Work Text:
A snow-white owl flies across the Great Hall, skillfully maneuvering through the many other owls, and lands right on the wooden table in front of Harry's plate filled with toast and fried bacon.
She tilts her head to the side and hoots softly, as if his attention isn't entirely focused on her.
He strokes owl's head and stretches his free hand to pick up a sesame biscuite from the plate.
Hedwig happily accepts the treat and enjoys it while Harry takes an envelope filled with beautiful but obviously unnecessary stamps, which remind him that at the end of the semester, the Portkey will take him not home to Potter Manor, but directly to a ski resort in the Alps, where his father and his best friend, Harry's godfather, are currently vacationing.
No one pays attention to Harry, who is holding his breath. The other students are busy opening their letters and parcels. Their cheerful voices blend into a buzzing stream.
Harry's fingers runs over the thick kraft paper of the envelope. He doesn't know who the sender of this letter is. Judging by the randomly placed stamps, it could be his father. However, the envelope has a subtle aroma of blackberries, almonds, and something minty and cold, reminiscent of the scent coming from Sirius' hair. Harry remembers this scent from when he was a baby, his little, often slobbering fingers tangled in Sirius' magnificent curls as he rocked baby Harry to sleep. And Sirius endured these insults with fortitude, smiling and cooing over the baby. Well, his parents and the magical photographs told Harry about these incidents, 'cause he was too young to remember them himself, but he remembers the scent. He associates it with safety and deep, soothing laughter.
The answer to the question of who the sender is lies inside. Harry impatiently, but carefully tears open the envelope and pulls out a letter written in his godfather's beautiful smooth handwriting.
Dear Harry.
I hope this finds you before you leave Hogwarts. There is a snowstorm here today, and Hedwig might get lost on the way a bit.
Your dad and I arrived in St. Anton last night, and it turns out that our rooms were switched. It's so trivial that it's ridiculous. Instead of a three-room suite, James and I have to make do with a honeymoon suite. That's strange, because there's a crib in the closet... I think it might be too small for you. In any case, we were promised a nice triple room by the time you get here.
Unfortunately, I can't share any photos of your father lying in the snow yet, as we haven't been out on the ski slopes yet. Let's hope the weather improves, and in the meantime, I'm enjoying the rather good champagne they brought us as an apology.
We're not bored, actually. Your father and I always have something to do. Like last night, we enchanted the ceiling of our room to look like a snowy sky, which was amazing. Then James transfigured tiny dust particles into snowflakes, and by morning, we were covered in snow. Your father is a living furnace, but I was shivering in my sleep.
We're planning to go out into the city tonight. I wish I could promise that we'll try not to have too much fun before you arrive, but this trip promises to be interesting, considering how it started. I'm looking forward to your arrival, Harry. You'll love it here, and I can already see us pulling your dad out of the snow. Maybe we should bury him deeper once.
I'll write again soon.
Sirius
P.S. you said you wanted to try to point out the Room of Requirements on the Marauders Map... Well... since it didn't open for us, I don't have any fond feelings for it. Try reading about runes for formulas of what exists in subspace. I'm sure Hermione will enjoy it. You and Ron won't.
Harry finishes reading the letter from his godfather with a smile on his lips. Sirius and his father literally attract all sorts of adventures, or create them themselves, and Harry can't wait to join them.
He rereads the postscript, but he doesn't remember such runes. He guesses that it's something very complex. James often mentions to Harry that Sirius did very well in most subjects at Hogwarts and was a brilliant student. Sirius usually waves it off at such moments. He almost never brags about his academic achievements, but he often likes to reminisce about the mischief he and the other Marauders got up to at Hogwarts. Harry enjoys listening to each story, marveling and expressing his admiration.
He puts the letter in his robes' pocket and turns to Ron and Hermione, who are arguing about whether it's possible to make people fight under the mistletoe instead of kissing
He tells them about Sirius' idea of the runes for formulas of what exists in subspace, not quite understanding what he's talking about, just quoting a phrase from a letter. Ron raises his eyebrow in confusion, and Hermione eyes light up with enthusiasm. It's clear that they'll be spending the evening in the library. Well, Harry is ready to work hard, knowing that he would be spending his holidays with his father and godfather in a few days.
He's distracted by the thought of Sirius' promise to teach him how to snowboard, while Hermione talks about which sections of the library they should check first.
In the evening, tired after classes and two hours of searching for books in the library, Harry and Ron return to their bedroom in Gryffindor Tower.
His friend immediately changes into his pajamas and, grumbling to himself about how Hermione's stories would make even a dead person feel depressed, falls onto his bed. A minute later, Harry can hear his steady snoring. Seamus and Dean are also asleep in their beds.
And although the sight of a warm, soft bed is incredibly tempting for Harry, he lights a Lumos on the tip of his wand, takes a quill and parchment from his desk, and begins writing a response to his godfather.
Dear Sirius.
Thank you for the last letter. Hedwig brought it quickly and wasn't even angry about the weather. Perhaps the biscuits made her feel better.
Unlike you and dad, I don't have anything interesting happening here. The last days of school are making everyone distracted, even the professors are looking forward to taking a break from us. These feelings are mutual.
I'm looking forward to the holidays. Now that I've heard your stories, I'm even more excited to visit St. Anton. Since you and dad started having fun earlier, try to find the most interesting places.
Yeah, you and dad have a knack for getting into trouble (mum says you're trouble themselves, you know, in her good-natured, grumpy way). By the way, when you mentioned dad's talent for transfiguration in your letter, I couldn't help but wonder: he figured out to transfigure snow, but he didn't transfigure two separate beds for you? Now that I've written it, I'm even more curious about it... I guess my old man was really tired that day, if he didn't think of it. I guess you're too.
I'll send this letter with Hedwig tomorrow. She's resting in the owlery right now.
Say hello to dad for me.
I hope this letter reaches you before I arrive, so you won't forget that a crib can also be transfigured into a bed suitable for me.
I miss you.
Harry
P.S. we've only just started looking for the runic formulas, but Hermione thinks it's brilliant. She's talking about you should be our professor again.
I have mixed feelings about the idea of you as our professor. It'd be great to have you always around, but I'd also have to behave well to avoid making you blush in front of the other professors.
Before breakfast, Harry goes to the owlery to send Hedwig with a letter to Arlberg. The snow-white owl hoots and flies away without resistance. Sirius must be feeding her well, because she doesn't mind flying in the snowstorm.
He receives the answer that very evening, but it's delivered not by Hedwig, but by Elvendork, James' owl.
Harry treats the bird to some pine nuts and puts the envelope in his robes' pocket. He will read it after dinner, without being distracted by the noise of the students talking in the Great Hall.
Ron and Seamus are playing wizard chess on Dean's bed, while Dean is sitting at the headboard reading the Arithmancy textbook.
The winter wind howls outside, but the bedroom is warm and cosy.
The light of enchanted candles dances softly on the stone walls, burgundy curtains, and bed canopies. The warming charms that envelop the rugs on the floor keep bare feet warm. The rustling of pages and quiet comments from Ron and Seamus fill the room with life.
Harry throws his robes and bag on a chair, unties his red and gold tie, and collapses on his bed, clutching a letter in one hand and an apple he snatched at dinner in the other.
Sirius always responds to his letters without delay.
His father may miss a couple of days, and sometimes even leave a letter unanswered if he doesn't feel it's necessary. His mother sometimes answers in monosyllables, obviously busy, or thinking that he's being too dramatic, having inherited this habit from his father. But Sirius always responds immediately and in detail. Sometimes, it's full-fledged letters on thick cream-colored paper, and sometimes it's letters on scraps of parchment, with pieces of runic and arithmantic formulas on the back, which are likely to be secret, as most of these letters are sent by Sirius while he's working at the Department of Mysteries. That doesn't mean Harry loves him more than his parents. Not at all. But Sirius' love always makes him feel like the center of the universe, and Harry wonders if his father feels the same way as a friend of someone as devoted as Sirius.
There're two letters in the envelope, and he starts reading the first one. It turns out to be a letter from his godfather.
Dear Harry!
Don't worry about Hedwig. She's tired, and we've decided to send the letter with Elvendork. We'll take care of your owl.
Today, James and I finally went to the slopes. It took me twenty minutes to refresh my memories, and now I'm confidently snowboarding. Your father took longer, and he's still sulking. I probably shouldn't have called him a bear that just woke up from hibernation... But now he's stopped arguing with me and agreed that I should teach you how to snowboard.
Harry, we've found a wonderful coffee shop that makes the most amazing hot chocolate! Your dad is trying to improve the stasis charm and send a pot of this chocolate to Moony. He's such a kind person, isn't he? I won't help him because Remus didn't give you any points for your last essay this semester. I never would have thought he's such a picky professor. Speaking of professors... blushing? Is that what Snape does? I assure you, my dear Harry, that I would be proud of every gray hair that Filch would have due to your mischief. At that moment, James looks over my shoulder and says that I can't be a professor because the students won't remember anything other than my handsome face. Then he realises that he's giving me an indirect compliment and blushes. Your dad refuses to acknowledge that I'm more attractive than he is.
In any case, even though we're having a good time, we can't wait for you to arrive. I miss you, kid.
Sirius
P.S. Jamie was outraged by your bold remark, and he said that he wouldn't transfigure the two beds on principle. In fact, your father is just a cuddler. Did you know that he likes to be a little spoon?
No, Harry didn't know that. For a split second, he imagines his father's muscular figure curled up in the arms of the lanky, broad-shouldered, but slender Sirius, but he immediately dismisses the thought. It's so strange.
He switches to thinking about how Sirius will teach him to snowboard. He's looking forward to it. Because of Sirius' endless patience, even studying with him feels like fun. Harry clearly remembers how Sirius taught him to summon a Patronus. After a couple of weeks of long evenings, the ghostly cloud turned into a large antlered dog. Harry remembers how stunned Sirius looked. How his surprise turned to joy in his eyes. How he praised Harry and hugged him tightly. How his eyes sparkled with pride when Harry first showed his Patronus to his parents, and then to Remus, Peter, and Severus.
His godfather was also the one who taught Harry how to ski when he was five years old. Harry vaguely remembers how excited Sirius was when he told James how talented his son was, how quickly he was learning. Yes, he almost gouged Sirius' eye a few times, tore up his 700-pound ski jacket, and almost crashed into a tree, but his godfather assured everyone that these were minor incidents.
Harry knows that he'll try his best this time too, so that Sirius can be proud of him. Although he knows that Sirius' love for him is unconditional.
He puts the godfather's letter aside and picks up the letter from his father. His lips spread into an uncontrollable smile as he reads it.
Dear Harry!
This old man is still very full of energy, son. Transfiguring beds is too easy a process for a talented wizard like me. But I think it'd be more fun to transfigure you into a baby.
I think if Sirius had become a professor, he'd have gone back to being a kid and would have been running around the school with you guys under the Invisibility Cloak with a map in his hands, instead of grading boring essays on long evenings.
I miss you, Haz. I can't wait for you to come. I promise, it'll be a wonderful holidays.
Dad
P.S. I'm not a cuddler. Let me tell you, your godfather is shivering in the cold almost every winter night, this lover of silk pajamas. If he doesn't get a hug, he'll turn into a beautiful but useless ice sculpture. I'm saving your future snowboarding teacher for you.
Harry grins after reading his father's letter. He can almost imagine Professor Black encouraging his students to play pranks.
But one thought causes him slight surprise. So they didn't take his advice and transfigure the bed into two separate ones? Is it really that nice to sleep with your best friend?
His gaze involuntarily turns to Ron, who is clearly winning the game of magical chess against Seamus.
Harry loves his best friend, but he has no idea if he gets cold in his sleep, or if he likes to be a small or big spoon. He's never even thought about these things. Is this something you should know about your best friend?
- Hey, Ron, - he calls his friend.
- What? - the red-haired boy doesn't look up from the chessboard, engrossed in the game.
- Let's sleep together today, - Harry offeres. And only after saying it, he realises that in addition to such cute habits as hugging, people can also push and snore in beds, drool on the pillow, and... he forgot about morning boners! He's almost ready to take back what he said, especially when Ron and Seamus look at him in surprise, almost shock, and even Dean glances at him quickly over the textbook.
- Why? - Ron asks cautiously.
- You're right... that's strange, - Harry agrees quickly.
Fortunately, Ron and Seamus look at him curiously for a short while, and then return to the game.
Harry ruffles the hair on the back of his head in embarrassment. The level of friendship between his father and godfather goes beyond the ordinary.
Then Harry remembers Sirius, and how he slept with him as a five-year-old child who was afraid of thunderstorms. It was nice and sweet, incredibly cosy and warm. Sirius transfigured a canopy around the bed and cast a spell of silence. The first time Harry wandered into Sirius' room by accident, he mistakenly thought it was his father's room. But all the subsequent times when he couldn't sleep, he went to Sirius' bedroom on purpose. Fortunately, his father didn't take offense.
He gets out of his bed and sits down at the desk, pulling out blank sheets of parchment to write his answers before he has to do his homework on Runology, which they've been assigned for the last week of classes, apparently just to torture the students for as long as possible.
First, he writes a reply to his godfather's letter.
Dear Sirius.
I can't wait for our lessons! I'm surprised that dad didn't remember how to snowboard faster than you. On the other hand, he probably didn't have the patience to teach me. He thinks he taught me how to fly a broom perfectly, but I think I inherited fifty percent of my talent from him.
Don't be so rude to Remus, Padfoot. Sometimes I wonder if he gives me perfect grades just because dad bribes him with chocolate and books, and you intimidate him. The lack of points was completely deserved.
I think if Dumbledore had invited you to be a professor, all the other professors would have boycotted that.
I must say that I was deeply hurt by your words. I'm a carbon copy of my father. Am I not the most handsome boy in the world? So all those words about me being the most adorable child were lies? It breaks my heart.
Harry
P.S. please don't forget to remind the dad about the portkey. I would do it myself, but I don't want him to think I doubt his memory.
Harry folds the parchment into an accordion and then begins writing the next letter.
Beloved dad!
You're in the prime of your life. At your age, I dream of being as energetic. But if you want to transfigure me into a baby so much, then I won't mind much. I heard that, your first gray hair appeared when I was a baby, flying over the bars of the crib and flying around the house on the broomstick.
In any case, I miss you very much and I can't wait to join you, even if all I can do is cry, demand milk, and chew on your shirt.
P.S. thank you for saving my snowboarding teacher.
Did you improve the stasis charm?
Harry puts the quill aside and then folds this parchment too. He takes out an envelope and packs the letters. Elvendork is sitting on the windowsill, preening his feathers, when Harry approaches him. He's too lazy to go to the owlery, so he opens the window, which causes Ron to grumble slightly. Harry quickly gives the owl the letter, wishes him a safe flight, and as soon as the owl flies out, he closes the window.
Harry levitates a knitted blanket from his bed for Ron, who thanks him awkwardly as he wraps himself in the warm, soft fabric.
He smiles, then returns to his desk to start his homework.
The next morning, as he is having breakfast with orange jam on toast and coffee with milk, a large number of owls fly into the Great Hall, and Harry quickly spots his snow-white Hedwig.
He smiles at her, and the owl chirps happily in response, pleased to have returned to her owner.
He takes the envelopes from her, surprised to find that there're two, and puts them in his pocket. He has almost overslept his breakfast, and Potions class will begin in seven minutes. Harry is too eager to finish this toast, and he can read the letters later.
To everyone's surprise (and delight), Professor Snape seems too distracted. He doesn't give them any difficult tasks and asks them to brew a simple hangover potion.
- I think it'll be useful to you on these holidays, - he measures the students with a brief glance.
- Is this propaganda of alcoholism among minors? - Ron chuckles softly, and gets a sharp look from the Professor.
Few people know this, but Harry knows that Severus is being so distracted today because it's his last day of work before the holiday break, and then he's going to Greece with Harry's mother for a master class by a famous potion maker.
Harry didn't really listen to his mother's story about the potion-maker, as he was more focused on her sparkling emerald eyes and flushed cheeks, which were not hidden by the thin layer of powder.
Well... they've been dating for several years, and Severus has become... tolerable. Harry doesn't mind if he proposes to his mother during this trip. Obviously, it had been coming for a long time.
He still has a year and a half to go at Hogwarts, and he's willing to put up with the students' jokes for his mother's sake.
Meanwhile, his father is causing Harry some concern. He hasn't been dating anyone since the divorce, or at least he hasn't mentioned it to Harry.
Could he be enjoying his bachelor lifestyle too much?
Harry is willing to accept any option as long as his dad is happy.
It's a different story with Sirius. Perhaps it's influenced by the fact that Sirius dedicates his entire life to the Potters, or perhaps it's influenced by Harry's ridiculous childhood crush on his godfather when he was six years old, but Harry is much more concerned about his godfather's personal life.
He's simply not used to having anyone stand between Sirius and his family. Harry remembers that among his childhood fears of everyone dying and their planet exploding, he was also deathly afraid that Sirius would one day get married and, Merlin forbid, have children of his own.
The infatuation has long passed, but the childhood fears remain. He's so selfish.
He tried to get information about Sirius' personal life several times, but Sirius either laughed it off or redirected the conversation to Harry.
Harry doubts that Sirius has any kind of stable love life, given that his whole world revolves around Harry, James, work, and his motorcycle. In that order. Sometimes his father and the motorcycle switch places. But Harry always comes first. He selfishly wants it to stay that way.
After Potions class, he sits on a bench in the hallway, and while Ron and Hermione debate the ethics of mistletoe (seriously, these two need to kiss and stop arguing), Harry pulls the letters out of his robes.
First, he starts reading his godfather's letter.
Dear Harry.
First of all, you're the most charming boy in the world. Although you look like James, you've never had that expression on your face that makes the world owe you. You know, the same expression your father usually has.
I'd have been very interested to see Minnie's expression if I had become a professor at Hogwarts. I imagine she would have hidden her immense joy behind a very indignant expression. She's good at that.
It's not long until we meet, my dear godson, and I've come up with the perfect route with all the most interesting places. James says I could be a tour guide for kids, but I'll tell you a secret, there's a place with amazing mulled wine (your dad doesn't know about it).
Speaking of your father. You won't believe it! The ladies here are flocking to him like moths to a flame. Know, my dear child, that I'll do my best to ensure that none of these hussies become your stepmother. Don't thank me, dear.
Sirius
P.S. Your dad never learned to flirt.
Harry giggles. Lily also said that his father's flirting was always more grand and funny than romantic. Perhaps Sirius won't have to put much effort in. But on the other hand, Harry doesn't mind if his father finds a girlfriend. But what if this woman doesn't like the fact that Sirius is living at their house? It's not an easy question. But he's confident that if Sirius has always chosen the Potters, his father will do the same for his best friend.
Then he opens his father's letter.
Dear Harry!
You spend too much time with Sirius. I hardly recognize that sweet baby in this brash young man. Although I do recognize myself in you in my younger years. And I wonder how my parents put up with me? But at least you write to us almost every day, which is strange, since we'll see each other so soon.
Keep writing, dear. Reading your letters by the fire in the evenings is a pleasure.
Don't worry, I remember about your portkey (Sirius won't let me forget). It'll be delivered to you on the day of your departure.
Yes, I have improved the stasis charm, and now I'm waiting for a letter from Remus. I hope the chocolate reached him in good condition.
You may wonder why there're two separate envelopes this time. It's your godfather's fault. He wouldn't let me write my message to you on his letter. If he doesn't change his mind, you'll have two owls flying to you, but I think there're more than enough biscuits at Hogwarts.
I'd like to say that today was fun, but as soon as I turn my back on your godfather, people start flirting with him. Because of this, I have to wait for him to flirt and talk to them enough. Fortunately, there're many nice people here, and I don't get bored while I'm waiting for Sirius. But! I have to remind him that this's a family vacation. Even though he says it can't be a family vacation until the most important family member is here. I can't even be angry with him. He loves you so much, Haz.
Dad.
P.S. I love you too, Harry
A little tiff between his father and his godfather reminds him of the times he's had a little spat with Ron and Hermione. Or when Ron and Hermione have had a little spat with each other over nothing. Yes, that's what it feels like.
He decides to do something to get Sirius and James to stop being stupid (oh, they would be very unhappy if he said something like that to their faces), so he decides to write them one letter in response.
Dear father and godfather!
Sorry, I had little free time today, so I'll write one letter to you. Read it together!
I think you should both focus on waiting for your beloved child.
In turn I expect this trip to be a boy's party.
Otherwise, instead of sitting with you old guys, I'll go on a date with some girl.
With love,
Harry
P.S. I'm not kidding.
He seals the letter with a grin. The experience he gained from trying to reconcile his two best friends when they were at odds with each other tells him that the ideal way is to divert their attention to something else. Something that will force them to come together and direct their frustration towards someone else. He hopes it works. Something in the letters from his father and godfather tells him that, despite their half-joking tone, there're strong emotions behind these jokes. Harry doesn't understand their nature, but he really doesn't want his two favorite people, whose legendary friendship is the standard of friendship for him, to fight.
The next day, he doesn't just receive two letters; he receives two owls, one belonging to his father and the other to his godfather.
It's so unusual that even Hermione looks up from her newspaper, and Ron stops spreading strawberry jam on his toast.
- Aren't they together at that ski resort right now? - the red-haired boy raises his eyebrows as Harry frowns and unties the envelopes from the owls' legs. The owls glare at each other, as if they want to express their displeasure to their respective owners.
- Yes, - Harry replies. - They seem to be fighting.
- Fighting? - Hermione asks in surprise. - I've never seen or heard them fight. What could they be arguing about?
- I think it was something about holiday romances, - Harry replies reluctantly. His mood is turning sour. He's looking forward to this vacation, but now he's probably going to have to deal with two arguing men. For some reason, he's reminded of his parents' divorce when he was five years old. Although they parted peacefully and remained friends, Harry still remembers how sad and painful it was to see their family crumbling. No matter how much they tried to shield him from it, he still felt like his world had shifted and become less safe. It was then that his bond with Sirius became stronger than ever. Because his godfather was the stability he craved at the time. James and Lily could spend their evenings discussing who Harry would live with and how they would share custody, ignoring him in the next room, longing for their love and attention, but Sirius was the one, who was taking care of him at the time and giving him attention. Harry loves his parents, but he loves Sirius just as much. And he's afraid, with a childish, shameful fear, that his father and godfather's argument will result in him being ignored again. But this time, by Sirius.
- Merlin, are they interested in the same witch? - Ron takes a large bite of toast, looking interested.
- No, - Harry mutters, unsure whether to open the letters in front of his friends. But since his plan didn't work, maybe Hermione can tell him how to make them get along. - It's more like...
- Like? - the girl prompts.
- I don't know, - Harry squeezes out. He really doesn't understand what the problem is. Who cares if his long-divorced father is flirting? Hell, he doesn't even care if Sirius is flirting! Why are they fighting about it? Could it be because they're both flirting with the same person?
- Hey, Harry, - Hermione puts the newspaper down on the table and places her hand gently on top of his. - I'm sure it's just a little misunderstanding and they'll be on good terms soon.
Ron also gives him a reassuring smile.
- Don't worry, mate. Your dad and Sirius are like Fred and George. Even if they fight, they're like magnets the next day. Remember when they fought when George started dating Lee and didn't tell Fred? And Lee is their best friend. But they fought a bit and then made up.
Harry lets out a chuckle. He remembers that incident and how dramatic the twins were.
He smiles gratefully at his friends and looks down at the envelopes in front of him. Part of him doesn't want to read them. What if they're arguing so much that one of them decides to leave the resort?
Hermione notices his tense expression and squeezes his hand slightly.
- You don't have to read them. You'll see them in a few days, and you can talk to them.
Harry thinks the idea isn't without logic, but his curiosity is as strong as his anxiety. If he doesn't read these letters, he won't be able to think about anything else but what might be in them.
So he shakes his head.
- No, I'll read them anyway. Maybe I can figure out how to reconcile them and fix everything.
- You didn't ruin anything to fix it, - Ron snorts. - Oh, these adults. They're nothing but problems.
- Ron! - Hermione shouts at him, but Harry just laughs. Ron's right, in a way. Sometimes his father and godfather do act like children. There's a certain charm to it, but sometimes it's a bit annoying. Like right now, for example.
- I wanted to ask..., - he begins hesitantly, looking at the envelopes and then at Ron and Hermione. - Maybe we could read them together? Maybe you could come up with something too?
- Sure, Harry, - Hermione nods with a smile.
- No problem, mate, - Ron puts an arm around his shoulder.
Harry's chest feels warm, and his anxiety subsides a little. He loves his friends so much, and they're always there to support him. No way. He won't let his father and Sirius lose that!
Today, after breakfast, the three of them don't have their first class, and they decide to read the letters from Sirius and James.
They go to the Room of Requirement, as it's sure to be empty. Harry isn't afraid to share such personal information with his best friends, but he doesn't want anyone else to know the contents of the letters.
When they reach the Room of Requirement, which isn't much different from the common room in Gryffindor Tower now, Harry sits down on the sofa, and his friends sit down on either side of him.
He takes the envelopes out of his pocket and first opens the one that his godfather's owl brought.
He decides to start reading it out loud right away.
Dear Harry.
I'm sorry if we've made you worry.
I promise you that your father and I will make sure that your holidays are wonderful.
Tell me about your progress with the map. I'm curious. If you and your friends haven't figured it out yet, bring the Marauders' Map with you. We can try to come up with a solution together.
Sirius
P.S. your dad and I think you're too young for dating.
Harry blushes in embarrassment as he reads the last sentence, but fortunately his friends don't tease him about his godfather's patronizing and caring tone.
Moreover, Harry immediately switches his attention to the first phrase. Does Sirius' statement mean that the problem has been resolved? But why did they send two separate letters with two owls?
Harry looks at his friends, perplexed and a little helpless.
- Well... what do you think?
- It doesn't make sense, - Ron snorts.
- Well, actually, - Hermione objects. - It makes a lot of sense. Sirius is always overprotective of Harry. No wonder he doesn't want him to worry.
At these words, Harry's heart shrinks for a number of reasons: his love for Sirius, the realisation that the argument may not have ended, and his desire to be there and intervene.
- Let's read the letter from your father, - Ron offers.
Harry nods and opens the second envelope.
His heart sinks as he reads the first lines of his father's letter.
Dear Harry.
Your godfather is driving me to the brink of insanity!
We still haven't received our rooms, and he's turned our suite into two separate rooms. This loony seriously believes that I'm going to have an affair right under his bachelor nose and my underage son.
As if he's the epitome of virtue.
Don't worry about anything, we'll resolve this issue before you come. He's enchanted the lock on his door, but I'll make him talk to me.
P.S. Dates? Let's save this question for your thirtieth birthday.
Well, his plan only worked half as well. His father and godfather were against him, but not on the same side. Moreover, the situation had clearly worsened over the past day.
Short letters from Sirius and emotional letters from his father. This showed that the conflict had grown.
Sirius' letters are usually long when he's in a good mood and short when he's in a bad mood. He doesn't want to write anything that might upset or worry Harry. James is the opposite. When things are going well, his letters are short because he's in a hurry to enjoy the moment rather than share his experiences, but when he's in a bad mood, he likes to complain.
Harry had realised this a long time ago. But now this knowledge is causing him anxiety.
- Suite? - Hermione raises her eyebrow, scanning the last letter. - Harry, can you tell us what was in the other letters for context?
- Better bring all of them, - Ron adds.
Harry nods and rushes out of the Room of Requirement to retrieve the letters from the trunk in his bedroom.
He can't think of anything to do except get there as soon as possible. But what can he do? Even if he uses a binding spell and says he won't break it until they're reconciled, Sirius and James will immediately remove the spell. It's time for Harry to start learning advanced spells. Maybe one day he'll be able to surpass his father and godfather. The question is, will he dare to use spells against them?
When they return to the Room of Requirement, Hermione and Ron immediately begin reading the letters in order.
Harry also rereads them, hoping to find some clue, but he still can't understand what it was that affected the men in such a way that one of them became withdrawn and the other lost his temper.
There's a few seconds of silence in the room.
- So what? - he finally asks his friends, hoping they have an answer to this question.
- You'll have to excuse me, Harry, but I think they've just frozen their brains in St. Anton, - Ron says.
Harry's not offended. At least there's some logic to it. Maybe Sirius and James were affected by the change in climate?
In the case of his father, he's almost ready to believe it. But it certainly doesn't apply to his godfather, whose character is such that he could have survived the end of the world without batting his eyelid, as long as Harry himself wasn't in danger.
- Hm..., - Hermione says thoughtfully, folding the letters back into their envelopes. - I think...
Harry looks at her hopefully.
- ...that they have to figure it out for themselves, - she finishes, and hands Harry the pile of envelopes.
- Why? - Harry and Ron ask a bit disappointed.
- I think they're just gonna end up fighting if I don't do something, - Harry mutters, his fingers tightening on the envelopes.
- That's right, - Ron nods. - They've never fought like this before, have they?
Harry nods.
- They're friends for almost ten years before you're born, - Hermione snorts. - I'm more than sure that they not only quarreled, but also fought. And as you can see, they're still the best friends. You have a savior complex, Harry. They can handle everything perfectly well without you.
- And Hermione's right, - Ron suddenly adds. - Well, about the savior complex. You really sometimes think that you have to fix everything that's wrong.
- Whose side are you on? - Harry grumbles.
- No one's, - the red-haired boy quickly replies.
- We're both on your side, - Hermione rolls her eyes.
- Well, you're not helping, - Harry snaps, knowing deep down that he's being unfair.
Apparently, Hermione thinks the same, because she gives him a sharp look and crosses her arms.
- Well, if you really want to help, I recommend hanging an enchanted mistletoe over them and then leaving their room immediately, - she says sarcastically.
- WHAT?! - Harry and Ron exclaim, staring at the girl, but she remains calm, and it becomes clear that she's not joking.
Is Hermione hinting at a romantic attraction? And between whom? Between his father and his godfather? It just can't be. No way. They've been friends for most of their lives, and Harry has never noticed any kind of attraction between them. Yes, they're affectionate, yes, they're touchy, and yes, they're somewhat codependent, but everyone says they've always been like that, even back in Hogwarts. So, no. Nothing has changed.
- You know they're just best friends, right?
- One doesn't preclude the other, - Hermione retorts.
- And what? So my father didn't love my mother? - Harry blurts out a little irritated.
- Don't talk nonsense, - Hermione responds no less irritated. - I never said that. And judging by your father's letters, he hasn't yet figured out what he feels.
- Well, you know better than I do what my father feels, 'cause you're so smart, - Harry snorts.
Hermione jumps to her feet, grabbing her bag.
- I'm not gonna fight with you, Harry, - she says angrily, looking at him with hurt in her eyes. - You asked for my opinion, and I gave it to you. But if you're gonna react this way, you should ask someone else for advice next time. I have to go to my Runes class.
And she walks away, shaking her fluffy curls.
Guilt immediately spreads through Harry's heart. Although he doesn't agree with her point of view, he asked for her advice. And then he reacted in that way. Anyone would be offended.
- Hermione! - he calls out to her, but the door is already closing behind the girl.
He clenches his fists and looks down at them.
- I'm such a fool, - he mutters, and Ron puts his arm around his shoulder.
- Don't worry. You'll make up, - he reassures him.
Harry smiles weakly, deciding to talk to Hermione later and apologize to her. He hopes that she'll forgive him.
- Girls, - Ron rolls his eyes, - Even our Mione has been caught up in this romantic nonsense. Has she forgotten that your godfather isn't interested in a relationship at all? All he does is take care of you. It seems that he skipped the courtship phase and immediately plunged into parenthood.
Harry's smile freezes on his lips as he hears these words.
And indeed, he had always assumed that this was because Sirius was simply not interested in maintaining a serious relationship with anyone. However, in light of Hermione's words, his entire fate can now be viewed through the lens of the disturbing thought that Sirius might have harbored feelings for his father all these years. And then, all his actions, all his devotion and sacrifice, his attitude towards Harry as if he were his own son, take on a significance that pierces the boy's heart like a knife.
What if all these years Sirius was unrequitedly in love with his father?
This thought seems strange and absurd at first glance, but as soon as it appears in Harry's head, it takes possession of him, throwing all sorts of evidence at him.
Sirius was as close to his father as he was to anyone else. He often spoke fondly of the Marauders and their pranks, if you listen, by the middle of his story, most of his sentences started with "James and I", "Prongs", and "your father" in the middle of his stories.
In crowded rooms, Harry often noticed Sirius' gaze searching for his father, lingering on him.
By the time of Harry's parents' divorce, Sirius had his own flat near his work, which was tastefully decorated, cosy, and familiar, but he didn't hesitate to move in with James when he offered, citing the fact that he was bored living alone in Potter Manor after the divorce.
Not to mention how attached Sirius is to Harry, James' son.
Harry tries to figure out if he feels angry, jealous, betrayed, or any other negative emotion that this thought should evoke in him.
He understands that he's in pain. But he's not in pain for himself, but for Sirius.
Because if this is all true, if this guess is correct, then it means that for most of his life, his beloved godfather has been suffering in one way or another, because it is impossible to ease the pain in the heart from unrequited love, even if you wish your beloved only happiness and are willing to restrain your feelings.
Did Sirius feel the same burning jealousy that Harry felt when he saw Cho dancing with Cedric at the Yule Ball?
If Harry feels angry, it's directed at his father, who probably hurt Sirius for so many years. Did he know about his best friend's feelings? Did he guess about them?
Harry hopes not.
It's easier for him to accept that his godfather is in love with his father than that his father had deliberately caused Sirius to suffer.
How much pain must have caused Sirius to hear that Lily was pregnant with Harry?
And yet, Sirius loved him from the moment he was born.
Harry feels his vision blurring as tears well up in his eyes
- Harry?! - Ron looks into his face, worried. - What's the... Why are you...? Are you crying?
Harry throws his head back, keeping the tears in, and swallows the lump in his throat.
- Ron, I think Hermione is right, - he says in a choked voice.
Ron's eyes widen even more.
Harry smiles bitterly.
- Hermione's always right.
- Wow, - Ron says in a dazed voice.
A few minutes later, when Harry had finally managed to pull himself together and stop feeling the urge to cry, thinking about all the things that must have hurt his godfather, he decided to skip his Divination class.
- Are you sure? - Ron asks him for the fifth time, already holding the door handle. - I can stay with you if you want.
Harry smiles weakly to his friend.
- Thank you, Ron. But I need to think about it. I have to write something back to them.
The red-haired boy gives him another hard look, but nods and walks out the door.
Harry sits in silence for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts, then clears his throat and pulls a piece of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell out of his bag.
He doesn't know what to write back. Hermione is right, he's useless here. But he doesn't want to leave his father and godfather alone with their falling out, which is now clearly caused by his godfather's jealousy.
Harry wonders how Sirius has dealt with his jealousy all these years, and why he can't do it now.
He can almost see his father flirting with some snowboarder, while Sirius stands aside with a very sad expression, like a big dog that has been neglected and ignored.
The thought makes Harry's blood boil.
Couldn't his father just reciprocate?!
Harry bites his lower lip sharply as this sudden, furious thought crosses his mind.
Would that be a good thing?
He can almost see the two of them sitting together, holding hands and calling each other sweet names.
And then Harry freezes as he realises that this is exactly what his father and godfather do all the time.
He recalls the contents of all the letters, not daring to read them again.
Hermione was absolutely right! It's clear that his dad also has feelings for Sirius, and it's clear that he doesn't realise his own feelings.
At that moment, he felt even more hurt for his godfather, who, for some incomprehensible reason, had fallen in love with his neglectful father, when he could have had anyone he wanted with his charisma, charm, and good looks.
They say that children aren't responsible for their parents' mistakes, but Harry certainly doesn't want his beloved godfather to suffer from his father's stupidity.
He grabs a piece of parchment and starts writing.
Dear godfather!
I can't help but worry when my loved ones are fighting. And I worry even more when I feel like you're neglecting yourself.
My holidays will be wonderful if you and the dad talk to each other.
Sirius, you're an important part of our family. Nothing will change that. Know that I'll support you no matter what. I love you.
Harry
P.S. You know that the dad is too, don't you?
The letter is short and vague, but Harry just wants to convey to Sirius his willingness to support him, be on his side, and love him no matter what. Even if his godfather is truly in love with his father.
With this letter, he wants to calm Sirius down a bit. He knows that a phrase about love will melt the man's heart. This means that he might open the door and talk to James.
Now, Harry needs to write a letter to his father.
Dad!
Before you talk to Sirius, remember your first meeting. I've heard this story a thousand times. I remember you telling it with more excitement and tenderness than you did about your first World Quidditch match or the first time I called you dad.
I don't judge you, but I suggest you think about it. If Hermione's theory is correct, I expect you to understand everything.
Harry
And this letter should at least calm his father down a little before he talks to Sirius. Harry knows him well enough to know that James' current emotional state could lead to a worsening of their conflict.
Harry remembers how much these two men cherish their first meeting and the memories of it. It is likely that James will be gentle in his conversation with Sirius, influenced by these memories. Perhaps one of them will confess their feelings to the other, if they have any.
Relieved when the owls fly out the window, and hopeful, he decides to go to class. He also has to figure out what to say to apologize to Hermione.
Fortunately, Hermione doesn't seem angry when he approaches her after classes that evening, as she's sitting in a armchair by the fireplace in the common room, reading a book on Runes, clearly on Sirius' advice.
She forgives him so quickly that Harry probably doesn't deserve such loyalty, but Hermione shakes her head gently.
- I should have guessed that this idea might be overwhelming for you.
- That's what I thought at first, - he agrees. - But then I thought about what you said, and it made sense. It's not surprising, - he smiles, and she smiles back. - I've written letters for them to talk to each other. Now all I can do is wait. Or I could take a broomstick and follow the owls.
- Take your time, - Hermione reassures him. - You'll be there soon. But I'm sure they'll make up and be friends again by then.
Harry smiles awkwardly.
The idea that his father and godfather might be anything more than friends remains unspoken between them.
Despite the hopeful knowledge that Sirius and James have always appreciated each other and easily resolved minor issues, he feels anxious. It's silly, as he's unlikely to receive any news before tomorrow, but when he enters his bedroom, he notices Nochka sitting on the windowsill next to his bed.
Harry quickly approaches the bird. The room is cold and empty, and the window is wide open. He remembers that he forgot to close it when he sent the owls with letters for his father and godfather.
Harry is gripped by anxiety.
How long ago did his godfather’s owl arrive? What if it was hours ago? What could his godfather have written that was so important that the owl arrived on the same day that Harry had sent him his last letter?
Harry quickly closes the window and takes the envelope from the owl.
She hoots at him demandingly, but he waves her off.
- Wait, Nochka, let me read the letter first, and then I'll take you to the owlery and feed you.
The owl falls silent, tilting her head to the side as if she's curious to watch Harry read the letter from her owner.
Dear Harry!
Your support makes me immensely happy, but I'm also saddened by the fact that you have witnessed this situation.
You know your dad and you know me. Unfortunately, talking now is more likely to cause harm than good. Your father and I need to cool down, and then everything will return to normal.
That's why I decided to return home early.
I know you'll be very upset, because you've been looking forward to this holidays. But I believe you'll have a great time with your dad. Be gentle with him. He's no more to blame for our argument than I am. And I'll be waiting for you at home when you return.
With love,
your godfather
P.S. I'll teach you how to snowboard next time. But I'll understand if you don't want to wait. There're several snowboarding instructors at the hotel. Their services are already paid for.
Harry's heart aches as he reads this letter, and by the end, it's filled with pain and longing.
That's Sirius. He puts Harry's happiness above his own. He puts James' feelings above his own. And Harry knows that the greatest betrayal would be if they allowed him to do so, taking his love and loyalty for granted.
Harry grabs a warm robe. Although the portkey hasn't been delivered yet, he has Firebolt, the fastest broom that Sirius once gave him.
Harry doesn't care how many rules he breaks or what punishments he faces. He doesn't know when Sirius wrote this letter, but he's probably already at Potter Manor, or he'll be there soon. So Harry needs to go there to support and comfort his godfather, to keep him from sinking into the pain and sadness that are evident in every line of the letter he wrote.
But just as he opens the window again, intending to fly out of it without wasting time climbing down from the tower, Hedwig flies into the room, holding another envelope in her paws.
Although part of him wants to hurry, the part that he inherited from his father, the other part, which he inherited from his mother and was raised by his godfather, tells him that he should read this letter first.
Harry puts his broomstick against the wall and takes the letter from Hedwig. The snow-white owl settles quietly on the windowsill next to the black owl, and unlike Sirius' owl, she seems more well-mannered, as she doesn't immediately demand a treat. Perhaps she senses her owner's feverishness and anxiety.
Harry quickly tears open the envelope and extracts the letter, recognizing his dad's handwriting. It's a brief note.
Harry, you were right. I had to let him know that he's important. I was going to talk to him, but I found out that Sirius had gone into the woods to look for a portkey to return home.
I know you, so I'm asking you to do nothing and stay at Hogwarts.
It's night and a blizzard here, and the broomstick ride, which I'm sure you're going to take if Sirius had time to tell you about his intention to return home, is dangerous.
I'll find him and write to you.
Harry's father's letter makes him grit his teeth. Behind all these words, he can sense James' fear: Sirius had gone into the unfamiliar forest at night to search for a portkey.
Only a confident (and not without reason) Sirius would have done such a thing, just to avoid further conflict with his father. And few people besides James would have gone looking for him under such circumstances.
- Harry! - he hears a voice, and a warm hand rests on his shoulder. - Damn it, mate, you're shivering! - Ron exclaims, wrapping his arms around Harry's shoulders and turning him around. - What happened to you?
Harry can't bring himself to say what he's just read, so he passes the letter to Ron and goes to the wall to pick up his broom.
He can't fulfill his father's request, knowing that there's at least a small chance that his godfather is in danger.
- Hey! - Ron grabs his wrist as Harry picks up the broom and tries to climb onto the windowsill. - Your father told you not to do anything stupid!
- It's not stupid! - Harry says stubbornly, trying to break free from his friend's grip. - Sirius is in danger. My father might be too. I can't just sit back!
Ron's gaze softens, but his grip on Harry's wrist remains firm.
- I understand you, Harry. But how can you help them?
He bites his lower lip.
- I'll fly there and try to find them in the forest. Even if Sirius has already reached the Portkey and returned to the Manor, my dad will keep searching for him in the forest until the very end. I must help them.
- Harry..., - Ron begins, but Harry cuts him off abruptly:
- What, Ron? Don't talk me out of it. Wouldn't you do the same if your family was in danger? If Ginny was in danger?
- Of course I would, - Ron replies. - But wouldn't you try to stop me and tell me that rushing in to help might only lead to more trouble? What if you get lost there yourself?
- I... - Harry stammers. Although his emotions have taken over his entire mind, he understands the rationality of his friend's words.
- Let's tell Hermione, - his friend offers. - We can even go to McGonagall or Dumbledore. They'll figure something out.
Harry looks at him in annoyance.
- Maybe we should have a whole council? - he says sarcastically. - Let's spend a week until we decide what to do. Until it's too late!
He tightens his grip on the broomstick and makes another attempt to break free from Ron's grasp, but Ron pulls him back forcefully and wraps his arms tightly around Harry's waist, pressing him against his chest. The damn lanky athlete. Ron's Quidditch training has made his wiry body too strong for Harry to break free.
- Let's talk to Mione, - his friend insists, saying in his top of his head. - Today you have admitted that her advice is good. Let's hear what she has to say. If she says to fly, I'll fly with you.
Harry freezes, ceasing his struggle to escape Ron’s embrace. His friend’s devotion makes his heart skip a beat with gratitude and adoration.
- Hermione will never let us fly, - Harry grumbles, finally calming down, although his soul is still filled with despair, as if he were being hugged by a Dementor instead of his best friend.
He can hear Ron grinning into his hair, still holding him, but loosening his grip.
- First of all, you know that this girl is bold and decisive at the right moment, and secondly, even if she tells you not to fly, and you secretly fly out the window like an owl, I'll follow you.
- And she's likely to follow us, - Harry says with a hoarse chuckle.
Ron lets go of him with a quiet laugh.
- Of course you can't fly, Harry!
The three of them are sitting in an abandoned girls' bathroom on the ground floor. As soon as Hermione listened to Harry and his desire to fly to St. Anton, the worry on her face was replaced by a hard determination.
- We have to go to Dumbledore. I think your father warned the hotel staff that he was going into the forest, but if he didn't...
- He probably didn't do it, - Harry blurts out bitterly. Knowing how worried his father was about his friend's departure, he probably only managed to send Harry a short note, and, he rushed off into the forest to look for Sirius.
- If he didn't, - Hermione continues. - We need to ensure that the rescuers of the resort start looking for them. It's their job.
- But... there might be wild animals there, - Harry objects.
- Sirius and your father are wizards. Powerful ones at that. The cold and wild animals are no danger to them, - the girl replies.
Harry realises that this's true. From their stories, they often ran through the Forbidden Forest, both in their Animagus forms and as humans. The creatures that inhabit the Forbidden Forest are a hundred times more dangerous than wolves and bears.
- But how long will it take? How will the rescuers find them? I could fly over the forest.
- If there's a blizzard, you won't be able to see anything. Besides, I was with my parents in St. Anton when I was a child. It's a coniferous forest. You won't be able to see anything behind the snow-covered fir trees.
Harry locks his fingers in a painful lock. Every word Hermione says is filled with logic and reasonableness. But it doesn't help him to cope with the idea that if he doesn't do something, it'll only get worse.
- What are we gonna do, Hermione? - Ron asks, seeing Harry staring thoughtfully at the wall.
- I think we'd be more helpful if we went to Dumbledore and told him that your father and godfather had probably been caught in a snowstorm and probably hadn't informed the hotel staff. The Headmaster will think of a way to get the rescue team to go looking for them. And we'll wait until morning. By morning, the blizzard should be over, and if there's no news by then, we'll go there ourselves. Together.
She takes his hand, and Ron takes his other hand, and Harry bites his lower lip before looking at his best friends.
- So what? The decision is yours, Harry, - Ron says.
Harry clasps their hands in his and nods decisively.
- We'll follow Hermione's plan. But let's go not to Dumbledore, but to Snape.
Hermione's eyes widen, and Ron's mouth drops open in surprise.
Harry himself doesn't know why he came up with this idea. But it seems to him that this's a family matter, and Dumbledore may begin to control them, and won't allow him to go to St. Anton.
Snape, on the other hand, adores his mother too much and doesn't refuse to help him, but he isn't too caring and protective to require Harry to remain calm.
- Hasn't Professor Snape already left Hogwarts? - Hermione asks, and Harry shakes his head.
- Mum wrote to me that he'll leave tomorrow after breakfast.
- Then what are we waiting for? - Ron jumps to his feet. - Let's go to him faster.
The Professor reluctantly lets them into his room, raising his eyebrow at their worried expressions.
This's Harry's first time in Snape's room, and if he had the time, he would be curious to explore, but he doesn't have the time right now.
From the corner of his eye, he notices a large number of books that seem to have found a home on every horizontal surface in the living room. Through the open bedroom door, he sees an open, half-assembled suitcase filled with nothing but black clothes.
- Professor! - he blurts out, approaching the man. - I need your help!
Severus' eyes widen, but as he listens to Harry's brief account of James and Sirius' fight and that they may have gotten lost in the forest separately, and he couldn't help snorting and rolling his eyes.
- Will you help? - Hermione asks. - They may be in danger.
- And why am I not surprised, - Severus snorts, but quickly summons a magic radio from the windowsill, which transfigures into a landline phone.
- Will it work? - Harry asks anxiously.
- Potter, if you doubt my abilities so much, then wouldn't it have been better to go to Professor Lupin or the Headmaster?
Harry bites his tongue.
Snape hums and quickly dials a number on the phone.
A long minute passes before a quick smile touches his lips.
- The right frequency, - he explains to the three students' surprised looks. The phone rings.
- Tell them you're dad's friend and they'll listen to you, - Harry whispers.
Severus purses his lips.
At this point, the call is answered by the receptionist at the hotel, where, Harry knows, his father and godfather are staying.
- Good evening, - Snape says. - I have a small but important request for you. A few days ago, my distant relative and his friend stayed at your hotel. The family hasn't been able to contact them since lunch, which is unusual for them.
A woman's voice on the other end of the line says something to him, and he glances at Harry, covering the phone with his hand.
- What room are they staying in?
- The honeymoon suite, - Harry replies quickly.
Snape freezes for a second.
- Dear Merlin, - he mutters, but then resumes his conversation with the hotel employee.
- A couple of friends are staying in one of the suites. One of their sons told me that they haven't responded to his letter or called him tonight, even though they promised to. They also told him that they would go for a walk in the woods tonight. Please check their room. The child is very worried. Yes. Their names are James Potter and Sirius Black.
Harry listens with hope. Well... this's the reason why he didn't even consider going to Lupin. He probably wouldn't have been able to come up with such a plausible story so quickly. And Snape's deep, confident voice, with a hint of demand, encourages the hotel staff to act quickly rather than question his words.
The man replies, and he looks at him again.
- They're going to check their room.
A glimmer of hope that his father and godfather have found each other and are already back at the hotel flickers through him like a Lumos on a tip of the wand.
- We've checked, and they're not there, - he hears a woman's voice on the phone.
And it goes out, as if someone had whispered "Nox".
- Then there's a chance they might have gotten lost in the woods, - Severus tells the woman, and Harry wonders if the concern in his voice is just good acting for the hotel staff, or if he's genuinely worried about the life of the father of his beloved woman's child.
It's unlikely that Snape would ever let anyone know the answer to that question.
- Oh, my God! But it's a snowstorm right now, - the woman screams into the phone, sounding very worried. - Yes, we understand. We'll contact the rescue department right away. Don't worry. Sometimes this happens, and our rescuers have experience. They always find everyone. According to the protocol, they'll send a group of rescuers to search immediately.
- Thank you, - the Professor replies. - Please keep us informed. Write down this number, - he dictates a set of numbers. - This's my number.
- Thank you for the information, sir! - the employee replies. - My colleague is already talking to a department employee. As soon as there is any information, we'll call you immediately.
At this, Severus hangs up and looks at Harry.
- Did you hear that?
- Yes, - Harry nods, his voice heavy. He had hoped that his father and godfather would be all right by now, and now that he’s faced with the harsh reality, he doesn’t know how to find the strength to just wait and do nothing.
- Professor, can I stay here until you get a call from the hotel?
Severus gives him an unreadable look, but eventually nods curtly.
- If I let you go, I'm afraid you'll do something that will upset your mother, - he says, but there's no contempt in his voice, just a statement of fact.
The harsh words are already on the tip of Harry's tongue, but he swallows them, knowing that Snape is right.
The man turns away from him and looks at Ron and Hermione, who are standing and fidgeting, trampling the emerald-and-beige carpet on the floor, unsure whether they should stay in the Professor's room or leave.
Snape rolls his eyes and waves a hand carelessly towards a small sofa sitting by a coffee table in the middle of the room.
- You two sit down too. After all, you're obviously a triple act.
Harry can't help but smile briefly when he hears these words. He can only take this mockery as a compliment to their friendship.
As the three teenagers settle onto a small but comfortable sofa, Severus levitates a teapot, three cups, and a plate of biscuits onto the coffee table in front of them.
Harry is a little surprised that Snape has biscuits. This man doesn't look like he has a sweet tooth. He's almost curious to try it and find out what flavor the Professor prefers, but he knows he won't be able to swallow a crumb because of the anxiety.
He clutches a hot cup of bergamot tea in his hands, but this doesn't save him from shivering, because it's not caused by the cold.
Severus gives the three friends one last look, and, as if making sure they weren't planning on setting his room on fire, he heads to the bedroom to continue packing his suitcase.
The room is filled with a tense silence. The only sounds are the quiet rustling of clothes being folded and the gentle clinking of Harry's fingernails against the porcelain.
He should cut his nails.
He tries to think of a hundred other things he should do, but his mind keeps returning to his father and godfather. An icy dread grips his heart as he imagines them making their way through the snowy forest, perhaps lost and chilled to the bone. Magic lives as long as its source lives. And the source lives as long as there is magic. But how long can this circle survive in the midst of a nighttime snowstorm? Can they freeze to death?
He flinches, almost dropping the cup into his lap.
Hermione grabs her wand next to him, and Ron flinches himself, and some of the boiling water spills onto his fingers, making him hiss.
- So the honeymoon suite, eh? - Snape's voice is surprisingly emotionless as he speaks from the bedroom.
It's an honor. Even Dumbledore probably couldn't hide his curiosity in his voice when asking such a question. However, the Headmaster would hardly ask it.
- It's an accident, - Harry replies, finally taking his first sip of tea. It's still hot, scorching his tongue, but it feels good warming his throat and chest.
- Which I'm sure delighted your godfather, - Severus grunts, levitating his already packed suitcase into the living room.
- What are you implying? - Harry looks at him sharply.
Snape doesn't seem impressed by his outraged tone or his burning gaze.
He sits down in the armchair opposite the sofa and summons another cup from the cabinet, pouring tea into it. Only then does he say:
- Only what everyone who's observant enough to see it knows is that Black has always been obsessed with your father.
These words seem unpleasant to Harry. But not because of their content, but because of the way they are presented. How dare Snape treat his godfather's feelings like this? How dare he mock what has clearly been causing Sirius pain all these years, and still does, if the nature of his obsession stems from his romantic attachment.
- As you are with my mother? - Harry hisses back.
Ron chokes on his tea, and Hermione gasps quietly, grabbing Harry’s arm and squeezing it, as if demanding him to shut up.
Snape’s eyes fill with malice. He presses his thin, pale lips into a thin line before replying with equal venom:
- You're being arrogant, Potter. You came to ask me for help, and I'll not tolerate rudeness in my room.
Harry freezes. He doesn't know if this threat is real, but he doesn't want to find out.
- I'm sorry, Professor, - he says softly, looking down at his lap.
Fortunately, Snape doesn't say anything, and for a moment there is an oppressive silence in the room.
But Harry's mind is in complete chaos. And the man's words only added oil to the fire of his doubts and suspicions.
Even if Snape noticed... What did he mean by obsession? Because the Professor's obsession with his mother is perceived by the professor as love. Does he think that Sirius...
- Do you think Sirius is in love with my father? - Harry asks suddenly.
Ron chokes on his tea again and quickly puts his cup down on the table, coughing and muttering curses.
Hermione turns her head to Harry with an expression that says "what the hell? Shut up now!"
But Harry is only looking at Snape, waiting for an answer to his question.
Upon hearing the question, Severus' eyes widen, but by this point he seems to be recovering, putting on a composed face.
- Merlin, - he rolls his eyes again. - Potter, I have no intention of discussing the private lives of these two.
- I mean, - Harry continues, ignoring Hermione kicking his shoe lightly with her own. - Shouldn't Sirius be jealous, like...
He stops talking when he sees Snape's face turn pale. The man puts the cup down on the table with a clink, but instead of kicking them out, he clutches the arms of his armchair with his palms.
- Go on, Mr. Potter, - he says, not angrily, but bitterly. - You seem to be testing my patience.
For some reason, the Professor's tone, the barely concealed pain in his black, bottomless eyes, silences Harry.
He has touched some chord in the man's soul that should never have been exposed to him.
But here is Snape, sitting next to him, looking him straight in the eye, and struggling to maintain his composure.
- I'm sorry, - Harry apologizes sincerely this time, and only then does he look away.
Hermione and Ron sit silent, not daring to say a word, afraid of adding to the tension.
After a while, he can almost feel the oppressive atmosphere dissipate a little, and then Harry has the courage to look up and look at his Professor.
Snape is leaning back in the armchair. The elbow of his right hand rests on the armrest while the palm covers his eyes. He seems to be in deep thought.
- Tsk..., - he suddenly breaks the silence, slowly removing his hand from his face and looking up at Harry. Their eyes meet. - I suppose your godfather does have one positive trait. Although it always seemed to me to be infinitely stupid. A blind devotion to your father. Which he undoubtedly devoted to you as well.
Having said that, Snape gets up from his armchair and goes to the bookcase, starting to pack a second suitcase. This time with books and parchments.
Harry thinks about the man's words. This Sirius' devotion, which he said, had always been known to Harry. But never before had he thought that it could be so all-encompassing, since it could make Sirius swallow jealousy, resentment, and pain.
Those feelings that Severus couldn't swallow once.
Just as Harry reaches a point, where he feels an overwhelming desire to do anything to make sure his godfather never experiences this pain again, a phone rings in the silence of the room.
All eyes turn to the phone that Snape had left on the coffee table.
The man immediately approaches it and picks up the phone.
- I'm listening to you.
Hermione intertwines their fingers, and Ron's hand clenches on Harry's knee.
Everything in him freezes in anticipation of the news that will be given to them now.
The woman on the other end of the line starts to speak, and Severus snaps his fingers, the magic amplifying the sound so that they can clearly hear:
- ...They've been found, - and at this, Harry inhales noisily through his nose. - To be more precise, they've reached the hotel on their own, - and he exhales, closing his eyes. Ron's grip on his knee tightens, and Hermione lets out a shaky breath. - One of them is severely hypothermic, but they both refuse medical attention. We've insisted on a basic examination. The doctor said there're no frostbite. We escorted them to their suit. Mr. Potter asked us to tell his son that everything was fine and he would send him a letter soon. Don't worry. We asked the doctor to stay at the hotel overnight in case Mr. Potter and Mr. Black needed medical attention.
- Thank you for the good news. I'll tell Mr. Potter's son that he doesn't have to worry.
- Thank you for that...
After that, Harry no longer listens to what Snape and the hotel employee are discussing on the phone. The relief of the good news and the tight hugs of his friends seem to turn off his brain. He realises how much stress and tension have exhausted him. Now that everything is settled, he just wants to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow to go see his father and godfather. He's going to have a talk with them. He's going to hang a damned mistletoe over them if he has to, and he's going to charm it to make them have an honest conversation. He can't believe that Sirius and James got into this mess because they couldn't talk to each other. It didn't seem like a problem for them, but here we are, half-hysterical, half-asleep, and they're freezing.
But even this annoyance at them can't overshadow his happiness that his father and godfather have been found and are now safe.
This happiness is so great that he's almost ready to throw his arms around Snape.
This intention is probably obvious to everyone in the room, because Severus puts down the phone and takes a step back, looking at Harry, and Ron holds his friend firmly by the shoulders.
- Thank you, Professor! - Harry thanks him, probably louder than necessary.
The man winces.
- Calm down, Mr. Potter, - he grumbles. - I didn't find them.
- But you've been very helpful, Professor, - Hermione smiles to him.
- Yes, thank you, - Ron adds.
- And now... since you've heard the good news, isn't it time for you to go to your bedrooms and go to sleep?
Severus' desire to get rid of the three teenagers in his room is obvious, but they don't take offense.
- Have a nice Christmas, Professor! - Hermione is the first to say goodbye.
- And you, Miss Granger, - Snape nods.
Ron pulls Harry towards the door, saying goodbye to Snape.
But Harry is in no hurry to leave. He wants to say something nice to Snape. He'll probably regret it later, but he decides and blurts it out:
- Please, take care of my mom, Professor.
He could have sworn that the man's pale cheekbones were covered with a barely noticeable blush.
He quickly turns away, pretending to be busy transfiguring the phone back into a radio.
- I'll do it without your words, Mr. Potter, - he grumbles in a barely audible voice, and Harry smiles.
Only then does he allow his friends to pull him out into the corridor.
- Are you immortal, mate? - Ron blurts out, waving his hand. - I thought Snape would just incinerate you with his eyes, without the wand.
- I think the professor gave him a big break, seeing his condition, - Hermione nods.
Harry lets out a chuckle.
- Are you okay, Harry? - Hermione asks him a little worriedly, carefully studying his face.
He puts his arms around his friends' shoulders and smiles even wider.
- Absolutely!
The relief is intoxicating. The only thing that bothers him in the back of his mind is the need to get Sirius and his father to talk. But that's a problem for tomorrow. Today, he can just be grateful that the worst has passed. He wonders how his father and godfather found each other in the woods. He assumes that Sirius is the one, who was more severely frozen, but Harry knows that his father always carries a first aid kit with potions, so Sirius will be fine in no time. And perhaps this whole situation will make them reconcile. Harry hopes so very much.
When he enters the bedroom, he sees that Hedwig and Nochka are sleeping on the windowsill next to his bed, cooing softly in their sleep.
He's too tired to carry them to the owlery, so he decides to leave them here for the night.
Seamus and Dean are packing their trunks, and Ron suggests that Harry play a game of chess to distract himself and pass the time before bed.
Harry agrees, but loses all three games rather quickly. Even on his best days, he isn't as skilled as Ron, but when he's distracted, as he's now, he's a very dull opponent.
Ron, of course, notices this, and eventually suggests that Harry go to bed early.
Seamus and Dean have already gone to bed, their burgundy curtains drawn.
- Good night, Harry, - Ron says before drawing the curtain on his bed.
Harry smiles and wishes him a good night, then sits on the edge of his bed, glancing at his already packed trunk at the foot of the bed.
It's almost midnight, and he decides to go to sleep as well when he feels his nervous energy dissipating and being replaced by sleepiness.
As he throws the blanket aside to get into bed, he hears a light knock on the window.
He quickly turns around and sees Elvendork sitting on the ledge outside, staring at him with his big eyes. A letter is tied to his leg.
Harry quickly opens the window and lets the owl into the room. Elvendork soars in and lands on the windowsill, sitting next to a sleepily blinking Hedwig. Nochka grumbles something sleepily, but doesn't wake up.
All three owls are so exhausted from their long flights that they don't even show any activity at night, too tired.
Harry gently strokes the top of Elvendork's head in an apologetic gesture, and his father's owl hoots softly and contentedly. It's nothing like Nochka. This capricious animal only loves its owner and finds it difficult to accept affection from others, but it's very active in demanding treats, and it seems to get its way, considering how much space Sirius' owl takes up on the windowsill.
He takes the letter from the owl, wondering what else his father and godfather could have written to him. He's almost afraid to open it, but curiosity wins out.
He sits down on the bed and picks up his wand, muttering "Lumos".
A wisp of light illuminates the lines written in his father's handwriting.
Dear Harry!
Your godfather has been found. I've attached a photo. I've been told that our relatives have been calling, so I assume you already know that everything is fine.
But I know that you're probably still worried about our argument. You can stop worrying. Your godfather and I have reconciled.
And in light of all that has happened... You'll have your own room, Harry. We've reserved a suite for ourselves.
For reasons that we'll explain to you in person, we can't offer you a place in our room's crib.
Harry, I know that you love your godfather very much. So, when we tell you about the reason for all this, remember these feelings, and that Sirius loves you more than his own life. You know that your wishes are his command. This makes him very worried sometimes. I believe that you are a good godson, and you'll dispel his worries and respect his choice. If you feel angry, I'm at your service.
But we hope that you'll take this news well and be happy for us.
With love,
your father and godfather
P.S. now I realise that the whole point of my Animagus form was to gallop through the forest in search of your godfather and find him stuck in a snowdrift a mile from the portkey. I would have taken a photo, but it wasn't appropriate at that time.
Harry takes a magical photo out of the envelope.
Sirius is sitting on a banquette at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a huge duvet, holding a steaming cup in his hands, and his bare, hairy legs are dipped in a basin of what is presumably hot water.
Despite his pallor and the blue of his lips, his cheeks are very red, especially when he looks up and into the camera. And the corners of his thin lips curve into a smile that trembles with the cold.
Harry clutches the letter and the photograph in his hands, unable to stop smiling. He looks at the three owls cooing softly on the windowsill. His small white Hedwig, James' broad-winged beige-brown Elvendork, and Sirius' well-fed, black-as-night Nochka.
He'll have to carry all three cages tomorrow. But this thought doesn't diminish the feeling of happiness that fills his heart.
Of course, he's happy for them. After all, the mere thought that Sirius will always be a part of their family and never leave them makes him incredibly happy. And he's glad that his father and godfather agree with him.
He can't imagine a universe where he wouldn't be happy if Sirius was happy. Because he inherited his godfather's loyalty from being held against his chest as a baby, lulled by his heartbeat, his scent, his whispers of love, and the feeling of being adored.
