R

Puppies

As they stepped out of the grocery, Harry froze in his tracks, gripping Sirius’ arm. Sirius, alarmed, flexed his hand with the instinct to draw his wand, searching the streets around them for signs of Death-Eaters.

“What is it?” he hissed at Harry.

Harry pointed a trembling finger at a cardboard box shoved up against the storefront window. The contents were dark and . . . Wriggly?

When Sirius realized what he was seeing, he scowled. “Absolutely not.”

Harry’s head snapped around. Sirius made the mistake of looking at him. His eyes were wide and wounded behind the stylish acrylic framed glasses they’d picked out together.

Shit. His resolve was already crumbling, and Harry hadn’t even asked yet.

“Sirius,” Harry began lowly, “puppies.”

Sirius hastily looked away. It was too late, though. Harry rarely asked for anything, and Sirius got a thrill from giving him even things he *hadn’t* asked for—there was no way he was escaping a direct request.

“I’m—” he was grasping for something—“not a dog person.”

Harry’s incredulous laugh startled Sirius into accidentally looking down at him again, and—fuck. Harry smiling delightedly was even more irresistible than Harry pleading.“You,” Harry said deliberately, releasing his arm to poke him in the chest, “are a literal dog person.” He turned briskly, obviously sensing he’d won, and bent over the box. “Oh, Merlin, Sirius. Look at them.”

They were, in fact, wriggling black puppies, and Sirius wasn’t a dementor, so he was smiling a little at one tiny grinning face even before Harry scooped her out of the box and held her up, beaming.

“We’re officially parents.”

Sirius’ reluctant delight vanished at once. “We aren’t!” he snapped, horrified.

Harry gave him a patient smile and rolled his eyes again. “You hold her. I’m going to nip back in for some supplies.” He thrust the puppy at Sirius and disappeared.

Sirius peered doubtfully at the puppy, who, still wriggling, managed to lick his chin. Her breath smelled like heaven and her little body was velvet.

Within a minute or so he had her cradled next to his cheek.

“Who’s a lovely girl?” Sirius murmured, grinning stupidly. “Who’s daddy’s precious girl?”

Of course that was the crucial moment when Harry emerged with a smug look and another small bag of shopping on his arm.

He slid his hand through the crook of Sirius’ elbow and grinned. “Told you. Parents.”

“This is the most stupid thing you’ve ever done!” Hermione yells after Harry. Then she blinks. They’re no longer at Grimmauld Place, and sitting huddled together on a familiar four-poster bed with red drapings are four teenaged boys, staring avidly at them. Well, this is just brilliant, she thinks. “And you didn’t even get the year right!”

—

Or: the one in which Harry is done with the war and thinks it’s time he got something he wanted for a change. He misses his godfather, goddammit.