GGSB Fest 2024 - Perfect First Day

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - First Day of School

Sirius isn't ready for Harry's first day of primary school, but it turns out it's perfect.

AO3

***

Despite the fact that Sirius had gotten to spend the last few years as a stay-at-home parent and knew that this time was coming, he’s still sad even as he packs Harry’s bag for his first day of school. They had gone shopping the day before to make sure he had all of his school supplies. He’d picked out a nice outfit for the first, and once he’s packed, it’ll be time to tuck Harry in and before he knows it – they’ll be at the school… for Harry’s first day.

“Pads?” the small voice of his godson says from the top of the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a minute to help tuck you in, just change into your pajamas.”

“Okay!”

It only takes a few more minutes before he steels himself and goes upstairs. Tonight was the last night before everything would begin to change.

“Ready for bed, kiddo?” Sirius asks, a smile – only slightly forced – on his face. He has no idea what he’s going to do without his kid for hours every day.

“Yeah!” Harry cheers.

“What kind of bedtime story are you looking for tonight?” Sirius questions.

“Will you tell me about your first day of school?”

Sirius let's out a little laugh as he sits beside Harry’s bed. “Well, your dad and I didn’t go to primary school – only Hogwarts, and I’ve told you about meeting your mum and dad on the train ride to school, but your mum did go to primary school.”

“Will you tell me about her first day, then?”

Sirius hums. “Well, she always liked to say that she met her best muggle friend on the first of school. She had sat in the wrong seat and another classmate of hers had said that it was her seat – they were arguing as much as five-year-olds can argue and it turns out her name was Lila and with your mum’s name as Lily – they were so close it was easily mistaken. The teacher thought they should separate the girls, but they became friends instead.”

Harry’s looking at him like that wasn’t much of story – which makes sense, his own story about meeting on the train and James pulling an imaginary sword had been far more entertaining.

“Do you think I’ll make a friend like mum did?” Harry asks, eyes wide like he’s worried about that.

Sirius smiles softly at him. “I’m sure you will, but not if you’re grouchy from lack of sleep. So, get some sleep – big day tomorrow.”

Harry pouts a bit before he yawns. “Night, Pads.”

“Night, kid.”

***

In the morning, Sirius packs Harry’s lunch before helping him with his backpack and taking him by the hand to walk him to the school down the street. His kid is happily chattering on and on about what school might be like and not at all noticing that Sirius isn’t nearly as ready for this as he pretends to be.

He knows that this is what Lily (and James) would’ve wanted, but after so long of never being away from one another, Sirius can’t help freaking out a bit.

He’s just not ready for this – Harry’s not ready for this – maybe … maybe it would be better to hold him back a year … or homeschool him…

But they reach the school before Sirius knows it and he’s … disappointed.

He’s not ready for this.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter as they enter the school and Harry happily finds his classroom rather quickly for his age. The teacher greets Harry and says, “Mr. Potter, please go ahead and help Harry find his desk – you can stay until class starts.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says. He doesn’t correct her. James’ parents had practically adopted him, and he hates the Black name, so when they moved, he simply decided to go by Potter, made things easier.

He helps Harry find his desk next to a little boy, whose name plate reads Dean Thomas, and he smiles at the mother beside him.

“Look Dean, here’s your deskmate,” the mother says. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The little boy – Dean – smiles and introduces himself, and Harry smiles and does the same after a quick nod from Sirius.

Then, in his excitement once Dean shows him what he’d been drawing, Harry turns to him and says, “Look, Paddy, I made a friend.”

Sirius barely stifles his laugh as he says, “You sure did.”

Before anything else could be said, the teacher calls for last goodbyes and he hugs Harry tight, like he doesn’t want to let him go, and barely contains his desire to cry. Another parent – not Dean’s mother – says, “Don’t worry, the day will go by faster than you think.”

Sirius nods, and let's go, telling Harry to be good and learn lots before following the other parents outside the classroom. The one that had spoken to him, introduces himself as Holly’s father, and says, “First one?”

“And only,” Sirius says. “He’s technically my godson/nephew. I won’t have kids of my own, but I’ve been raising him since we lost his parents. I was a stay-at-home parent and now… well, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Holly’s father gives him a small smile as they leave with Dean’s mother. “Well, I’ve got a small shop that works on motor vehicles. You know anything about that?”

Sirius grins. “I built my motorbike from scratch. I love motor vehicles.”

“Maybe we could go out to eat and talk about it?”

“I’d like that.”

“Then, let’s go.”

***

Sirius could admit that he rather liked Holly’s father and Dean’s mother (who had come along as well, purely because she also expressed an interest). Their outing had helped pass the day (which did go quickly) before they arrived to pick up their kids.

As soon as he sees Sirius, Harry takes off at a run and straight into a waiting Sirius’ arms. He’s already babbling about his day and his new friends Holly and Dean.

“I made new friends, too,” Sirius teases, gesturing at Holly’s father and Dean’s mother. The adults laugh, but Harry cheers and it’s wonderful.

Holly’s father claps him on the shoulder and Dean’s mother smiles. “I’ll see you both tomorrow?”

“We’ll be here.”

“Good.”

With that, they all wave goodbye and start to head home.

Harry reiterates his entire day all happy and excited and honestly, there’s nothing better than this.

He’s so thrilled that it’s all worked out – they’re both happy and they’re off to brighter future.

The perfect first day of school.

Something He Never Got To Say Before

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

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

But he isn’t meant for it.

Harry stares at the words.

Oh, and I’m sure my dad will~

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

Dad.

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

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

It shouldn't hurt as much as it does.

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

You're the best, Harry.

It's enough. It should be.

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

And yet, he finds himself wanting more.

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

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

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

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

“That woman at the—”

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

Harry fights back tears.

“Who is, then?” he whispers.

“You don't have a mother, you idiot.”

One of the words he learns that day is orphan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sirius blinks.

His spoon clatters on the plate.

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

Way to go there, Potter. “Er—I mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

201 notes View Post

medasavagepotter

1 year ago

Can anyone please write a prongsfoot fluff bromance fic and tag me really need it

what do you think we’d do, let them starve?

Just a little drabble based on this line in OOTP, cause it always makes me think, "well, that is pretty much what you did to Harry..."

“And as for who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,” said Lupin, smiling slightly, “what do you think we’d do, let them starve?”

Mrs. Weasley smiled tremulously.

As Mrs. Weasley mopped her eyes and muttered that she was being silly, Lupin’s words washed over Harry.

“What do you think we’d do; let them starve?”

That’s what they did to him, Harry thought bitterly. They’d dropped him off on his aunt and uncle’s doorstep and left him there for ten years. Nobody had cared about the days and nights he spent in his cupboard with his stomach grumbling, hoping that he could sneak out to steal food from the kitchen after the Dursleys fell asleep.

A sharp feeling of hurt shot through him as Lupin continued to comfort Mrs. Weasley, and Harry abruptly turned on his heel and left the room. He climbed the stairs two-at-a-time, desperate to get away from the others before they noticed that something was wrong. He climbed the stairs until there were no more stairs to climb, ending up in the attic. It was cluttered with furniture, trunks, boxes, and other knick-knacks, but Harry found a clear spot and squished himself in between a battered steamer trunk and a side table that had legs carved to look like snakes.

He tucked his knees up, wrapped his arms around his legs, and buried his face in his knobby knees. He was not going to cry. He was not going to get upset. He was going to sit here and breathe until all of these stupid emotions stopped stirring around in his chest, and then he was going to go back downstairs with no one the wiser.

Off in the distance, he could hear another set of footsteps climbing the stairs. He waited for them to stop off at one of the floors, but they kept coming and coming until the attic door creaked open. Harry didn’t move. He didn’t even lift his head. Maybe if he stayed squished here in this spot, whoever it was wouldn’t notice.

“Mind if I join you?”

Harry didn’t want to see anyone. But of all the people who had come after him, he was glad it was his godfather. Harry shrugged awkwardly, still not looking up. Sirius picked his way through the clutter, pushed the steamer trunk aside, and sank down beside Harry so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Sirius bumped his shoulder gently. “Are you all right, Harry? That boggart scared me, seeing your dead body laying there.”

Harry slowly raised his head to look at his godfather. Sirius looked even more pale and drawn than he usually did. Harry hadn’t even thought of how the boggart would have affected him.

“I’m all right,” Harry muttered.

Harry was grateful when Sirius didn’t push him to say more. They sat in a comfortable silence for a long while, with Harry slowly slumping and leaning into Sirius’s side. Sirius tucked one long, skinny arm around Harry’s back and pulled him closer into his side.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen,” Sirius said gently.

“Talk about what?” Harry asked grumpily.

“About why you ran off like there was a Hungarian Horntail on your tail,” Sirius replied. “Was it just the boggart?”

“No,” Harry admitted after another long silence. “It was something else.”

“Thought so,” Sirius said. Harry wanted to roll his eyes at his godfather’s smug tone.

“It was what Lupin said after,” Harry said.

“What Remus said after?”

Harry tilted his head to look up at his godfather, who was looking down at him with a furrowed brow.

“Mrs. Weasley was worried about what would happen to Ron and Ginny if she and Mr. Weasley died. And Lupin said that they wouldn’t let them starve,” Harry repeated.

“And that upset you?” Sirius asked curiously.

Harry shrugged and looked down at his hands, twisting the edge of his t-shirt.

“It didn’t matter when it was me,” Harry mumbled after a long silence. “I – I was hungry all the time growing up. And nobody ever checked on me.”

Sirius swallowed hard and tucked Harry even closer into his side. Harry buried his face in his godfather’s shoulder to hide the tears that he could feel prickling in the back of his eyes.

“I used to sit in my cupboard and dream about someone coming to save me. But no one ever did. Not until Hagrid brought my Hogwarts letter. And even then, I still had to go back. I always have to go back.”

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius whispered into his hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you then. But I’m here for you now. And I’m not going to let you go back.”

Harry didn’t want to get his hopes up. He had before, and they had been torn away from him as fast as a hippogriff could fly. But as he sank into Sirius’s comforting embrace in the dusty old attic of Grimmauld Place, he so badly wanted to believe that this could be it: this could be the day that he was finally saved.

567 notes View Post

medasavagepotter

1 year ago

this is true! fight me!

A Tale of Two Sisters

The day Lily Evans joined the order of the Phoenix was the day Molly Weasley became an older sister for the second time, and the day Lily gained the older sister she missed dearly. Fabian and Gideon Prewett had died a couple months before Lily joined. Petunia Evans rejected Lily the moment her letter came.

When Molly first met Lily and James, she saw her and Arthur reflected. A young couple straight out of Hogwarts, happy and deep in love. It didn't take long for the two women to become close friends.

They confided nearly everything with each other. They cried when their friends fell in battle, they fought together, and they rejoiced together when James finally popped the question.

In 1979, Lily and Molly became pregnant around the same time. The only difference was that this was Lily's first and Molly's sixth. So, Molly guided Lily through her pregnancy and they supported each other.

Lily was there when little Ron was born in March, Molly was there when Harry was born four months later, and the two lost sisters found a home in one another.

They cried once more when Lily, James, and Harry had to go into hiding. No letters, no visits, no nothing. Their family was at great risk, and Molly knew that. Still, she hugged Lily tight.

Three months of total radio silence nearly drove Molly mad.

August, September, and October came and went with no news. More members of the Order of the Phoenix died. They were getting desperate. The Ministry had fallen long ago.

Then, came the first of November.

News reached Molly and Arthur by mail. YOU-KNOW-WHO DEAD, BOY-WHO-LIVED ONLY SURVIVOR, greeting them. At first, they celebrated. With You-Know-Who dead, their children could continue to grow safely, without the threat of a Dark Lord.

Later that night, when all of the celebrations had died down and the little ones had all been tucked in, Molly took the time to read the whole article. It wasn't perfect, and had clearly been written in a rush, and it quieted her nonetheless.

Then, Molly wept for the little sister she used to have, for the brother-in-law she cared for, and for their son, who would grow up without his mother and father.

When she learnt that her youngest son had befriended Lily's son, she cried bittersweet tears, for the could-have-beens and the friendship that was always meant to happen.

4 notes View Post

medasavagepotter

1 year ago

Nope, me too but I thought I was the only one

the real reason harry’s hair was so long in gof was because he had just met sirius and thought his hair was sick as fuck so he started growing his out

705 notes View Post

medasavagepotter

1 year ago

love this

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you, Harry.

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

38 notes View Post

medasavagepotter

1 year ago