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Harry tugs on Remus’s hand, dragging him outside. “Moony!” he yelps, attempting to break into a run. “Come on!”
Remus sighs and lets him walk them into their backyard. Since they moved out to the country a few years ago, which had been entirely Remus’s idea since Sirius seemed perfectly content to stay in that tiny London flat forever, they had been blessed with a whole lot of outdoors for Harry to run around in. Today was a big deal though, arguably the biggest of all deals in Harry’s relatively short life thus far.
Because today, Harry James Potter was going to be allowed to get on a real, genuine, very-much-not-a-toy broom for the very first time.
They’d had a screaming match about it late in June. Sirius had come home with whatever the latest model of Nimbus had been, his eyes sparkling as he announced the broom as Harry’s birthday present. He and Remus had fought for hours, Remus saying that he couldn’t make a decision like that without Remus’s input and Sirius retorting that Remus was controlling him and accusing him of being a bad parent—it was one of their worst arguments since they’d taken in Harry.
The yelling had stopped at one in the morning, but the frost had lasted until the next evening, when Harry had flung himself on the couch in between them asking for a “together story time.” Sirius had smiled at Remus and just like that it was over. Remus remembered when at school, during the war, they could fight for months at a time without making up, just living in the passive-aggression. Harry simplified things, though; he meant that they had to make up quickly, the incentive they had always lacked before.
Remus had talked with him about it, of course. They settled on giving the broom to Harry for his seventh birthday. They were both going to be up in the air with him (Sirius on his old broom, Remus on the one James had given him so many years before), flanking him on either side to make sure he was entirely safe.
He knows, in his head, that Harry will be absolutely fine. But when he finally sets eyes on Sirius, three brooms under his arm, Remus’s nerves go into overdrive. He’s always hated flying himself, and he was absolutely awful at it. Surely, he wasn’t skilled enough to intervene if anything went wrong. Of course he was still concerned; they were lucky to be entrusted with Harry, and he was loath to do anything that might jeopardize their situation, even if it was as simple as allowing Harry to injure himself flying.
Harry bolts from Remus’s side, running to hug his godfather. Sirius laughs and pats Harry on the head before kneeling down and whispering something in the boy’s ear. As Remus gets closer he can see Sirius put Harry’s broom on the ground and hear him teaching Harry how to bring it up to his hand, for control. Something that the first years usually learned in their first flying class. Good for Sirius, then , Remus thinks, going in the correct order to teach Harry .
Harry’s broom flies to him on his very first try. Remus almost gasps, thinking of how proud James would have been. He looks over at Sirius, who is a little misty-eyed, and surmises that his partner is thinking about something very similar.
It’s a blur after that. They get on the brooms, and everything is going well. Harry is a natural, of course, and zipping around at a faster pace than either Sirius or himself, but he’s doing so well that they let him stray. Remus and Sirius decide to stay floating in midair, content to watch Harry fly in laps around. They’re talking about something entirely inane, their grocery list perhaps, allowing themselves to get a little distracted when they hear a shriek.
Remus whips his head towards the noise and sees Harry’s broom flipped, so the boy is now flying upside down. Harry doesn’t look alarmed (a little confused, maybe) but he grips the broom tight just as they’ve taught him. Harry smiles and lets out a small laugh, seemingly adjusted to his new position and enjoying it.
The clench in Remus’s stomach just… doesn’t come. They’re not far off the ground, and if anything was going to go wrong he or Sirius could easily float Harry down to the ground safely. Remus laughs along with Harry, realizing that the boy is having fun.
That is, until Harry is grabbed off of his broom by a dark blur travelling at the speed of light. The blur reveals itself to be Sirius when he lands on the ground, arm around Harry. “Harry James Potter,” Sirius says, all calm fury, “you are never getting on a broom again.” And with that he storms off into the house, leaving a crying child and a still-flying man in his wake.
+
It takes Remus nearly thirty minutes to calm Harry down. He’s crying, as seven-year-olds often do, and Remus continues to reassure him that he had done nothing wrong, and that was definitely not the last time he would ever be allowed to fly.
Eight years ago, his urge would have been to sulk, or to immediately chase after Sirius and yell. They might not have resolved the issue for weeks, even once they had been entirely honest about their feelings. That had always been their way; blustering and shouts until someone caved. But eight years ago they didn’t have Harry, and so sulking and Sirius will have to wait.
Eventually Harry manages to cheer up and Remus sends the boy on his way to do some coloring with half a chocolate bar. It takes less time for him to find Sirius, who’s sitting on their bed and looking out the open window. Remus creeps into the room quietly, looking at Sirius twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “Filthy habit,” he says, trying to get the other man's attention.
To his credit, Sirius doesn’t startle. He continues to look at the cigarette in his hands for a moment before turning to Remus and responding, “This is the first one I’ve touched since we quit. Remember?”
Remus does. It had been Sirius’s idea, actually, two months after they’d taken Harry home. November grief had bled into December and the need to give Harry a happy holiday season. It wasn’t until January they had a chance to look around at their life and take stock. Sirius had immediately proclaimed that smoking was to be allowed no more, as it was going to damage baby Harry’s “delicate lungs.”
It was Remus who had put up a fight, having smoked regularly for much longer than Sirius. It was their first argument after they brought Harry home, and everything came out: Remus’ frustration and Sirius’ distrust of him, Sirius’ anger at Remus’ unwillingness to stay open. It had ended with sobbing and kissing and later, when they were curled around each other in bed, Remus kissed Sirius gently on the nose and promised he would quit.
“I do,” Remus says softly, sitting beside his partner.
Sirius looks straight ahead. “Harry okay?”
Remus shrugs. “He’ll be fine. Confused about what he did wrong, mostly.” Sirius sighs and puts his head in his hands. Remus knows this gesture well. This is Sirius’s near patented “am-I-worse-than-my-parents?” sulk. Remus puts a hand on his shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”
It takes a moment, but Sirius nods. “Harry was never part of the plan, you know?” He suddenly looks aghast with himself and continues. “I don’t mean like that, you know I would do anything for him, but I never thought it would be me— well, us — having him.”
When Sirius’s words sink in, Remus replies with a single sentence. “You once told me you didn’t want to get married.”
“It’s not that I don’t love you Moony, it’s just everything I knew about it was so messed up. And we can’t even get married, so of course why would I want to? Kids were the same thing. I was perfectly happy being Harry’s cool godfather for the rest of my life.” Sirius pauses to take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to do this, Remus. I can’t risk Harry being a part of my mess. Not when he deserves so much better, not when he was supposed to have them .”
Remus laughs and Sirius glares at him. “Oh, come on,” Remus explains, “you think Prongs wouldn’t have wanted you to put his son on a broom? Well, Lily probably would have flipped, so I guess in this scenario you’re the missus.” The glare intensifies and Remus raises both hands in defeat. “Okay, sorry. Was just trying to lighten the mood.” Remus pauses for a moment. “I don’t know how to do it either, you know.”
Sirius groans. “Don’t you get it Moony? That makes it worse , because somehow you manage to be good at it.”
It takes him a second to understand what Sirius is saying. “Sirius. Do you not think you’re a good parent?” Sirius’s lack of responses tells Remus everything he needs to know. “Oh, god. Sirius, I thought you got past this ages ago.”
The darker-haired man turns and fixes him with an incredulous look. “I’m sorry, are you making fun of me right now? While I’m vulnerable and laying it all out for you or whatever?”
“Shit,” Remus says, running his hand through his hair, “I’m mucking this up. I was never good at the whole comfort thing, was I? James used to send me in when you needed to get your head out of your arse, he was the one who was able to do it nicely. But, to be fair, you never liked all the gentle hand holding shite anyway. Erm, okay.” Remus takes a deep breath. “Sirius Black, if you can not see that you’re an incredible parent you’re more of an absolutely idiot than I thought you were.”
“Not helping.”
Remus stifles a chuckle. “I mean it! Merlin’s sake, if I had it my way he never would have been on that broom in the first place, and that wasn’t right either, was it? You were the one who saw him in trouble and fixed it. It’s not like you just get to be a ‘good parent’, it’s something we work at, every single day. And I know you do.”
Sirius sighs. “I have to let him get back on the broom, don’t I?”
“Yeah, love,” Remus says, “you do. But I’ll be right next to you, and nothing bad will happen. Plus, you and Prongs used to do way more dangerous things than getting on a broom with parental supervision.” That makes Sirius snort, which leaves Remus feeling a little lighter. “They would want us to raise him, Sirius, mistakes and all. Not suffocate, shelter, or stifle him.”
“Okay,” Sirius says, “Yeah. You’re right. Do you think if I give him some candy he’ll forgive me?”
Remus rolls his eyes. “Stop trying to bribe your way into Harry’s heart so close to dinner. You’ll ruin his appetite. Plus, I already gave him sugar to cheer him up earlier”
Sirius laughs, fully this time. “Remus! What happened to no stifling , no suffocating ! Not giving Harry some before dinner sweets would be sheltering him, wouldn’t it?”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Sirius says, grinning at him. “The sooner I catch him, the sooner he’ll forget all about this. Maybe we can take him back up again tomorrow? Oh, Moony, can you take this?” Sirius shoves the cigarette at him, which Remus had entirely forgotten he’d been holding onto this entire time. It brings back a host of memories, every time Sirius had handed Remus a cigarette in the past. In another life, one without the war and without Harry, this might still even be a regular occurrence. Remus takes it from Sirius gently, plucking it from the other man’s palm between his thumb and his forefinger. It’s lighter than he’d remembered. “Just bin it or whatever. I’ll see you in a bit.” Sirius finishes, jumping up and running off to assuage his guilt by bribing Harry with sugar.
Remus looks down at the cigarette in his hand. Somewhere in the back of his head he remembers how much he likes smoking, how relaxing it feels to take a puff and exhale slowly, how calming the whole routine of lighting up is. Part of him wants to take a quick drag and blow everything out the window, with Sirius and Harry none the wiser. Just the one time, after a stressful day, doesn’t he deserve it?
But then he remembers what he’d told Sirius just minutes before. “Every single day,” Remus mumbles to himself as he stands up. He walks over to the window and promptly chucks the cigarette out of it.