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Nearly eight months had passed since Sirius first brought Harry home, and he had finally started to feel like the dust was settling. Harry no longer tip toed around waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was still quiet and eager-to-please, but Sirius could see hints of the real Harry threatening to burst out of the boy that seven years at the Dursleys created. He laughed out loud without covering his mouth to muffle his giggles. He did chores when he was asked to, but he didn’t sneak around dusting knick-knacks when he could have been playing. He asked questions without fear, and his curiosity knew no bounds when it came to his parents.
In the days leading up to what would have been James’s 29th birthday, Harry wanted to know all about James. But despite the familiar feelings of grief and melancholy that threatened to overtake him this time of year, Sirius couldn’t deny his godson the answers he was looking for.
“What did my dad eat for breakfast?” Harry asked one day out of the blue, his legs swinging from side to side under the table as he enjoyed his own toast with raspberry jam.
“When he wanted a bit of luck, he had beans on toast.” Sirius replied, smiling fondly at the memory of James. “He was very superstitious, your father. He had beans on toast the morning of the first Quidditch match he won. After that, it was beans on toast and only beans on toast when he had a match or an exam or anything else that he needed a bit of luck for.”
“What did my dad like to do for fun?” Harry asked another day when they were building a tower out of Exploding Snap cards on the drawing room floor.
“He would have lived on his broomstick if he could have,” Sirius answered as he carefully placed another card. Before he could continue, the tower exploded and Harry leapt back with a shriek of laughter.
“Did my dad go to the park on Saturdays, too?” Harry asked as they walked to the park closest to their flat.
“Your dad grew up in the country.” Sirius replied. “He had a big garden to play in.”
“Did we have a garden at our house?” Harry asked next. “With room to play? And flowers?”
The question left Sirius with a lump in his throat as he thought about the little cottage in Godric’s Hollow that James and Lily had made their home in. He hadn’t mustered the courage to return to the cottage since their deaths; not when the images of their fallen bodies inside of it still haunted his dreams.
“Yes, you did.” Sirius said when he trusted himself to speak without faltering. “There was plenty of room to play and lots of flowers. Taking care of the flowers was your dad’s job. Your mum, bless her, had no green thumb to speak of. It was ironic, really, because her parents were florists. But your dad was happy to potter about in the garden. It runs in the family, I suppose.”
“Runs in the family?” Harry asked, cocking his head curiously.
“According to your grandfather, the Potter family got their name because the very first Potter was always pottering about in his garden. His neighbors called him ‘the Potterer’ and it stuck,” Sirius explained. Fleamont Potter had always been thrilled to share the Potter family lore with Sirius. He had hung on to the man’s every word, secretly wishing that his own family history had been full of potterers and inventors instead of pureblood supremacists and muggle hunters.
“We don’t have a garden.” Harry said a bit gloomily, his face downcast. His expression brightened when they reached the park and he dashed to the swings, but Sirius was left lost in his memories of little Harry toddling around the garden at Godric’s Hollow. Their London flat could never have a garden like the one Harry was supposed to grow up in, but maybe Sirius could bring a little piece of the country to it anyways.
The morning of James’s birthday, Sirius set two plates of beans on toast down on the breakfast table.
“Beans on toast!” Harry exclaimed, smiling brightly at Sirius. “Like my dad used to have!” In between bites he asked, “Do we need a bit of luck today?”
“It’s your dad’s birthday, so I thought we could celebrate it with a few of his favorite things. Once you’ve finished eating, I’ve got a little surprise for you.”
“A surprise? For me?” Harry asked. He had started to accept that Sirius was happy to give him things, but there was a still a hint of wonder in his voice at the thought of Sirius preparing a surprise just for him. Sirius leaned back and sipped his coffee while Harry rapidly cleared his plate. He was just as eager to reveal the surprise as Harry was to find out what it was. Having a project to focus on had kept the stranglehold of grief away, and his plans for the day were far better than how he usually spent James’s birthday.
“Is it time for the surprise?” Harry asked eagerly when his plate was empty and Sirius’s mug drained. Sirius levitated their dishes to the sink with a flick of his wand and stood up.
“I think it might be.” Sirius said with a grin as Harry leapt to his feet. “Do you think you can close your eyes for me? I’ll bring you right to the surprise.”
Harry chewed on his lip for a moment and then nodded. Sirius marveled in the trust that Harry was willing to put him in now. Months ago, the boy would never have been so willing to close his eyes in Sirius’s presence. Sirius placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and then waited until Harry had squeezed his eyes shut before leading him out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. They came to a stop in front of the balcony.
“Keep your eyes shut.” Sirius instructed.
“Can I look yet?” Harry asked. Sirius flicked his wand to open the balcony doors, and then stepped forward so he could see Harry’s expression.
“Now you can look.” Harry’s eyes flew open.
“It’s a garden.” Harry breathed in wonder as he stepped into the doorway.
“Go on,” Sirius encouraged. “You can go out.”
Harry stepped slowly out onto the balcony, which was now quadruple the size that it was supposed to be. Using an Undetectable Extension Charm on your private home was technically illegal, but Sirius had never been one to follow the rules. Especially when it came to Harry.
The balcony floor was now covered in grass and the edges were lined in flowerbeds. Sirius had painstakingly dug through his memories of the Potters’ garden at Godric’s Hollow and replicated the flowers that had been planted there the best that he could. It was a little slice of country in the middle of London. A little slice of James in a world without James.
Harry stood in the middle of the garden, where he was slowly spinning in place with a delighted smile on his face. Sirius stepped out to join him. “What do you think, kiddo? I did some of the planting, but there’s still work to be done. Would you like to do the forget-me-nots together today?”
Soon enough, the two of them were kneeling on the grass and digging in the flower bed that Sirius had left for the forget-me-nots. When the last plant was safely tucked into the soil, Sirius sat back on his heels to survey their work. Harry copied his posture and eyed the flowerbed for a moment. Sirius couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Harry with a trowel in his hand, his jeans stained with grass and dirt smeared across his cheek. There was something about the sight that just felt right.
Harry turned to Sirius, his green eyes shining. “I’m a potterer now, Sirius! Just like my dad!”
“You sure are, kiddo.” Sirius reached out and ruffled the boy’s messy black hair, blinking back tears. “You can potter about the garden whenever you want.”