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“Again, thank you both,” Andy says as she ushers Teddy through the door. Her hair is slicked into an elaborate updo, and she’s wearing her best robes. “I know this was last minute.
“It’s no problem at all,” Sirius assures her, kissing her offered cheek. “We love having him over.”
Some of the tension in Andy's shoulders eases in near imperceptible relief. "I'm glad to hear it."
“Now go,” Sirius shoos her back to the street where Narcissa is waiting (Sirius would invite her in, if only to give her and Harry a moment to catch up since they’ve last spoken, but he knows they’re in a hurry). “You don’t want to be late.”
“Give Harry my best,” Andy calls as she does as commanded.
Sirius grins. “I will.”
With a sharp crack, the sisters disappear. Teddy latches onto his trousers with a little hand, and he takes it, leading him further inside and letting the front door click shut behind them. “Have you eaten lunch yet?” he asks.
Teddy shakes his head.
“Chicken nuggets?” Sirius suggests. He’s pretty sure they still have some; Harry tends to pick a bag up anytime he runs to the shops, precisely for these visits.
“Dinosaurs?” Teddy asks.
Sirius checks the cupboard with the freezing charm. “Dinosaurs,” he confirms, pulling the package down to the counter.
Harry comes in from the garden as they’re setting them out on a baking sheet. Sirius tugs him into a hug, ignoring his protests (“I’m covered in dirt, Sirius!”) and smacking a loud kiss onto his cheek.
“Hey, Teddy Bear,” Harry greets once he escapes, ruffling Teddy’s hair. “How ‘bout some broccoli with those nuggets?”
Teddy turns his questioning gaze on Sirius, who nods, solemn as he can.
Teddy nods back, then says, “Okay!”
Sirius dutifully summons a head of broccoli.
“I’m off to shower,” Harry says over his shoulder as he heads for the stairs. “I’ll join you when I’m done.”
“Okay,” Teddy says again.
“Have fun,” Sirius offers.
Harry scoffs, then smirks over his shoulder and says, “Not without you.”
Without an ounce of shame, he flounces off, leaving a flustered Sirius to help an oblivious Teddy count out another row of nuggets for Harry.
After lunch, Teddy spends about an hour playing with a toy broom, zipping back and forth between the targets Harry and Sirius set up in the garden.
When he tires, Sirius accompanies him inside, where he makes sure to be appropriately impressed while Teddy reads to him. He’s just started picking out another book for Teddy to read when he hears, “Can I ride a real broom?”
Movement in the hall draws his gaze, and he looks up to see Harry has stopped to listen, leaning in the doorway with a look that makes Sirius feel warm from the top of his head to his toes.
When Harry doesn’t interrupt, he looks back to Teddy.
“You don’t like your broom?”
Teddy sighs, tilting over to bury his face in Sirius’s arm. “It’s so slooow,” he whines. “I can’t do anything.”
Sirius adjusts so Teddy is tucked under his arm instead of just leaning against it. “A real broom is dangerous,” he says, quite sensibly if you ask him.
“Victoire rides a real broom.”
In the doorway, Harry grins, shaking his head. “Alone?” Sirius prompts.
Teddy huffs, pouting. “No,” he admits. Then he turns to face Sirius fully, his impressive puppy dog eyes on full display, with his hands clasped beneath his chin. “But I really want to.”
Sirius schools his features, knowing better than to let him think it’s working. “Have you asked Harry?” he asks.
An important question, they’ve both learned recently.
Apparently, the Weasleys (both the newest generation and the aunts and uncles) have been teaching him all sorts of tricks. Chief among them: how to play two adults off of each other.
It’s burned them before.
Teddy’s shoulders slump. “Yes.”
Sirius clears his throat so he doesn’t laugh at his exaggerated dismay. “And what did he say?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.” As he expected. He makes a face at Harry, who's still just watching, looking highly entertained. “And you think I’m gonna say yes, why?”
Teddy glares, and Sirius can admit to being impressed by how long he holds it; he admires the dedication. Then Teddy perks up, a mischievous glint in his eyes before a cherubic smile spreads over his face. “Because Harry’s not the boss of you,” he chirps.
Sirius breaks, laughing.
He can’t help it.
“Nice try, kid,” he says, ruffling his hair. He meets Harry’s gaze again, winks. “But Harry’s been the boss of me longer than you’ve been alive.”
In the doorway, Harry rolls his eyes.
But when he leaves Sirius to field Teddy’s renewed complaints alone, he’s smiling.
The next morning, they see Teddy off with a belly full of strawberry crepes and limbs entirely free of scrapes or bruises for Andy to fuss over. Once the pair disapparates, Harry corners him in the kitchen—tucks himself up against Sirius’s back, presses his forehead between his shoulder blades.
“Oh, hello,” Sirius says, folding his hands over Harry’s on his stomach. “What’s this for?”
“I love you,” Harry tells him.
Sirius grins, warmth blooming in his chest. “I love you, too.”
“I love watching you with Teddy,” Harry adds, squeezing, only letting up when Sirius grunts. “You’re so good with him.”
“So are you.”
“Excuse you,” Harry says in mock offense, then grips him by one arm, spins him around and crowds him back against the counter. “I’m trying to compliment my husband, if you don’t mind.”
Sirius raises his hands in surrender, not even trying to keep the grin off his face. “By all means.”
But more praise doesn’t come; instead, Harry presses up onto his toes and kisses him breathless. Then again, and again, until Sirius forgets what the kisses are for.