outside Hogsmeade, where both men could walk to work while maintaining some privacy. Sirius was assistant bartender at the Hog’s Head tavern these days, a job he found suited him well. The constant business of bartending helped ease the horrors of Azkaban and the stresses of those years on the run, and being around people helped even more. Aberforth was a brusque and taciturn boss, but not unkind or impatient—and he claimed that Sirius’s mixture of fame and notoriety really helped business.

It was nice to feel useful. It was nice to keep busy. Sirius enjoyed the Hog’s Head. The only problem with Sirius’s job, really, was that Remus didn’t approve of it.

“You don’t have to be an Auror, Sirius,” Remus said now. “But you could do so much more than—than serving drinks at a pub!”

“Hey, I’m getting involved with the LRPW, aren’t I?” Sirius had initially started participation with the Lycanthropic Rights and Protection Watch to support his boyfriend, who was a prominent member of the new organization. But he now found he was becoming genuinely passionate for the cause. The LRPW was right: werewolves should have more rights and protection. How the wizarding world treated werewolves was wrong.

“I know, and that’s a great thing, but…I don’t know, I guess I just never imagined you living a peaceful life in a village somewhere.”

Sirius let out a long breath, staring out across the frosty landscape. Snow blanketed the fields on either side of the road, and trees scratched the sky with bare branches. More snowflakes were starting to fall, drifting out of the darkness to settle on the snowbanks and the bare road.

“I never did either,” he said quietly, “but I’m not sure if I’m ready for the wider world just yet.” He took another breath. “I was locked in Azkaban for over a decade, Remus. For the first five years, I had dementors outside my cell door constantly. I couldn’t use my magic, couldn’t assume my Animagus form, couldn’t even think properly. Even after they eased the security on me, my mind was so confused…I remember slipping between dog and man and not even really noticing the difference. Except everything was a bit more bearable when I was a dog. Then I found out that Wormtail was still alive and I felt—I felt such hate, Remus. My first clear emotion in twelve years and it was hatred. I think it was that hatred which allowed me to break out. It wasn’t a positive emotion, so the dementors couldn’t suck it out…It awakened my magic, just enough to bend the bars of my window, so I could slip out. Then I swam to shore, away from Azkaban, and everything came rushing back and—it hurt, Remus. It hurt so much. I could barely cope with the pain of so many clear thoughts, so much emotion, so much sanity. I think that’s why I wandered around for so long. I couldn’t interact with other people, not when I could barely form a sentence without fainting from the pain and the exhaustion and the—the bizarreness of it all. I mean that: it was really bloody weird just being able to form a rational sentence. When I finally got to Hogwarts—after Voldemort used my blood in the resurrection spell—that was the healthiest I’d been in years. I could actually conduct a rational conversation!” Sirius chuckled, but it lacked real humor. “Just getting a job as a bartender is a huge victory, Remus. You know that.”

Remus stood and stared at him a long moment. This was the first time Sirius had tried to describe his years of exile in one coherent story. Horror was in his face, but also deep understanding.

At last, he spoke. “Yes, Sirius. I know.”

The two men spoke no more as they entered Hogsmeade. The village had assumed its most charming Christmas mantle: snow blanketed every thatched roof, a lighted Christmas tree dominated the town square, carolers stood singing outside the church, ringing bells and holding out collection tins for charity. Lights glowed in every window. But by far the brightest and most welcoming window display was that of the Three Broomsticks, the pub’s window framed with holly, magical candles floating behind the glass, and real-life fairies flitting around the greenery.

Bells on the door rang as the two men entered, stamping snow off their boots. A wave of warm air wafted over them, scented with spice, alcohol and mince pies, and a roar of noise. Half of Hogsmeade seemed to be here in the taproom, seated around the tables, crowded into booths, or huddled around the blazing fireplace, or the Christmas tree glittering in the corner. Sirius smiled, heart eased by the scene. This was what he loved about pubs.

He spotted those they were here to meet, sitting around a table not far from the fire. Harry had his arm around his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, both youngsters talking animatedly. Sirius felt the usual stabbing pang, mixed with elation, at seeing James’s visage on James’s son…followed by a swoop of his stomach when he saw the third member of their party.

Severus Snape sat grim and dark as usual, sipping from a glass while he listened to Harry talk. Around him, eddies of attention and speculation swirled, the patrons of the Three Broomsticks sneaking peeks at the hero who had killed the Dark Lord and since become Potions master at Hogwarts. Severus paid no apparent attention to the gawkers, his eyes on Harry. He laughed slightly at something Harry had said, a small smile lighting his face, making him look, momentarily, like a different man altogether.

Sirius fought back a stab of poisoned envy at the sight. He should have been the one to raise Harry, not Severus. It should have been him sitting at that table, laughing at something Harry had said, eyes full of tenderness and love. That it wasn’t—and that Severus, of all people, had that privilege—filled Sirius’s heart with jealousy and bitter pain.

Remus led the way over to the table, weaving through the crowd. He and Sirius attracted their own share of glances and murmurs; the whole wizarding community knew both men had been at the final battle, and Remus had gained celebrity status in his own right as an outed werewolf who spoke up frequently for lycanthropic rights. Sirius’s own dramatic story of false imprisonment and a life on the run made him famous too, along with his work for the LRPW. He gave the crowd a few smiles and nods, but didn’t stop until he and Remus had reached the table.

Harry looked up and grinned, looking so much like James that Sirius could hardly breathe. “Hey!” he cried in that American accent that always jarred and surprised Sirius. “You made it!”

“Hello, Professor Lupin!” beamed Ginny. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas to you, too.” Remus hung up his coat on the free chair next to Severus while Sirius did the same in the chair next to Ginny. He would have liked to sit by Harry, but Severus already had that place. “How’s your internship going?”

“It’s going well—I’m really enjoying Los Angeles. And I’m still writing for the Prophet, you know: this little series all about my adventures as a young witch in America. It’s really popular, apparently!”

“I’ve read those!” said Sirius, sliding into the chair beside her. “They’re really fun. Though I notice you keep Harry out of them.” He angled a glance at Harry.

“So I should hope,” said Severus, speaking for the first time. The light in his face had dimmed at Remus and Sirius’s arrival, and he watched the two newcomers unsmiling.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet us for drinks like this, Severus,” Remus said. “You’re heading back to San Benito soon, aren’t you?”

“Tonight.” Severus took a sip of his drink. “Harry and I are going to spend Christmas with our friends there.”

“But we’ll see you again the day after Christmas, right?” said Harry. “You’re both going to stop by?”

“That’s right,” said Sirius. “I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He searched for something to say. “How’s college going?”

“It’s fine!” Harry grinned. “It’s a lot of fun. I’m still checking out all the options—I’m still only a freshman—but I’m learning a lot! Making videos and coding—Miguel says I should think about going into the movie-making business. I really enjoyed the herpetology class I took too.”

“Herpetology?”

“Study of snakes,” said Severus. “Harry likes snakes, don’t you, Harry?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, Harry looked wistful. “I haven’t been able to speak Parseltongue since the Dark Lord died, but I still like them. It’s been interesting learning about them in class.”

Remus and Sirius exchanged confused glances. Harry liked snakes? “What else?” Sirius asked.

“Well, I’ve been taking some social work classes too, and I’m really enjoying them. I think I might pursue those. I’d like to do something that helps people, after I graduate.”

Sirius listened with bemusement. It was utterly bizarre to listen to James Potter’s son talk about the courses he was taking at a Muggle college, and the career he wanted to pursue in the Muggle world. Didn’t Harry know who he was? Sirius scowled to himself: it was all Severus’s fault again, for raising Harry in the Muggle world and feeding him lies. The thought still made Sirius’s blood boil.

Madam Rosmerta came along to take Sirius and Remus’s orders and take away Severus’s glass to refill. Severus himself was still quiet, scowling and shooting Sirius glances. Sirius knew Severus resented his presence just as much as Sirius resented his. If Severus Snape had had his way, Harry would never even have known Sirius or Remus existed, let alone be having Christmas drinks with them. The air between the two men thickened with tension.

“Well, I think that would be a great thing to do,” Remus was saying. “Though, like you said, you’re still only a freshman. You’ve got time to think about it.”

“I think you should go into movies!” said Ginny enthusiastically. “Like that video we did together. Finger puppets enacting a five-minute performance of Romeo and Juliet!” She laughed at the memory.

Severus groaned and lowered his head into his hands, which made both youngsters laugh harder. “Oh, that one…!”

“Hey, I crocheted those finger puppets myself,” said Ginny with mock indignation. “It took forever!”

“And Los Dos liked that video,” said Harry. “They said Ginny and I should start our own YouTube channel!”

“Finger puppets performing five-minute Shakespeare on YouTube.” Severus shook his head as Madam Rosmerta brought back his refilled drink. “Pure blasphemy.”

“When did you see Harry’s video?” Sirius had become somewhat more familiar with Muggle online technology over the last two years, Harry introducing him to YouTube and online streaming, but Severus had been at Hogwarts since Harry had begun college. There was no way he could have received a link to one of Harry’s videos.

“Oh, Severus stopped by my dorm a couple of weekends,” Harry said casually, knocking back more of his own drink. “I showed him some of my work and we went around LA a bit, right, Severus?”

Sirius felt another thrust of pain. Harry had sent him a few letters, written in ballpoint on lined Muggle paper, but never invited him to visit him in Los Angeles. And here Severus had been stopping by? “You couldn’t have invited me? Or Remus?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Harry blinked at him, looking surprised. “Well, we were just in London together, weren’t we?” he said. “I thought maybe I’d come for another visit over spring break.”

“What?” Now it was Severus’s turn to look surprised and hurt. “You’re not coming home?”

Harry glanced between Severus and Sirius. “Well…”

Perhaps mercifully, Rosmerta chose that moment to return with Sirius and Remus’s drinks. Sirius drank his mulled mead with some bitterness.

Remus bravely stepped in. “It’s been quite the year at Hogwarts, hasn’t it, Severus? Thank you again for brewing all that Wolfsbane Potion. I mean it.”

Severus favored Remus with a look that was, if not quite approval, at least less disapproval than before. “My pleasure, Remus,” he said quietly. “I listened to that radio interview you gave last week, for the LRPW. That was very brave of you.”

“Well, I’m already outed as a werewolf,” Remus shrugged. “And I’m a celebrity. It’s only fair if I use my status to help other werewolves.”

“We’re planning great things for the new year,” Sirius put in excitedly. “We need to keep pushing for an employment nondiscrimination act. And we have to keep up efforts to educate the wizarding community at large about lycanthropy and how it can be managed.”

“Sounds good to me!” said Harry enthusiastically. “Hey…” Inspiration lit his eyes, and he turned to Severus. “Severus…you should give an interview with the LRPW!”

“Me?” Severus blinked. “But I’m not a werewolf.”

“No, but you brew up Wolfsbane for Remus and a bunch of other outed werewolves, don’t you? You could give an interview about why you do that, and how the potion helps. It’d be great!”

“He’s right, you know,” said Remus, eyeing Severus speculatively. “Your status as a wizarding hero would help tremendously.”

“I could give you an interview!” Ginny squealed in excitement. “It could go in the Prophet and the California MagTimes.”

“That would help a lot,” even Sirius was forced to admit.

By now Severus was shrinking back under the combined determination of the other four. “We’ll see,” he muttered. He drank some more. “Frankly, I still have enough on my plate just dealing with my new post at Hogwarts. I’m certainly glad it’s the end of term.” He grimaced. “Months of teaching roomfuls of hormonal teenagers, what joy.”

“Oh, come on, Severus, it can’t be that bad,” said Harry. He had a very slight British accent when he spoke to Severus, Sirius realized, an accent that came out for no one else. “You taught me, after all.”

Severus gave Harry one of those small but warm smiles he seemed to reserve only for his adopted son. “There’s a great deal of difference between teaching one apprentice and trying to manage a classroom full of wild little brats who don’t want to listen or follow instructions.”

“Tell me about it,” Remus said with a wry grin.

“I always thought you enjoyed teaching, Professor,” said Ginny with a quizzical look.

“I do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally want to just put the whole school on standby and go take a nap or twelve.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Severus. “There should be a spell to just freeze all the students in place for a few hours.”

“And then all we teachers can go to the staffroom to complain about them,” laughed Remus. He nudged Sirius. “Makes you rethink the old days, doesn’t it, Sirius? Back when the teachers had to put up with us.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The atmosphere, which had been thawing, froze up again. Severus’s gaze sharpened into a glare. Remus looked down, mortified, and Sirius shifted uncomfortably. Memories of their shared schooldays—uncomfortable memories—paraded through his mind, and he knew they were going through the other two men’s heads as well.

Ginny looked between them, eyes wide.  “What?”

“Nothing.” Remus forced a smile. “It’s just—we weren’t the brightest or best-behaved boys when we were teenagers. Me and Sirius, and Harry’s father James. But fortunately, we grew up.” He raised his glass. “To Harry’s career at college. May he do better than we did.”

Even Severus could join this toast. They all clicked glasses and drank.

“And to Severus’s next term at Hogwarts,” said Harry, raising his glass again. “May he survive it as he has survived his first!”

“Right, Harry.” Severus rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched in a smile as he clicked glasses.

The conversation moved on to less fraught topics. Sirius sat and drank and, he noticed, Severus did the same, going through glasses of cider rather quickly. The evening grew blurred around the edges.

Then Severus said something that yanked at Sirius’s attention. “What did you say?” He focused suddenly on Severus. “What did you just call Dumbledore?”

“‘That Gandalf wannabe.’” There were two spots of hectic color on Severus’s cheeks, but his black eyes were sharp with malevolence as he focused on Sirius. “Because he was, you know. Mike says Dumbledore was a Gandalf wannabe, and he’s right.”

Something in Sirius’s head exploded. He wasn’t entirely sure who or what Gandalf was, but he could hardly mistake Severus’s tone, or the malicious light in his eyes. “You should talk, Snivellus,” he hissed. “Calling Dumbledore names after he’s dead! If it wasn’t for Dumbledore, you’d have been thrown into Azkaban, and rightly so!”

“Oh, and was it right when you were thrown into Azkaban, Black?” Severus spat back. “Dumbledore was a ruthless, manipulative old snake—no offense to the actual reptiles, Harry—who used me for his own ends and would have used Harry too! Not that you’d ever see that, you spoiled, arrogant—”

Furious, Sirius stood, aiming a punch at Severus. Severus hit back, only to fall back when Remus stood, thrusting out his arms and separating the two men.

“Look at the two of you!” Remus snarled. “Fighting like children! You’re both drunk! I should cast Sobrietus on you both.”

“No!” Sirius and Severus chorused. The Sobering Charm was highly effective but notoriously horrible to undergo.

“Well, calm down, then. Harry, you take Severus out for a walk, right now. Sirius, you come with me.”

Sirius let Remus haul him toward the door, glowering sullenly back at Severus, who glowered back but made no move to follow him. He was being held by Harry, who frowned after Sirius with almost as much anger as Severus did. The sight brought a wash of both guilt and angry resentment over Sirius.

Remus paused only to settle the tab with Rosmerta before hauling Sirius back outside. The freezing winter air hit him like a slap, clearing his head somewhat. The carolers had all gone home, and the pair stumbled through a village gone silent except for stragglers heading home. The snow was falling harder than ever.

“Well done, Sirius,” Remus hissed.

“Old Snivelly had it coming,” muttered Sirius, staggering along beside Remus. “Calling Dumbledore names! He owes Dumbledore everything!”

“Dumbledore might’ve helped keep Severus from prison,” said Remus, “but Severus is right: he did so for his own ends. Severus has a right to resent Dumbledore, Sirius, just as he has a right to resent us.”

“And what about me?” Sirius demanded plaintively. “Don’t I have a right to resent Severus? He took James’s son and left me to rot in Azkaban!”

“Harry,” said Remus quietly. “His name is Harry. And Severus kept him safe, Sirius. We owe him for that. If Harry had grown up in the magical world, he probably would have been killed, by a Death Eater seeking vengeance or by Voldemort himself.”

Sirius sighed, unable to argue with this. “I know. It’s just—damn it, it’s so unfair! That Severus got to be Harry’s father, while you and I…” He trailed off.

“What’s done is done, Sirius,” said Remus. They kept going, into the snow-flecked darkness. “Severus raised Harry and nothing you or I or anyone else can do will ever change that.”

“Severus lied to Harry, though!” Sirius cried. “You know that! Hell, Harry knows it! Why does he still love that sneaky bastard?”

“Severus is the father of Harry’s childhood,” said Remus. “The first to truly claim his love. For fifteen years, he was the only family Harry had at all. That’s not something to be shaken off lightly. And it’s not up to us to tell Harry how he should feel.” He gave Sirius a long look, eyes gleaming that odd orange color in the light of the streetlamp. “If you want to be in Harry’s life at all, Sirius, you’ll have to make your peace with Severus. One way or another.”

Sirius awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a distinct sense of shame. Remus had been right: last night had not been his finest hour. But it wasn’t like it had been Severus’s finest hour either.

Luckily for Sirius, the Christmas season was a busy one at the Hog’s Head, too busy for Sirius to think. Aberforth refused to install fairy lights or a Christmas tree, saying they didn’t jibe with the Hog’s Head’s ambience, but he did allow Sirius to put up wreaths and greenery, and Sirius surreptitiously added more lights near the ceiling of the taproom, so it was brighter and more welcoming than usual. The clientele seemed to appreciate the effort. The pub closed early on Christmas Eve, but not before the customers raised several toasts to both Sirius and Aberforth, praising their service, their drinks, their Christmas spirit and, yes, their pub’s dingy ambience. It was enough to send Sirius home with a smile.

He and Remus had a lovely, cozy Christmas Eve by the fire. On Christmas Day, they had a pancake breakfast before going to the castle for Christmas lunch with Headmistress McGonagall and those staff members still at school. Happy that Severus wasn’t there, Sirius had a very enjoyable lunch, complete with talk, laughter and pulling crackers with Remus.

Apprehension was slowly settling on him, though. Soon the hour would come when he and Remus would both Apparate to California to spend Boxing Day with Harry…and Severus. It was with a heavy heart that Sirius packed his overnight bag when they got home.

“Hey.” Remus came over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Why so glum?”

“We’re off to see Snape again,” said Sirius wryly.

“And Harry.” Remus enfolded him in his arms. Sirius let himself rest against his boyfriend, enjoying Remus’s warmth, the strength of his arms. “I’m sure you and Severus can work it out. After all, I have. I’ve actually worked pretty well with Severus over the last few months.”

“You’re nicer than me.” Sirius hugged Remus back. “I don’t know if I can do this, Remus.”

“Well, look how far you’ve gotten,” Remus reminded him. “Remember when you first arrived at Hogwarts? You were so exhausted, so ruined, like you said. I remember thinking you looked like a scarecrow left out in the rain.”

“Thanks, Remus,” said Sirius with dry irony. “Am I really so much better now?”

“Miles better,” Remus assured him. “You still have some way to go—I won’t lie about that—but you are much, much better than you used to be.”

Sirius hugged Remus and kissed him. “It’s all thanks to you, you know.” He remembered those early days, when it had been just him, Remus and Dumbledore on campus, along with the castle house elves. The strange, dreamlike peace of those days, despite the horror, fear and worry that had haunted Sirius. Each day was very slow and uneventful. The world had seemed very far away, which was just as well. Sirius felt like he’d had to learn everything anew, from sleeping in a bed to eating at a table to walking down a hallway without scanning for danger first. Remus had been so patient, spending hours every day with him, going for walks on campus, reminiscing about the old days. The intimate evenings in the Headmaster’s small dining room, the three of them eating dinner together and talking of gentle, civilized things. Slowly—so slowly—Sirius had started to feel normal again. He’d started to feel human again.

He would always be grateful to Dumbledore for believing him when he came to the Headmaster with the story of Voldemort’s resurrection. For giving him shelter and protection. Just as he would always love Remus and be grateful to him, for all his work in healing Sirius’s wounded soul.

“Let’s go,” he said, hugging Remus one last time. He would make an effort with Severus, he promised himself, if only not to let Remus down.

The time difference between Scotland and California meant that Sirius and Remus had to Apparate, awkwardly, in the middle of the night. They stayed up late, then went outside into the snapping-cold air to Apparate into San Benito.

The difference was vast and instantly noticeable. The temperature rose, so far and so fast that Sirius felt like he’d developed a sudden fever. The darkness of the Scottish midnight turned into evening, with some ambient light still in the air, pierced by streetlights and electric lamps from the houses lining the street. The sound of the winter wind cut off, replaced by traffic and the distant murmur of waves. Even the wind was different, softer, warmer and laced with salt and seaweed. Sirius and Remus stood in a small neighborhood park, screened from the road by oleander bushes and jacaranda trees, cement benches dim shapes in the twilight.

The two wizards heaved their bags and headed off, to the Air BnB they’d rented beforehand. Marching along the Muggle street, Sirius couldn’t get over how different it all was from Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, London or any of the other places he’d lived. Any of the places James had lived. It was so strange to think that Harry considered this little Muggle town beside the ocean, built of cement and brick, with red-tiled roofs, to be his home.

They reached the tiny cottage at last and Remus managed to get the front door open. They went in and, barely taking the time to drop their luggage and root out their pajamas before falling unconscious into bed.

The next day dawned gray and cloudy, a thin drizzle falling from the sky. Sirius and Remus ate a tourist-awkward breakfast, hunting out utensils in the unfamiliar kitchen and eating strange cereal, standing by the counter. It was so strange, Sirius thought, being in a Muggle house: no magic, but with their technology and gadgets seamlessly woven into the structure. They drank orange juice from the fridge, and Sirius almost wished they had some brandy to mix into his. He was feeling increasingly nervous about the upcoming meeting.

“He’s not going to eat you, you know,” said Remus, reading Sirius’s mind as he so often did.

Sirius smiled sheepishly. “I know. But you’ve got to admit, our last meeting didn’t go so well.”

“I think we learned a valuable lesson from that last meeting,” said Remus. “Namely, you and Severus shouldn’t drink together. But we’re just going to go have lunch and give Harry our present.”

“You’ve got it ready?”

Remus nodded. “All wrapped up and ready to go.”

As soon as they respectably could, they set off for Harry and Severus’s house. It was difficult navigating the strange, grid-like streets, lined with odd houses surrounded by unfamiliar plantings. It made Sirius depressed, and a bit disappointed in himself. He used to be so adventurous; his younger self would have delighted in exploring this strange town. But that was before Azkaban, and all that had followed. Now he needed the familiar to truly understand himself.

The house on Mesquite Drive stood stucco-faced and red-tiled under its shady trees. The door opened and Harry stepped outside, holding a steaming mug. He looked up and grinned at the men’s approach, and Sirius caught his breath at the sight: a young man who so closely resembled James that he might have been his twin, but dressed in ragged jeans and a t-shirt that read, “I [Heart] California”, his eyes green as the Pacific Ocean.

“Hey!” Harry called, his American accent jarring as ever from that mouth so much like James’s. “You came!”

“Did you think we wouldn’t?” Remus led the way to the front door, smiling expansively. “Happy Boxing Day, Harry.”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Harry. He held the door open for Sirius and Remus. “Severus, they’re here!”

Severus appeared, dark and silent as a shadow. He regarded his guests without much apparent pleasure. “So they are,” he said at last. “Do come in.”

Sirius and Remus came in, quiet and awkward as any new guests. The house was bizarre to Sirius’s eyes: very Muggle and very American, all the furniture modern and well-maintained. Severus had bought the house outright from Petunia, Sirius understood, and rented it to vacationers when he was not in residence. But it took Sirius a moment to realize the strangest thing about the house.

Harry and Severus were both so comfortable here. They moved around with utter ease, none of the self-consciousness or discomfort they displayed in Britain. The house seemed to embrace them while holding Sirius and Remus at a wary arm’s length. Watching Severus move around the galley kitchen getting lunch together, Sirius realized he’d never seen Severus actually at home anywhere. But he was here.

Harry helped carry out lunch, holding each dish in both hands. He was utterly at home here too. This was his home, Sirius realized: this house, this town, this shore. Britain would never be anything but a vacation destination for Harry Potter.

Harry shot an admonishing look between Severus and Sirius. “No alcohol!”

“Right, Harry,” Severus and Sirius chorused almost in unison. Then they blinked at one another.

“Ah, the bonding power of shared embarrassment,” Remus muttered, smothering a smile.

Sirius swatted at him. “Don’t start, Remus!”

Harry laughed, and they all sat down to lunch.

It was so strange, Sirius thought, sitting down to lunch with Severus Snape, accepting potatoes from his hand, passing him the salt. He never would have expected such circumstances, not in a million years. But then, he never would have expected James’s son to grow up in America. Sirius thought with longing of the Christmases that should have been: Remus and himself coming to Potter Manor, to be greeted by James and Lily, Harry a small, happy presence who grew a little larger every year. There should have been drinks before the fire, James with his arm around Lily’s shoulders, the adults talking about everything from Harry’s latest escapade on his broomstick to halcyon memories of Hogwarts. Then lunch around the old polished table, passed down through generations of Potters, Sirius seated beside his godson, everyone laughing and pulling Christmas crackers, Harry demanding to know when Sirius was going to give him his present…

“…So yeah, I’m going to go meet Tomas later this afternoon,” Harry was saying to Remus. “We’re going surfing!”

“Surfing? The day after Christmas?” Remus laughed.

“Why not? We’ve got wetsuits.”

“It’s their Christmas tradition,” said Severus with another of his warm half-smiles at Harry. “They’ve done it every year since they were fourteen.”

“Like our Christmas walk on the beach, right, Severus?” Harry grinned at him. “We went on Christmas Eve, like we do every year,” he said to Sirius and Remus. “Over two miles along the shore, right, Severus? We saw dolphins!”

Sirius felt a deep, powerful wrench. Pain that Harry had developed Christmas traditions with Severus and without Sirius. He took a breath and forced himself to smile. “Sounds nice,” he said. “You should come to the Hogwarts Christmas feast sometime. It’s something special.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Harry offhandedly. “I’m glad we got to go to Los Dos’s Christmas party this year, though. They had a Pride-themed piñata! Actually, it was Severus who cracked it, didn’t you, Severus?”

This time Sirius’s smile was far more genuine and far more evil. “You played party games with a piñata, Snape?”

Severus groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I told you not to tell them, Harry!”

“Oh, come on, you had a great time,” Harry laughed while Remus and Sirius both fought down snickers.

The lunch ended on such a good note that Sirius felt comfortable drawing Harry aside afterward, leading him into the living room. “Here, Harry,” he said, handing him his parcel. “I wanted to give you this.”

“What is it?” Harry unwrapped the paper and looked at the leatherbound book.

“A photo album. It’s full of pictures of your family. Look…” Sirius opened the book and pointed at a black-and-white photograph depicting an older witch and wizard smiling and waving. “Those are your grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.”

Harry let out a little choke of laughter. “Euphemia? Fleamont? Those were their names?”

“James always hated it too,” Sirius said with a wry grin. “That was his middle name, you know. James Fleamont Potter. They all lived together at Potter Manor. Look, here’s your father as a boy…”

Harry’s gaze was pensive as he flipped through the album, looking at all the moving magical photographs of his parents, their friends and family. “This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Sirius, beaming. “Look, here’s your father on his broomstick…he was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, you know.” He paused. “Have you ever ridden a broomstick, Harry?”

“No,” said Harry casually, flipping the page. “Don’t know that I want to, to be honest. I mean, what’s the point when there’s Apparition?”

“You don’t want to fly?” Sirius let out an incredulous laugh. “Your father always did.”

Harry did look up then. His green eyes were not unkind, but there was a steely light in them that reminded Sirius not of James but of Lily.

“I’m not my father.” Harry’s voice matched his eyes. Kind but firm. He sounded just like Lily. “And I think you should stop trying to make me be him. It’s not good for you.”

There came a deep, thudding silence.

Someone cleared their throat behind Sirius. Still stunned by Harry’s statement, Sirius turned, expecting to see Remus.

Severus stood in the doorway to the living room. “Any pictures of Lily in there?” he asked.

“Y-yes.” For the first time ever, Sirius felt grateful to Severus for interrupting. “Here’s one you might like…” He took the album from Harry and showed a picture of Lily standing on a stone bridge in Paris, from that summer when they’d all traveled to France.

Severus looked at the young, radiant Lily a long moment before handing the album back to Sirius. “Thank you,” he said, gruffly but sincerely.

Sirius had another new and novel experience. For the first time, he wondered if Severus too wanted to rewrite the past. If he too wished things had turned out differently.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius told Severus.

Later, Sirius, Remus and Severus stood on the beach, watching Harry and Tomas paddle out to sea on their surfboards.

The young men, already soaked, yelled to each other, gasping at the chill. Harry looked wonderful on the water, like a selkie prince returned to his proper element. This was where he belonged, Sirius thought with a wave of bittersweet emotion: on the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean. Just as Sirius and James had been formed by ancient manors and wild Scottish mountains and flying through cloudy skies, so Harry had been formed by stucco houses on flat roads, miles of beaches, and the endless sweep of the ocean. And nothing Sirius or anyone else did could change that.

Sirius turned to Severus and Remus. “I think I know what I’m going to do in this new year,” he said. “I’m going to get more active in the LRPW. They need more spokespeople.” He glanced at Severus. “You should get involved too.”

“I’ve had enough publicity in my life, Black,” Severus said stiffly.

“Just one interview, Severus?” said Remus coaxingly. “It would help so much for a non-lycanthropic ally to speak out. Especially you.”

Severus sighed, as though coming to a decision against his better judgment. “Oh, all right. Just one interview, though,” he added.

Remus smiled, like the sun coming out to glitter on the sea. “Thank you, Severus.”

“Yes. Thank you,” said Sirius. He paused. “There’s something else I want to do, too,” he said at last. “I want to petition the reformation of Azkaban. Even if we can’t get rid of Azkaban altogether…the dementors need to go. What’s happening there is beyond evil. I want to reform the prison. I want to clean up our justice system.”

Remus gripped his shoulder. “Good for you, Sirius. I support you completely.”

“I can’t argue with any of what you’ve just said,” said Severus. He was silent a moment, eyeing Sirius. “Thank you again for that album,” he said abruptly. “It means a lot to Harry, I can tell. And…good luck, Black. I hope you succeed in your political endeavors.”

“Thank you, Snape,” said Black. It came out stiffer than he’d intended, but he meant it. He and Severus were never going to be friends, but something had changed between them in the last few minutes. A laurel branch extended, a truce declared. Sirius was surprised by how much lighter it made him feel.

Harry and Remus were right: Sirius had been clinging to the past too long. Trying to rewrite the present to match his own memories, to turn Harry into James. Maybe it was time to look forward, to what the future would bring. Sirius knew it wouldn’t be easy—he knew he would backslide more than once—but he would try.

The three men stood on the December beach and watched as Harry stood on his surfboard and rode a wave, laughing and yelling in pure delight.