Love The Art Tbh

Remus not checking up on Harry for 12 years because he was busy being sad in Wales and Sirius not breaking out of Azkaban for 12 years because he was literally being tortured every single day are not the same thing at all, in this essay I will–

Now @zazima be a dear and pls write the scene where sirius went to hogwarts with the dmle folks too😊

“dear harry,”

read “dear sirius” first

Hey kiddo, relax. I’d be quite the hypocrite if I got mad at you for losing points. Just be careful next time, please. Maybe stick to smuggling items on Filch’s banned list as opposed to fire-breathing, sharp-toothed illegal magical creatures. Also weren’t you wearing the cloak? How’d you get caught?

Does McGonagall still wear that tartan dress robe? If so, please tell her to upgrade her wardrobe to the 90′s.

I cannot wait to see you at the Quidditch match. Is the new broom holding up well? Either way, I know you’re going to smash it!

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

One “Defending Yourself and Others- the Practically Perfect Way” is enclosed, my studious child. You owe me five Sickles by the way- I told you he’d be nuts. And no, I have no desire to learn what that crackpot’s favorite colour is. I’d much rather have one-on-one tutoring with Snape for the rest of my life, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

Do I need to get you a Remembrall? Slip is attached, although I’m not sure you even need it. Didn’t you memorize all of the secret passageways by the time you were 9? I would like it on the record to that you did that of your own volition; I had nothing to do with it. 

And I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sugar Quills? I don’t touch the stuff. It’s bad for the brain, you see. And my brain needs to be extra sharp in order to keep up with you and your shenanigans.

(Although if you happen to see them, I’m sure the extra-long lasting ones would be excellent. Just to see what they’re like, of course).

Love,

Sirius

Dear Harry,

Not to worry my young worrywart, we will wait to open presents, drink hot chocolate, and make my famous Christmas pancakes until you get home. Father Christmas normally waits for no one, but this year he’ll wait for you- I’ve put in a good word (although I’m tempted to take it back as payback for calling my decor horrid).

Now for the Ball, it’ll probably help to not refer to any possible date as “stupid”. They’re much more likely to say yes that way, you see. Other than that, I suggest asking someone (boy or girl, doesn’t matter who) that you generally get along with and enjoy speaking to. It’ll make your night at least a little less painful. Perhaps one of your Quidditch teammates? Or someone from your classes?

Don’t ask someone only because you think they’re attractive. It may lead to awkward conversation, awkward dancing, and awkward excessive butterbeer consumption that leads to a night spent on the toilet. Not that I’m speaking from experience, of course. But if I was theoretically recounting my experience I would like it to be known that it was not me who ended up on the toilet. It was my theoretical date. 

As for dancing… I’m quite pants at that even with the forced childhood lessons. Maybe ask your date to give you a tutorial? Or at least a practice dance to make sure you don’t muck up the opening.

Also I checked for your dress robes- they’re not here. Are you sure they’re not buried at the bottom of your trunk?

Best of luck, kiddo. Don’t forget to send pictures at the Ball- I’m running low on blackmail material.

Love,

Sirius

Harry-

I’m coming to see you and bringing DMLE folks. Be in Gryffindor common room in half an hour. 

Don’t worry, I’m on my way.

Sirius

P.S. Thank you for telling me. I’m proud of you

love this

posting an untitled drabble saved in my drafts about Sirius calling Harry by his name most of the time in their little cottage and Harry being very 🥰 about it — words: 305 summary: He didn't have a name, not really. It was boy and child and idiot and freak.

Harry didn't quite know his name before kindergarten. When he'd heard his name called out for attendance, he'd felt as if he was a stranger happening across treasure. An imposter. Harry Potter—that wasn't his name. He didn't have a name, not really. It was boy and child and idiot and freak.

He cradled it in his hands and twisted his tongue around that name in the dark of his cupboard, stitched it to his mind and imagined frequently how his parents—Mr and Mrs Potter—would have named him. Harry. Maybe they'd sifted through name-books before deciding on Harry, or maybe it was recommended to them by a neighbour, or maybe it was an ancestral name. Whichever it was, this was his now; Harry Potter was his name, and it was the only thing that really belonged to him that had never been the Dursley's before.

Harry doesn't know why it feels so different now, hearing his name all the time in Sirius' cottage. Even though he hears it at Hogwarts too, but it's different in the way it's Potter or Harry followed by an awed Potter, or a stern Mr Potter—and it's not like how this is.

It's not pronounced with so much affection and warmth in long corridors, the way Sirius says it, eyes crinkled and a smile dimpling his cheeks, and Sirius says it so much around Harry:

Calls him from downstairs, "Harry, love—!" Wishes him, "Good morning, Harry!" "Harry, pass me the turmeric, please?" "What would you like for dinner, Harry?" To sleep, "Good night, Harry."

I love you, Harry.

It's always Harry, spoken in that rich, quiet voice of his, coated in love and soaked in warmth and Harry notices and his heart flutters and squeezes. He smiles every time and can't help but love it and Sirius.

Sooo umm... how about a part two (before of die off of cuteness)?

"i need your help"

The question has been posed a few times by Harry to Sirius over the years, but this is the first time Sirius looks up at him and smiles in response.

Harry is standing in the doorway of Sirius' study with a scowl on his face and a piece of silk held between his fingertips like it's a bug.

"Oh?" Sirius shuts the Ministry of Magic Legal Handbook Version 26.0 that he's been frantically flipping through for the past hours out of fear he's forgotten something and stands up.

"I don't know how to tie a tie," Harry explains. He takes a few steps into the room and tosses the fabric at Sirius, who easily catches it.

Sirius smirks. "How were you planning on surviving Hogwarts next year? Part of the uniform, you know."

Harry shrugs. "I figure you'd teach me a charm or something."

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter. "Last time I tried spell to tie a tie it nearly strangled me, so unfortunately we're gonna do this the Muggle way. Come over here."

Harry stands in front of Sirius as his godfather winds the tie around his shoulders, patiently guiding him through the twining of fabric until the tie sits neatly tied around Harry's neck.

Sirius takes a step back to look at his handiwork and nods, satisfied. "There. What do you think?"

Harry looks at his reflection in the large ornate mirror hung across the back wall of the study. "Better than being strangled, I suppose."

Sirius grins and knocks his fist gently against Harry's chin. "You know, you didn't have to wear a tie. It'll only be the two of us and the Wizenmagot official"

"Remus isn't coming?"

Sirius shakes his head. "No, not allowed."

Harry frowns and opens his mouth, but then closes it without saying anything.

Sirius gives him a knowing look. "It's bullshit, but it's the laws. But like I said, you didn't have to wear a tie. The Wizenmagot official's going to perform the ceremony regardless of how fancy you look."

Harry shrugs. "It's an important day for me."

Sirius can't help but smile. "Not everyday you get adopted. You sure you're not having any last minute doubts?"

Harry shakes his head emphatically. "No, never." He makes a noise, as if he's going to add something, and then hesitates. Sirius waits patiently. "Do you think my dad would be mad? That I'm, you know, getting a new dad?"

Sirius' heart stutters as Harry voices the same question he's asked himself for the past five years. He wraps his arm around Harry's shoulder and draws him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Absolutely not. I think your dad would want you to be happy, no matter what. And he wouldn't have made me your godfather if he didn't want me taking care of you. Does this-" he gestures between their two bodies. "-make you happy?"

Harry nods into Sirius' chest. "Yeah."

"Good. Me too. I think your dad would be happy too."

They stand in silence for a moment before Harry speaks up. "Thanks. For adopting me."

Sirius presses his face into Harry's hair and smiles. "Nothing to thank me for kiddo. It's my absolute joy to be your dad."

A few moments pass by before Sirius speaks up again. "We should probably get going though. Wizenmagot official might die of old age if we get there too late."

Anything for marshmallows, and chocolates and chips and s ' mores!

sirius and regulus are eavesdropping on their parents while they’re discussing politics, and are texting each other whatever they hear.

sirius: did she just say that voldy’s going to enforce a marshmallow?

regulus: a martial law, you gormless git.

Golden Trio Headcannons:

Ron was the one who taught Harry how to tie his shoe laces, after he noticed Harry tucked his laces into his shoes. "No-one ever cared enough to teach me..." "I care enough."

Both Ron and Harry were with Hermione when she started her period for the first time. "I'm...BLEEDING" "Calm down, it's your period, its just the shock of it, My sister got hers last year." "should I get Mcgonagall-"

Ron is the only one of the 3 who regularly goes to breakfast, he tends to pack toast in his bag to give to Harry and Hermione because sometimes they forget or they just don't bother and IT WORRIES HIM-

Harry and Hermione have the same favourite book as a child. Matilda, both relate to the book in very different ways. "It just gave me hope, really, she discovered her magic and found someone who loved her." "Harry, you also found people who love you" "I know"

Harry memorised how ron and Hermione drink their tea. Ron dash of milk, lots of sugar. Hermione, lots of milk, 1 sugar. He makes the best cups of tea. "It's really a ghastly amount of Sugar Ron-" "Your tea is literally whiter than me, don't judge"

Ron bakes treacle tart and jam tarts for Harry and Hermiones birthdays.

Harry and Hermione were once mistaken for siblings, and neither of them corrected the person. "Yeah, she's my older sister" ron would never forget the smiles on their faces. Everytime Hermione would go back to that Cafe, they would always ask about her younger brother.

Hermione was also the first person to hug Harry since he was placed with the Dursleys when he was 1. Ron was the second person to hug him.

Harry used to leave change around Rons room when he knew he was a few sickles short of something he knew Ron wanted. Because Ron would never accept money from Harry. Ron never found out, but Hermione saw him do it one day. "Your secret is safe with me"

Ron and Hermione are the Godparents to Harry and Ginny's children. And vice Versa. (Exept Lily Luna, whose God Parents are Neville and Luna)

Harry has a photo album filled with photos of him and his friends, that made in 2nd year, that album starts with him and ron and hermione, and ends with him and his family together.

It was actually Hermione who taught Harry how to tie his tie for school, and she wouldn't let him get on the boat without "being in proper uniform. Just because your the boy who lived doesn't mean you can just not tie your tie."

Harry and Ron were eachothers best men.

Ron and Hermione sometimes purposely walk slowly, when Harry finally starts to open up, so that he has more time to talk and won't close back up when they near where they're going.

Harry and Ron carrying some of hermiones work for her in lessons they share, because "Mione, you'll break your back carrying all that?!?!" "Yeah Ron's right- why the fuck do you have so much paper?!?!" "Parchment" "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT HERMIONE-"

Harry and hermione sharing their favourite muggle treats with ron "Mars bars mine" "I've always loved strawberry laces myself!!" And Ron sharing his favourite wizard treats with them.

Harry teaching Ron how to cook the muggle way and Ron teaching Harry how to cook the magic way. (Hermione was banned from the kitchen after she got frustrated with the spells and just decided to leave the boys to it as they actually enjoyed it) "I mean, you cooked for us during the hunt, the least we can do is cook for you now!" "You don't have to be good at everything, babe!!" "FINE-"

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione make sure too meet up for lunch at least twice a week, as they have busy lives now and they want to make that effort too see eachother. They've only missed around 15 of these, either because of honeymoons, child birth, Harry being "INJURED WHAT THE FUCK MATE DID YOU DO?!" "He was stabbed" "LIGHTLY stabbed" "YOU BLOODY PASSED OUT FROM BLOOD LOSS-" "eh" "EH?!?!?"

*screams* silently cuz yk sitting with a very anti harry potter family

Something He Never Got To Say Before

for @impishtubist 's prompt here ; it's not wolfstar raising Harry, but close! hope you like it ! words: 955 summary: Harry wants to call Sirius ‘dad’. [Set in the summer after PoA, Peter’s caught, Sirius is free and raising Harry the best he can.]

It frustrates Harry how it fits so perfectly. Sirius is spelled soft and warm on his tongue but dad—it’s tender and something Harry’s never got to say before and homey and it makes his cheek hurt with a smile. Harry loves how it sounds.

But he isn’t meant for it.

Harry stares at the words.

Oh, and I’m sure my dad will~

That’s where they end, the curved end of the l smudged into a waving, blotted line; Harry’s quill had jerked with the realisation of what he’d written.

Dad.

He stares, biting his lip, heart starting to pound in his chest. Sirius, he means. But.

Sirius isn't his dad. Harry doesn't have a dad.

It shouldn't hurt as much as it does.

Sirius changed his whole life. He bought Harry a home, now gives him a life that is a thousand times less miserable and more exciting than his previous one—it is love filled and brimming with smiles and soft touches (instead of shrieking and pan-throwing and knee-scraping heart-wrenching hurt) and Sirius buys him candies and ice creams (the very best ones) and takes him to carnivals and teaches him about Holi and Diwali and tells him stories about his parents. Sirius ruffles his hair and watches the telly with him and tells Harry: I love you, kid.

You're the best, Harry.

It's enough. It should be.

It is, in a way. Harry is more than grateful, beyond it really, for all that Sirius has done—he’s done so much for him in a mere twenty days than the Dursleys ever did for him in all of Harry’s thirteen years.

And yet, he finds himself wanting more.

His lips taste of blood as he scrapes back his chair to throw the crumpled parchment into the bin.

-

He is four (but he doesn't know it then) when he, looking at Petunia's long pale hair and Dudley's very blue eyes (handsome, Petunia always says), asks: “Are you my mum?”

It's a question that's been troubling him, after that Incident at the grocer's, whizzing around in his mind and buzzing right next to his ears and crawling over his fingers ever since.

Petunia turns with a crack of her neck, her face pinching and scrunching. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“That woman at the—”

“I am not,” she cuts in, sharply. Then she shudders. “I'm not your mother and never will be, you understand? I would never want you as my son, you freak of a child.”

Harry fights back tears.

“Who is, then?” he whispers.

“You don't have a mother, you idiot.”

One of the words he learns that day is orphan.

-

It frustrates Harry how it fits so perfectly. Sirius is spelled soft and warm on his tongue but dad—it’s tender and something Harry’s never got to say before and homey and it makes his cheek hurt with a smile. Harry loves how it sounds.

But he isn’t meant for it. It’s how it is. Like how he will never have his parents back. How the sky is blue. It’s how it will be.

Yet. There’s a childish part of Harry that hopes so badly, hopes with all of his snitch-sized heart and rule-defying soul that Sirius accepts him and calls him ‘son’ and —

Maybe he should write a letter to Hermione. Or Ron. They’re good at family stuff, especially Ron. Harry wonders what his best friend would say if he asked: ‘Mate, what do you do when you feel like calling your godfather ‘dad’?

He probably wouldn’t know, nor Hermione, Harry thinks, chewing his morsel for far longer than he should, staring at his plate.

The thing is, the real thing that is behind it all, that Sirius is really, when you think of it for a good while, the perfect picture for the word ‘dad’. He’s the synonym of dad, really, and Harry’s sure that if he said it to whoever wrote dictionaries, the writer would most definitely agree and immediately jot it down next to ‘dad’ and congratulate him immensely for the insight. (In his mind, he looks like Cornelius Fudge.)

And that is why, when Sirius asks Harry in his gentle voice, eyes grey and kind, if something is wrong (because Harry has been quiet throughout dinner and Sirius is sure the curry tastes alright and there’s nothing wrong Sirius has said and he’s wracking his brain if today is a date kids should be morose on but he can’t handle Harry looking so sadly at his plate, like it’s broken his heart or something) that Harry blurts, “Can I call you dad?”

Sirius blinks.

His spoon clatters on the plate.

Harry’s mouth parts as he realises what he’s said and he inhales a sharp, stuttering breath.

Way to go there, Potter. “Er—I mean…”

He doesn’t know what he means except what he said and he knows that he shouldn’t have said it and there’s an expression (shock? surprise? dread?) drenching Sirius’ face and he needs to look away and down at his plate.

Shame burns in his throat, flaming his face and his heart twists.

Harry says, “I meant…” He has no idea what he can say that would rectify this situation. He stares at his orange-red curry, imagining his face is as red as it.

“Oh, Harry…” Sirius say, voice sounding... strange. He clears his throat. “I—of course you can. If you want to.”

Harry looks up so quickly his vision greys a little. “I can?”

“Yeah, you can.” Sirius’ hand flies to his smooth hair to smoothen it.

“Oh.”

He can’t believe it. Sirius smiles; a smile that makes him think of his parents’ wedding photos, that makes Harry believe in everything, including this.

Harry’s face splits into a wide wide grin. “Um, thank you… Dad!”

Sirius’ smile wobbles. “Come here, kid.” Sirius gets up and raises his arms, inviting Harry for a hug. Harry rushes forward, chair screeching, heart soaring in delight, and burrows himself in the tight hold of his godfather, and—dad.

Lucky you! I mean I have a few friends best ones at that but none like _that_

My fav dynamic in marauders is the complete and slightly unhealthy codependency James and Sirius have on each other

Like I’m positive when they left hogwarts instead of living with their partners they just owned a seperate house where they could live together

Sure they stayed with their partners sometimes but other times they just needed to be alone together

this is so me lmao

sirius: i’m so mysterious

also sirius 10 minutes after meeting anyone: -and i think that’s the day my mom stopped loving me

Dogs Are Afraid of Thunder (and so is Padfoot)

Series: Padfoot & Prongs

Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Relationship: Sirius Black & James Potter

Characters: James Potter, Sirius Black

Summary: Dogs are scared of thunder, so what about Padfoot? James learns the answer to that question one stormy night.

Keep reading