Marauders Time Travel : you have so many years of screw ups ahead

bugger everything else

The next week finds the Marauders in full reconnaissance mode. Or, at least, it should have. Their days actually alternate between doing covert research and bemoaning the many missed opportunities that wait outside Hogwarts castle in 1996. Nevertheless, the boys horde each scrap of information they learn about the future like goblins.

Unfortunately, a determinedly unhelpful golden trio and the ever-present threat of discovery by the Hogwarts staff leaves them thoroughly unsuccessful. They haven't learned much beyond what Malfoy told them. They were nowhere near discovering their roles in the war to come.

The boys feel trapped and useless and bored.

By the fourth day, Harry has become so frustrated with their moping that he even helps them prank Snivellus. It was a nasty surprise to learn that the great slug had become a professor. It was only fair to give him in an even nastier one, right?

The charmed silverware wasn't nearly up to their standards, but hearing the git confess his most embarrassing moments in the Great Hall certainly made Harry laugh. And that makes all the difference, doesn't it? This future, no matter how vague and boring and frightening, had Harry.

My godson, Sirius thinks, with just as much excitement as when Harry had first told him.

Harry hasn't given Sirius much more details than that, but he cannot find it in himself to be annoyed with the boy's silence. This was saying quite a bit, given that Sirius could get annoyed with his tea for being too cold or literally any other minor inconvenience.

Apparently, the same can be said of his godson, who was currently moping about his subpar performance in Quidditch practice earlier that day. The boy has been snippy with Prongs ever since.

Harry claims that James' idea of a 'pep talk' had psyched him out. To be fair, it included a five-minute rant on the history of Potters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Secretly, Sirius thinks that the boy is embarrassed about floundering in front of his father.

Bit of an overreaction. Prongs must've seen him fudge up a few moves before, right?

Sirius waves that thought away to the place in his mind usually reserved for Moony's strange flirting tactics, conversations with his brother and other ineffable things. It was too dismal for a moment like this, anyway.

He is sprawled quite lazily across the grass near the black lake, head resting on his godson, his godson! His best mate was skipping rocks a few feet over and Moony had buggered off for a kip or something.

Sirius takes one last perusal of the field to make sure Prong's disillusionment charm held. He is about to close his eyes for a kip of his own when he notices Harry burning a hole into his would-be father's back.

"Can I give you some advice, Prongslet?"

Harry rolls his eyes. All the hostility in his face melts away as he looks down at his godfather, even if his eyes are narrowed. It makes Sirius feel very warm. The boy says, "No offense, Padfoot, but I once asked you to pick out some new clothes for me and half of it was leather. The other half were feathers."

"It's not my fault you don't understand fashion."

"And you do?"

Sirius does not, but who needs to when they have a face like his and a personality to match? He sniffs, "Forget about the past, or I guess the future, whatever. I actually know what I'm talking about this time."

"Oh, really. What's that then?"

"James Potter," Sirius shrugs as if it should be obvious. "I'm a bit of an expert in the field."

"You should broaden your interests."

"I don't know what's been happening between you and your old man," he pauses, searching his godson's face for any sign that he was willing to share more than the absolute nothing he has divulged on the matter so far. Sirius guesses it has something to do with Harry's relationship with Malfoy. He can't imagine future James has taken it better than his own. "But you don't have to try so hard to impress him, you know?"

"Excuse me?!" Harry squawks.

Sirius chuckles, "Prongs is by default soft on people he loves and a complete prat to everyone else. Really, he's a lot like your Draco."

Just yesterday, Sirius witnessed the blond steal a chair from an unsuspecting Ravenclaw, so that his pug-nosed girl friend could prop her feet up while they studied in the library.

"You've completely lost me."

Sirius wraps an arm around his shoulders, and continues as if Harry hasn't spoken, "But once he loves you – are you listening, this is good bit – it doesn't matter what you do, or with who. You're his for good. Bugger everything else."

Harry doesn't respond right away to the perplexing comments. His eyes don't look confused, just thoughtful. After a moment he says, "Can I give you some advice, Padfoot?"

"Shoot."

"When Remus says he's 'down for a nap', that really means he's going to stuff his gob with chocolate frogs. Most likely, it's because you've said something unintentionally insensitive."

Sirius' answering groan sounds particularly painful against Harry's laughter.

On Sirius' way to apologize to his boyfriend, he runs into Harry's. Malfoy is lurking by the portrait of the fat lady.

When the Slytherin is done squealing from being tackled and Sirius is done laughing, the time traveler says, "O geez, I really should stop teasing you! We've already mucked things up between you and the sprog after all."

Malfoy's grey eyes, so much like Sirius' own, scrutinize him. He's most likely weighing the days he's spent not talking to his not-so-secret-not-boyfriend against Sirius' half-arsed apology.

"Don't fuss about that. Harry and I were fighting before you lot dropped in."

"Oh," Sirius frowns. He's surprised that he's genuinely sorry to hear that. "For how long?"

"About six years," Malfoy hums.

Sirius laughs, "That makes sense. I can't imagine a mini James would get a long easily with a Slytherin. I'm surprised his wife didn't curb any of that prejudice." He's wheedling, obviously. Maybe Draco will slip some information on who that wife might be. He has a guess of course, but...

"No, no, they were fine," Malfoy says, too quickly. "It was me. I was a..."

"Snobby prat," Sirius supplies.

Draco nods. His smile is oddly sweet for someone who had just been insulted. "You've told me that before, you know? And right after you said-"

"I used to be one too." Sirius shrugs at Malfoy's raised eyebrows. Apparently, his guess had been spot on. "It's only the truth."

Malfoy's face crumbles and he starts blubbering, "I was waiting for you. By the portrait, I mean. But, really, I've been waiting much longer than that You helped me, you know? I didn't have anywhere to go, or anyone to trust, but I had you." The blond shoves a letter into his hands and holds tight. Draco's eyes are rimmed red. Sirius opens his mouth, eyes impossibly wide, but the boy cuts him off, "Don't. Please, don't ask. Just do your cousin a favor and keep this sealed until you get back to your time. Promise me, Sirius Black. This could quite literally muck up time and space, but sod it, right? We're all screwed anyway."

Fat tears are rolling down Draco's cheeks, but Sirius can't see them with his cousin's face pressed into his robes.