Chapter Text
Sunday, 31 July 1994
Harry awoke to the sound of Moony and Padfoot loudly singing “Happy Birthday,” with a tray of breakfast floating in front of them. It was laden with eggs and bacon and toast with four different spreads (for Moony) and tea and coffee, and they shared it together on Harry’s bed, laughing.
They spent the rest of the morning in the garden, which was quickly becoming one of Harry’s favorite places. Sirius loved spending time outdoors and Remus and Harry indulged him as often as they could. They had a little garden on the side of the cottage, where they grew root vegetables and herbs, and a wild berry patch in the woods that they would walk to and snack on. Today they spent the morning weeding while Sirius and Remus told stories about their own fourteenth birthdays: Padfoot explained how the Marauders managed to get every single member of Gryffindor house into the Three Broomsticks to toast Moony, and Moony recalled how on Padfoot’s birthday most of Slytherin house were unable to use slurs thanks to a word-swapping spell. They laughed together over some of the more ridiculous replacement phrases, wrist deep in soil.
Life with his godparents had been like this. Happy and gentle. They spent their days in the garden, or on brooms, or in the woods. Their evenings were filled with stories. Sometimes they were more of Remus and Sirius’s, but sometimes it was a muggle story. They told Harry about how they used to read aloud to each other when they were kids, and soon they were making their way through muggle classics, trading off the reader between each chapter.
Harry’s favorite nights were the ones where they would listen to music. He remembered the day they unpacked Moony’s record player. It was rather dusty, and little clouds puffed out when Padfoot pulled out a T.Rex record. He gave Moony a questioning look, and when Moony nodded he slipped it on. Nothing else was unpacked that day. The two men sprawled out on the couch, tapping their toes to Electric Warrior. Harry joined them, listening as they hummed along. Next was The Slider by the same band, and Firewhiskey was involved by that point as well. Remus slid out the next one, Abbey Road. He gave a little smile as he flashed the cover at Sirius, who was now lying on the floor.
“Remember this one, Pads?”
“Mooonyyyyy,” he sighed, in the way that Harry had learned meant that he was feeling especially soft and happy. “Of course I remember. First time you were ever nice to me.”
“When has Moony ever been actually mean to you, Padfoot?” Sirius barked out a laugh.
“All the bloody time. Tough shell to crack, that one.” Harry looked over to Remus, who was grimacing.
“There’s still…a lot, that we haven’t told you about.” He put the album on, gently laying the needle. The baseline of “Come Together” filled their little living room. “I was raised in a muggle care home. Things were not easy, if you can imagine. It took a long time to open up to any of our friends, and even then…” he trailed off.
“We were piss poor communicators.” Sirius finished.
“Still are.”
“Piss off, Remu,” Sirius said, sitting up and launching into the chorus and strumming an invisible guitar. Moony rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname as he sank back onto the rug.
After Abbey Road, when Remus and Sirius were well and truly drunk, came The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. Remus and Sirius danced around the living room, singing at the top of their lungs. They swayed together to “Moonage Daydream,” singing to each other and giggling. Then came “Starman.”
“Prongs’s favorite!” Sirius announced. He and Remus pulled Harry onto the coffee table with them, and Harry listened as his godparents screamed the chorus to the sky, Sirius even breaking out into a harmony.
There’s a Starman waiting in the sky,
He’d like to come and meet us,
But he thinks he’d blow our minds.
Harry’s reminiscing was cut off when the Weasleys arrived through the little fireplace, ready for the birthday party. The whole family came, with even Bill and Charlie home for a visit. Next came the rest of the Gryffindor boys, Dean and Seamus and Neville, and it was quickly decided that a quidditch match should be organized. Then McGonagall appeared, much to Fred and George’s delight. It was still a little odd for Harry to have her in his home, but as their Secret Keeper, she was a regular visitor.
Harry recalled the first visit she had made to the little cottage, only a week after they had moved in. In a shocking turn of events, he watched as McGonagall had cried, actually cried, into the mug of tea Moony had rested in front of her.
“It is the greatest mistake of my life, leaving you with those people, Harry.” Harry didn’t know if he was more shocked by the tears rolling down her face or the use of his first name. When she then proceeded to ask for his forgiveness, he gave it quickly and eagerly, desperate for his teacher to no longer be crying at his family’s little dining table and, though he refused to admit it to himself, more than a little touched. Her later visits were less emotional and mostly chronicled the ongoing review of Dumbledore’s leadership of Hogwarts.
Beyond regular visits from his Transfiguration professor, Harry had already spent more time with his friends than he ever had in a summer. The Gryffindor boys had met up in London and gone to the cinema, which delighted Neville and Ron especially as they had never been. When they made it back to Diagon Alley for ice cream, they happened to run into Hermione, Lavender, and the Patil twins at Fortesque’s, and by the time Harry went home his stomach hurt from ice cream and laughter. He had, of course, visited the Burrow, both for full moons and just because he could.
As Fred and George began picking teams (Harry refused to be captain and everyone wanted to separate the twins), Harry’s mind wandered off to one of those Burrow visits, the one he couldn’t stop thinking about. It was the day after the July full moon. Moony and Padfoot had come to pick Harry up, but they were both still tired and had accepted the offer of dinner from Mrs. Weasley. They were sitting around the dinner table, and Mrs. Weasley asked how Hermione was doing.
“She invited us to visit her in August,” Ron replied. “Harry, you still need to ask your parents if you can come.”
“Oh right,” Harry said, turning to face Moony and Padfoot, expectantly. “Can I go?”
The room was utterly silent after that. Harry could not begin to comprehend the looks on Moony and Padfoot’s faces. Then he heard Ron gasp, and turned to see every Weasley frozen with matching, shocked expressions. Ron’s face grew bright red.
“Godparents, I mean,” Ron sputtered. And then Harry realized what Ron had said the first time. Harry spent a lot time picking apart his feelings from that moment. There were a lot of them, ranging from love to grief to happiness to guilt. At the time, he’d nodded and managed to get out some words agreeing with Ron, but secretly, deep down, he knew that Ron hadn’t meant godparents at all. And neither had Harry.
Moony and Padfoot hadn’t said anything to Harry about it. It was unusual, as they were typically adamant about “talking about our feelings.” This incident, though, they let slide, and the family had fallen back into their usual rhythm. Lazy mornings. Big breakfasts. Gardening. Flying. Forest walks. Stories. Standing on the coffee table singing “Starman” to the sky.
Harry shook himself back to the present. Teams were picked, and they were about to launch into the air. All of a sudden, Sirius came strolling in the backyard, and with a wave of his wand revealed a brand new set of Quidditch hoops. Soon he was refereeing the game (with an intense bias towards Harry’s team). They landed a while later to Hermione and her parents having just arrived, and Mrs. Weasley helping Remus in the kitchen.
They set up a long table in the yard with Harry at the very center. Presents were opened, many of which were from Moony and Padfoot (all the tags read “To our godson” and Harry saved every one of them), but the best present was the Quidditch World Cup ticket from the Weasleys. After that, they enjoyed one of the best meals Harry could ever remember having. Looking back, years later, he didn’t remember a single bite of food, but instead the love and warmth that surrounded him at every angle, the laughter and smiles of his closest friends. Sirius and Remus led the second birthday song of the day, which involved a lot of screaming from Ron, Fred, and George. Mrs. Weasley brought out a large chocolate cake, and as they set it on the table Fred and George let loose some fireworks that exploded over the forest, filling the dusky evening sky with twinkling lights.
As the sun set, the gathering began to dissipate. The Gryffindor boys left, as well as Hermione’s parents, Bill and Charlie, and McGonagall. The now smaller gathering settled into the tiny living room, and an odd energy filled the air. Everyone was looking at Harry like they had at Christmas, like they were all expecting something.
“There is one more present from us,” Moony said, blushing bright red. He summoned an envelope, which he rested on Harry’s legs. Mrs. Weasley was snapping pictures furiously. Moony and Padfoot were sat beside Harry on the couch. Harry felt the anxiety rolling off of them, could see it in the way they clutched each other’s hands.
Harry pulled the paper from the envelope. It was some kind of formal document, already partially filled out. He read the title and dropped the paper in his shock.
APPLICATION FOR ADOPTION
Harry scrambled to retrieve the paper, looking back up at the two men who were about ready to fall apart.
“We’re not Lily and James,” Moony said, his voice shaking. “And we never will be. We could never replace them and we would never attempt to. But we love you so much, Harry. And not just as our best friend’s son, but…” and he hesitated here, eyes shining. “As our own.” Sirius spoke next.
“We don’t want to put any pressure on your to say yes, but the offer is there if you want-” but here he was cut off by Harry flinging himself into them.
Harry had thought a lot about his and Ron’s slip up. He had felt guilty most of all, felt that he shouldn’t let anyone replace his birth parents. But whenever he forgot the god prefix in his own mind, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy. And, for all intents and purposes, Moony and Padfoot were his parents. They were his caretakers, his emotional support, his teachers and advice givers. They were the first people he ran to for advice, or comfort, and they loved him so unconditionally it hurt. And after all, Harry thought, why couldn’t he have four parents?
And so, when Sirius and Remus presented the adoption papers to Harry on his fourteenth birthday, Harry had no hesitation in saying yes.
Champagne was brought out, and Harry was even allowed a sip, which he was thoroughly disgusted by. Ron, the first chance he got, clutched Harry’s shoulders and yelled, “LIVING PARENTS!” and Hermione was so tearful over the whole situation that she didn’t even roll her eyes about it. Almost everyone was tearful, really. Harry even caught Fred and George surreptitiously wiping their eyes. Mrs. Weasley was taking copious pictures, sobbing all the while. At some point, the champagne was switched out for Firewhiskey. “Happy Birthday” was sung yet again, somehow even less in tune than before. The adults grew loud and giggly with drink, and Harry was giddy with joy. Then Sirius put on The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.
By this point, the three of them had listened to the album so frequently that Harry now knew all the words. Hermione and Ginny giggled as they danced around the living room. As the album moved into “Moonage Daydream” the whole party was dancing and laughing. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were swaying out of time in the corner. Fred and George were swinging Ginny between them. Harry and Hermione had even convinced Ron to dance with them, mostly because Harry had already been lovingly crowned “the second worst dancer in the history of forever” by Sirius, who awarded first place, posthumously, to James.
Then “Starman” came on, and Harry, Sirius, and Remus leapt onto the coffee table as usual. Mrs. Weasley got a picture of the little family, their arms around each other and their faces singing to the sky.
There’s a Starman waiting in the sky,
He’s told us not to blow it,
‘Cause he knows it’s all worthwhile.
After the rest of the gathering had left, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed up on Harry’s bed, talking and laughing until the early hours of the morning. When Remus and Sirius checked on them the next day, they found the trio curled up together in a little pile, smiles on their sleeping faces.
Ron had fallen asleep first, his head resting on Harry’s stomach. He and Hermione had giggled as Ron snored, but soon Hermione was dozing as well, her face buried in Harry’s shoulder. Harry stayed up a little while longer, thinking of adoption papers and parents and singing “Starman” on coffee tables.
And, as he drifted into sleep, Harry knew that somewhere, out amongst the stars, James and Lily Potter were looking down on them and smiling.