Sirius came out into the backyard at the Potter cottage while James and Harry were still testing out Harry's brand new Nimbus 2000 broomstick in the backyard. He'd let himself in through the floo network and now came parading out into the backyard, wearing a t-shirt emlazoned with his record shop's logo. He grinned up at the Potters, high up in the air, and he shouted, "Darling godson of mine, come down here and show Uncle Padfoot your new wand! I've been waiting all day!"

Harry grinned, threw the quaffle back to his father, and spiraled down to land on the grass at a jog, hurrying to Sirius's side. "Here it is! Here it is!" he drew the wand out of an old leather scabbard that hung from his trouser's belt loop. Sirius's eyes widened at the sight of the leather pouch and he glanced up at James, who was still flying above them in lazy loops, throwing the quaffle in the air and catching his own throw. Harry thrust the wand into Sirius's hands. "It's holly - eleven inches! Phoenix feather core."

"Incredible," Sirius said, taking it up in his palms and looking it over, "Beautiful. A grand wand has chosen a grand wizard!" He smiled and handed the wand back to Harry. "Tell me all about Diagon Alley. Was your father well behaved or did you have to knock him about a bit for being a pain in the arse? He better have spoilt you real good and rotten or I'll have it out with him."

"We had loads of fun. We got loads and loads of stuff - everything on my whole list from Aunt Minnie and more! We went and saw Uncle Jasper and he had a new sort of ice cream and - oh! Is Uncle Moony with you?"

"He'll be along soon," Sirius promised, "Why?"

"I got him a present."

"On your birthday? Prongslet, me thinks you may not understand how birthdays work, little fella."

Harry laughed. "Well I got him some new paint brushes."

"Ah he could use some of those, he was saying so just last night."

"Yeah?"

"Sure was."

"Brilliant." Harry beamed.

"You're too good for your own good, Prongslet," Sirius said, ruffling up Harry's hair and pulling him into a hug. "Bloody hell, what're we going to do without you 'round here once you're off to Hoggy-warty Hogwarts? Hmm?"

Harry hesitated, then glanced up at James, who was diving to catch the quaffle he'd just missed his own pass on. Harry turned to look at Sirius, his demeanor suddenly quite solemn. "I wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

"Oh?" Sirius raised his eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm worried about --"

Suddenly the backdoor of the house opened up and Remus came loping out into the backyard. His gait was terrible, his knees and hips a wreck, and he was leaning against a cane today - it was only a couple days past the full moon and these days the effects of his lycathropy lasted a couple days after the moon, lingering in his joints most especially. Sirius spotted the cane and he frowned and turned toward Remus.

"My handsom husband has arrived!" Sirius sang out, "Awwwooooo! Look at you!"

Remus rolled his eyes, grimmacing slightly as Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus's torso. Discreetly, Sirius pulled Remus's arm 'round his shoulders so Remus could lean some of his weight on him and Remus smiled, grateful for the help. Sirius ran his fingers up Remus's spine, pausing at the base of his neck where a knot in the muscle could do with a quick massage and he worked his fingers in quickly. Remus groaned and closed his eyes as the tension in his neck broke and relief washed down his spine. "Thank you," he said quietly. Then, louder, to Harry, he said, "Cheers to the Birthday Boy!"

"Hi Uncle Moony!" Harry said and he gingerly hugged Remus, who patted him on the back.

James landed, then, jogging to a halt a few steps away, the quaffle landing with a thump on the grass behind him. "About damn time you lot got here," he declared, looking at his watch.

"Sorry," Remus apologized, "I was caught up at the school. It seems the model I've scheduled for the final exam has backed out - less than a bloody week notice, too, and now I've got to figure out what the hell to do. Right in the midst of being absolutely buried under their written papers. And you'd think being a drawing class they'd be keen to write short papers, but they're all fairly long and tedious..."

James listened a lot better than Sirius or Harry as Remus launched into a whole story about the papers and the unexpected cancellation of the model he'd booked. James took over with letting Remus lean on him as he walked toward the house and Sirius hung back a moment with Harry.

"What were you saying before, Harry?" Sirius asked quietly.

Harry looked up at Sirius, "Can I come by the record store tomorrow maybe and we can talk then?"

"You know you're always welcome 'round the shop," Sirius said, grinning. "You can help me tag this huge shipment of records I just took in this afternoon."

Harry liked helping out at Sirius's shop so this was a double-win for him. "Alright."

Sirius hugged his shoulders and they followed after Remus and James to the house. As they stepped into the kitchen, the lights snapped on and there was an absolute explosion.

"SURPRISE!" Sirius shouted with the rest of the guests that were crowded about inside the cottage. Sirius grinned at Harry's shocked expression as confetti, balloon, and a plethora of smiling faces framed by pointy party hats filled his vision. "You didn't think you'd get off without a party, did you?" he let loose a loud, barking laugh. "No Harry - parties are what we Marauders do best!"

And it was true, Harry thought as he snuggled into bed later that night, his broomstick sitting safely in the old wooden rocking chair in the corner. He bet there was never a boy who had such a wonderful eleventh birthday as he, Harry, had just done. He fell asleep smiling, knowing his good day would turn into good dreams and that those good dreams had a shot at coming true... one day.

It was the next day - a Thursday - and Sirius Black was changing the record on the player at Out Run Groove, his record shop in East London. The vinyl crackled and popped in the overhead speakers and then the familiar notes of Sirius's favorite Queen record filled the shop like oxygen in the lungs and he grinned and sighed with relief as he turned back to the project of slipping records into protective plastic sleeves and applying tiny hot pink price stickers tp the top right corner of each one.

There was a sound in the back room, and Sirius knew without looking it was Harry, having come through the floo in his office. He smiled, pulled up the second stool to the counter beside himself, and slid the price tagging gun over the counter to set before the stool, continuing on with the plastic sleeves himself.

Harry came out of the back room, hair a mess as always, fixing his glasses. One of his trainers was untied and his shirt a bit frumpled. "Hey Uncle Padfoot," Harry said, climbing onto the stool and picking up the price tagger without any direction from his godfather. They'd done this a thousand times together, it was as natural as clockwork.

"Hullo Prongslet," Sirius said. "How's eleven treating ya?"

"So far so good," Harry said. "Dad says hi."

"Of course he does."

"New records, huh?"

"Yup."

"Anything good?"

"Limited Edition of Out of Time," Sirius said, waving the R.E.M. record he was putting into a plastic sleeve. "Got two, only one's going on the shelf."

"Cool. Can I hear it later?"

"Sure."

Harry smiled

Sirius hummed along with the song on the overhead and slid the next records into their sleeves, handing them over to Harry, who clicked the price point into place on the sticker gun and clicked the stickers onto their rightful places on each vinyl Sirius passed to him. They worked in comfortable silence for some time, Harry kicking his legs as they hung from the stool, popping a piece of Drooble's Best between his teeth as he worked. Sirius's head bobbed with the melody.

"Uncle Padfoot?"

Sirius looked up, "Yes?"

"You and Uncle Moony will visit Dad a lot when I'm gone to Hogwarts, right?" Harry asked.

"Of course we will," Sirius said. "I close the shop every Tuesday and Bank Holiday to spend it with your Dad, you know that." 

"Yeah, I know," Harry answered, "And it's great you guys have like a day to hang out and all but - what about the other days?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you'll come over more than you do now, right?" Harry pressed, "So he's not all by himself?"

Sirius lowered the vinyl he was working on wrapping and stared at Harry, who looked up and flushed, then looked back down, fiddling with the pricing gun. "Harry?"

"It's just that I know he's worried about it," Harry said quickly, "He said so to Uncle Jasper yesterday. About being worried what to do when I'm not around. I'm the only person that he sees most days..."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"I'm worried he'll be lonely," Harry finished.

Sirius drew a deep breath. He reached over and took the price gun and put it down, then grabbed Harry's hands. "Listen, Harry, I know you're worried about your Dad. But you're the kid, Prongslet, and you oughtn't be worrying about us grown ups. That's our job. We love you a whole lot and none of us are gonna leave the others hangin', alright? We're gonna take care of each other - and we're gonna take care of you, too. It isn't going to be easy getting used to you being out of the house, but bloody hell we like havin' you around." Sirius smiled warmly. 

Harry nodded. He stared at his feet, then --

"Sirius?"

"Whoa, you're first-naming me?" Sirius chided.

Harry stared into his eyes. "Has Dad ever... dated... anyone else besides Mum?"

Sirius's mouth moved like a fish for a second, his brain screaming mayday! mayday! as his heart thumped wildly.

"Uncle Padfoot?"

"Yes," Sirius said. "Yes but - not since your Mum. Everyone else he saw was before Lily."

Harry looked down.

Sirius shifted his weight uncomfortably, then swore internally, and said, "Your Dad loved your Mum from the second he lay eyes on her..."

"On board the Hogwarts Express," Harry said, nodding. He'd heard the story a thousand times from James. Harry could recite it as clearly as if he'd been there himself to witness it. Then, "But what about the others, Uncle Padfoot?"

"What about them?" Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged, "Were they close?"

"No," Sirius said quickly. "Your Dad could've had any girl he wanted in the halls of Hogwarts, Harry," he added. "But he chose to donate his time and talents to the joyful pursuit of laughter and pranking with me and the lads instead. For the most part. He dated some... in sixth year... but he wasn't ever serious though." There was a pause. "That was my job. Being Sirius, I mean."

Harry rolled his eyes as his godfather let out a barking laugh.

"It's been ten years since Mum died, Uncle Padfoot," Harry pointed out, "Don't you think that's a really long time and that he ought to be at least thinking about possibly meeting someone?"

Sirius's lower lip twisted in thought.

"I mean, he - he deserves to have somebody, too, right, like you and Uncle Moony have each other?" Harry pressed, "So he's not all alone when I go off to school."

Sirius sighed and turned to the counter, leaning against it with both hands. He stared out over the shop, the dusty shelves of records and record player equipment, musical memorabilia, even a small selection of instruments...

The walls were covered with pictures of famous people who'd come to visit the Out Run Groove and Sirius's eyes fell on a frame holding two photos of himself sandwiched between Remus Lupin and Brian May in 1986. The photos were identical, or appeared to be anyway - the truth was they'd been focused slightly differently when taken so that if one stood before them and held their eyes just right, the photos were 3D - a trick of the special camera Dr. May had. "It's like magic," he had said, explaining the camera and the trick of the eye, as he promised to send the pictures to Sirius once he'd gotten them developed. Sirius hadn't expected the photos to ever actually come, but they came in an envelope postmarked as normal as any other muggle letter, right there to the shop.

"I can't believe Brian May wrote me a letter," Sirius said. "Look, right there, Moony, Brian May spent eighteen pence on me." 

Remus had looked up from a book. "Eighteen pence? For one letter? Bleeding hell. Is that what postage is up to in the muggle world these days? And we thought the owls were getting pushy!"

Sirius had kept the envelope - it was at the flat in East London where he and Remus lived over a pub, on the mantel next to the vase that held the rose he'd been given from Freddie Mercury way back in 1979. He'd never thought anything would ever gain status to be important enough to be set next to the vase that held that rose. If you'd asked him in 1979, he would have laughed and called you blasphemous for even suggesting such a thing. But by 1986, when the encounter with Brian May had occurred just a week after the shop first opened, Sirius was singing a different tune. Was the envelope with the 18p of postage stuck on more important than that glorious rose, or the memory that went along with it? No, by no means, Sirius thought. However, that didn't mean that it wasn't a close second - and his love for that rose didn't mean he couldn't love that envelope, too. His love for Freddie didn't mean that he didn't have a raging crush on Brian May, too.

He stood upright and looked at Harry.

Harry stared at Sirius.

"Are you suggesting that we set up your father?" Sirius asked.

Harry's mouth curved into a smile, "D'you know anyone who might work for him?"

Sirius took a deep breath.

Lily, forgive me. And help me.

"I just might," Sirius answered.

Harry grinned. "Brilliant!" he said and he held up his hand to perform the secret handshake he and Sirius had worked out - a knock of the knuckles, slap-clap-slap, a twiddle of the thumb, another slap-clap, and the hands dragged across one another, fingers glamoring against the other's palm as they drew back, then fists stacking and bumping and ending in an exploding jazz hand motion.

Harry turned back to the tagging process and Sirius did, too, feeling a combination of anxious and excited. Overhead, the Queen record played on and Sirius couldn't help but laugh as the next song started.

Can anybody.... find me.... somebody... tooooooo.... love?

Each morning I get up and I die a little... can barely stand on my feet (take a look at yourself!) take a look in the mirror and cry (in the mirror and cry), Lord what you're doing to me? (yeah)... I have spent all my years believing in you, but I just can't get no relief, Lord! Somebody (somebody) oooh, somebody (somebody)... Can anybody find me.... somebody to love?