Padfoot and his Pup

17. | Meeting the Godfather- Part III

They reappeared inside the biggest living room Harry had ever seen. One look at the place and you could easily say that the owner was loaded.

"Why don't you go and sit down over there? I'll see what I can find in the kitchen."

Harry complied and sunk into the sofa, relishing its softness. He kicked off his shoes and tucked his feet up. It was soft enough to reduce the discomfort of his injuries.

Whilst Harry settled down, Sirius searched the kitchen cupboards to see if there was any food. His house elf had told him that she'd restocked the kitchen and he wasn't disappointed.

Dinner would be taken care of.

With a swish of his wand, he set the water boiling.

He went back outside to find that Harry had made himself comfortable on the sofa.

He knew that Harry wasn't looking forward to the conversation they would have to have and neither was he. But it was unavoidable.

"Want to come inside the kitchen? I'm just making dinner."

Harry got off the sofa and followed Sirius to the kitchen. He hadn't said a word since they'd got here and it worried him.

Harry leaned against the counter and watched the man chop the vegetables in quick, precise movements. He didn't know that Sirius knew how to cook.

"I didn't know you cooked."

Sirius looked up and grinned. "My mother claimed it was unbecoming for an heir to resort to such household jobs. So I learned how to cook just to annoy her."

"Oh. Do you um... do you want me to help?" Harry felt the need to make himself useful. He was always the one who did the serving.

"Well, if you can take out the cutlery from that cabinet, that'd be great."

Glad to have something to do, Harry took out two bowls, plates, forks and spoons and set it on the table.

The aroma made his mouth water. It was amazing how magic could speed things up. Tomato soup and chicken ravioli, his favourite combination. Sirius remembered.

His stomach rumbled loud enough for him to be embarrassed.

Once Sirius was done cooking, he brought the bowls to the table. He cast a cushioning charm on Harry's chair, recalling how the boy had flinched.

He served the soup and pasta for the two of them and gestured for Harry to dig in.

"This is brilliant," Harry commented, clearly in love with the food.

"Thanks, pup." They ate in silence. Harry was hungrier than he'd imagined.

Sirius deliberately avoided the topic of Harry's injuries as he didn't want the boy to lose his appetite. The Dursleys probably never fed him enough.

He intended to change that.

Once the plates had been cleared away, Sirius knew that he couldn't put it off any further.

"I need to take a look at your injuries, Harry," he began carefully, waiting for the his godson's reaction.

Harry's fingers curled into the sofa and he tensed up. "I'm fine, Sirius." His voice was small and his eyes were glued to the carpet.