SHE'S ALL THAT ➭ SIRIUS BLACK ❨2❩ ✔︎

ACT FOUR, SCENE TWELVE

CORNWALL

On the last day of summer, while the weather was still pleasant and warm, Sage took Harry to the beach.

It was their last day together before she had to send him off to Petunia's for a fortnight, and just like every other time Harry went to that wretched woman's house, Sage tried her best to make their last few hours together memorable, fun, and exciting.

So, seeing as the weather was nice, she decided to take him to the beach.

Cornwall had become a wizarding village during the war, mostly populated by pureblooded wizards and witches who wanted to get away from the hubub of wizarding London. Sage picked this specific beach for two reasons: one being that it was rarely crowded, at least according to Molly Prewett-Weasley, who'd recommended it; and the second being that it was a wizarding village, so she could use magic around the townsfolk without causing a ruckus.

She laughed as Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her into the water, not caring that the cuffs of her jeans became soaked from the waves.

She was so distracted by Harry's infectious joy that she didn't notice several people approaching her.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, miss?"

Sage whipped around, wand in one hand and Harry's wrist in the other, and prepared to defend herself.

Three elderly witches looked shocked, and they all held their hands up defensively.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" The tallest one blurted. "I just—we noticed the little boy's scar. Is that Mister Potter? The child that killed the Dark Lord?"

Sage's lips parted, stunned. She'd known that Harry's feat was well known in the wizarding world, but she hadn't known that he'd be so easily recognizable in public. She pulled Harry closer to her and scooped him up; his bare, wet feet dampened the fabric of her shirt, but she paid no mind.

She hefted him up higher on her hip. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather appreciate it if you left us alone." She said, feigned politeness seeping from every word.

The shortest of the older witches nodded understandingly. "Alright, miss. We just wanted to tell the boy thank you. For saving us all."

Sage watched them walk away with furrowed eyebrows and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead. He might be a savior to the wizarding world, but to her, he was the little boy whose diapers she changed and whose tantrums it was her job to quell.

She would never praise him for being the Jesus of the wizarding world. Not when his prophecized saving of the world cost her her two best friends.

She loved him dearly, more than almost anyone else in the world. And it wasn't that she resented him for the deaths of his parents, but he wasn't her savior.

this just in: harry ≠ jesus!