Such well-mannered perversions (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sam_storyteller) wrote,@ 2005-07-07 14:46:00 |
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| Entry tags: | all harry potter, alternate universe, harry potter r, harrycentric, pg13 - r, remus/sirius, stealing harryverse |
Stealing Harry, 26 - 28 of 28
The house on Grimmauld Place was heavily warded, but it could recognise its owner; Sirius and Remus had no difficulty getting inside, and Snape felt barely a tingle as he followed them. He caught up to them on the landing just as they were turning, and suddenly froze. The look of loathing on Sirius Black's face had, he realised, nothing to do with him, but it was still one of the most chilling sights he'd ever seen.
"Where would he take him," Sirius said hoarsely. "They could be anywhere -- how do we find him?"
"I need Frog," Snape said determinedly. Remus opened his mouth, confused. "Show me his bedroom. Right now."
"What are you going to do?" Remus demanded, even as he stepped back to lead the way. "Sirius, tell Moody. Get the Aurors searching, we'll find you at Sandust."
"No, stay here, we'll go together," Snape said, deftly picking through the bedclothes until he found the well-loved toy near the foot of the bed. He picked it up, eyes glittering, and turned to Sirius. "The Aurors can't help now. I can find the boy."
"You -- " Sirius said derisively, then stopped himself. "Can you?" he asked, and Snape heard every ounce of pride that it cost him. Sacrificed for Harry.
Because that was what one did for Harry.
"Be silent. Both of you," Snape said, and clutched the toy tightly, aware of how ridiculous he looked. Children didn't have the barriers that adults did, but finding Harry in the mass of humanity that populated England -- if he was still in England --
He'd gone into the boy's mind precisely twice in the months he'd known him; Harry had never noticed. It wasn't invading his privacy, he reasoned, if the child's own welfare was at stake. The first time, he wanted to be sure Harry was safe with his new guardians, that Harry was well-fed and well-loved. He had been satisfied to see the utter contentment of a child who was cared for, adequately, for the first time ever.
The second time he'd gone into Harry's mind had been the petrifying, terrifying day after Harry's birthday -- only a few days ago -- when Harry had been hurt, when he'd seen his own hands shake with anxiety over the child's safety. And then it had been, he told himself, no different from a Healer closing up his wounds; if Harry was upset or troubled, he merely smoothed it over.
The touch of the boy's mind was unmistakable. The thoughts of most children were more or less alike to any witch or wizard without a personal attachment to them, but Harry's always carried with them a distinct touch, associated in Severus Snape's mind with Voldemort and the night he'd been given his Mark, a bitter mental taste, like a bad memory.
"Please," he heard Black's ragged voice. "Tell me what to do."
"Be quiet, damn you!" Snape snarled, spreading mental touches out across vast distances. It would never work; Harry was too far away, too young. He was not that unique, just another child; the only uniqueness he posessed was that the first child Severus had cared for was --
Harry.
Pain and terror flooded his mind, heavily tinged with defiance. He saw through Harry's eyes, blurred; the boy must have lost his glasses. After a brief second he pulled back instinctively, caught halfway between where he was and where Harry was, unable to locate either one.
Tell me where you are, Harry.
Professor Snape?
Don't speak, Harry. Tell me where you are.
An uncertain moment. I don't know.
Are you in a room?
No, it's a graveyard, but I don't know where --
Tang of blood.
Did they hit you, Harry?
There's plants holding me down.
Are you bleeding?
No, a satisfied thrill, but she is.
She?
The bad woman. Bellatrix.
Sirius grabbed his arm. "Bellatrix?"
He must have spoken aloud. "Be quiet or leave -- " Harry, are you there?
I'm scared. Where are you? Where's Sirius? I want Sirius.
Show me where you are, Harry. Do you remember names on the gravestones?
He's here, Peter's here, he's going to hurt Nymphadora --
Harry, stop panicking this instant. Can you see houses? Trees?
I saw a big tree.
Harry, open your eyes.
Sight blended into shadow and Snape fought the urge to pull back again; looking through someone else's eyes was sickening and difficult. He saw Peter Pettigrew, arm outstretched, and heard through Harry the sound of Nymphadora Tonks' erratic, laboured breathing. A surge of power from Peter's direction nearly knocked him off his feet.
Harry, we're coming for you. I have to leave you now but we'll be there soon. If you get free, find a place to hide, stay low to the ground.
Don't go --
I won't be gone long, Harry, I promise.
In a graveyard in Little Hangleton, Harry opened his eyes into Peter's goatlike amber ones.
"Now," Peter said, "We get to play with your baby boy, Bellatrix."
"My godfather's going to kill you," Harry replied calmly. "And then you're going to be sorry."
***
In the house at Grimmauld Place, Severus Snape opened his eyes.
"I know where he is," he said. "It's an old meeting-place for Death Eaters. I can take you there, but you'll have to follow close. It's heavily warded."
Sirius stared at him. "You're the spy," he breathed, as Severus began to walk quickly towards the door. "The one Dumbledore's been protecting for seven years. You're the Death Eater who turned traitor for us -- "
"And if we don't leave now another traitor is going to kill your child," he answered, as they swept down the stairs and towards the front door. He turned once they were outside. Sirius surged forward.
"I left Harry alone with you, alone with a Death Eater -- "
"Do shut up, Black," he snapped, grabbing the other man at the side of his throat, his other hand catching Remus' wrist. "Look where I'm going. Follow me there. Look," he urged, and Sirius drew a quick breath, as the image flooded his mind. "Can you follow?"
Sirius nodded, and let the breath go when he was released. "Go. We'll follow."
Severus looked at Remus, who nodded also, gulping. He closed his eyes and Apparated to the graveyard of Little Hangleton, somewhere he never thought he'd be forced to go again. He wasn't even fully sure he was there before two cracks followed him, and Sirius and Remus stumbled out of the air.
Peter stood in front of them, one hand wrapped almost gently around Harry's throat, pinning the boy back against his body. He looked only mildly surprised.
"I heard you coming," he said pleasantly. "Just like old times, isn't it?"
"Let him go, Peter," Sirius growled. Behind Peter, Nymphadora was struggling with some sort of plantlike restraint. Bellatrix held a dagger in a perfectly flat line across her throat.
"You even brought a substitute for James," Peter said, still smiling a horrible smile. "Doubt Snivellus is James' calibre, but then, so few were."
Severus was staring at Harry, unblinking. Harry stared back calmly, then flicked his eyes to Sirius.
"Move and I'll crush his little lungs," Peter continued. He held out his free hand, and light crackled around it.
"He's done the spell," Remus murmured. "I didn't think you had it in you, Peter."
"I wouldn't, if you hadn't left your books lying around," Peter answered. "Good show, Moony. I blame you, personally."
"Kill him and we'll kill you, so it comes out even in the end," Severus said, because it was obvious Sirius wasn't going to.
"Oh, I doubt it," Peter laughed. "I very much doubt it."
The light crackling around his hand took on form, and seemed to rise in a spiky, flashing column, behind which he and Harry could hardly be seen.
"Can you get through it?" Severus asked, softly.
"Got a plan?" Remus replied. Severus thrust the idea directly into their minds, and felt Remus tense, Sirius' hands clench into fists.
Remus dove for the column of magical light at the same time Sirius raised his arm and shouted "Stupefy!" at Bellatrix, who dodged away from Dora, nicking her with the knife. Severus saw Peter and Remus hit the ground together, rolling, as he dealt with the burst of energy caused by a werewolf passing through a sheer magical barrier. Harry, landing hard on his elbows, began to scrabble towards Sirius, who scooped him up and shielded him behind a gravestone, against a sudden attack by Bellatrix. The stone cracked and began to crumble.
Remus screamed in pain as Peter pressed hands to his bare skin, hands that transmuted the air around them into silver for as long as it took to burn a werewolf, and Severus leapt, rolling and pulling Remus off of him, both of them slamming up against a tomb.
Light crackled around them, and he felt his muscles cry out, his very bones scream. Crucio --
It lasted only a second before it ended, but he dropped to the ground, exhausted. Next to him, Remus was panting for breath; Sirius, nearby, was trying to get his strength back. He'd hit all three of them at once with the Cruciatus. The power it would take --
Why had he stopped?
Then Severus looked up further and saw Peter reel and catch himself on a tombstone, forehead split open and bleeding.
Harry had a piece of the broken gravestone in his hand. Another one, sharp and bloody, lay near Peter's feet. All three men stared as Harry hurled the second, less effectively than the first one -- it glanced off Peter's chest, tearing fabric -- before picking up a third.
Severus shouted a warning just as Bellatrix lunged from behind, and Sirius turned, wand out, casting a killing curse at close range. Bellatrix screamed once, but only once. There was a dull thud as she fell.
Sirius pushed her body off of himself, crawling towards Harry, who was advancing on Peter. Peter pushed himself upright, finally, and stared at the boy. Remus reached down and pulled Severus bodily up by the collar of his shirt. Sirius stood, supporting himself on a gravestone, reaching uselessly for Harry.
Harry hissed.
From every direction, thousands of slim, sinewy bodies converged, crawling over stone, over grass, slithering their way with eerie, silent speed over the shoes of the men watching Peter, only Harry cutting a swath in their way. They twined up Peter's arms, around his legs, his waist; he shouted in Latin and some of them dropped away, but there were far too many --
"They'll kill him," Remus breathed.
"Good riddance," Severus couldn't help reply.
Sirius reached Harry, finally, pulling the stone from his hand and wrapping his arms around the boy's slim body. Harry pointed to a white object on the ground, a little china dog, and Sirius picked it up, closing Harry's fist around it and whispering a word. They vanished with the Portkey, a disant sound compared to Peter's shouted hexes. Snakes fell, writhed, surged up again; Peter was bodily tearing them from him, now.
Severus turned to see Remus supporting a nearly unconscious Nymphadora.
"We have to leave him," he said. "If they win, they win; if he wins, we're all in trouble."
"He's too powerful," Severus answered. "He'll win."
"She's going to die," Remus answered. "And if you stay you'll die too."
He nodded. "I'll follow you to St. Mungo's."
Peter's screams continued to ring in his ears as he Disapparated.
***
Nymphadora was bleeding, but they'd staunched it before it became life-threatening, and she'd managed not to splinch; Bellatrix had apparently kicked her in the head, but the Healers seemed optimistic that she'd be all right. Snape followed Remus' instructions up a floor to fetch her parents, who immediately took control of the situation, found her a private room, had a specialist woken and dragged in to the hospital, and generally made it known that if Nymphadora so much as sneezed wrong when she woke, there would be hell to pay.
Remus was bleeding from open sores on his arms where Peter's silver had burned him; Ted and two Orderlies had to restrain him from leaving the hospital when it was discovered that neither Sirius nor Harry were anywhere to be found. Moody was summoned from the aftermath of the Sandust fire, and stomped around shouting orders until he was thrown out of patient care; then he stomped around in the lobby shouting more orders. Snape, when he heard, had to be sedated while they treated him for aftereffects of the Crucio hex.
Remus, bandaged shoulder to wrist and across part of his collarbone and throat, finally slipped away and ran down to the recieving area, skidding to a stop in front of Moody.
"Any news?" he asked breathlessly. Moody crossed his arms.
"Not hide nor hair, though Bellatrix Lestrange is dead," he said bluntly. Remus sank into one of the chairs, stunned. "Pretty clearly self defence. Had a knife in one hand still. Haven't told Tonks and her brood yet. Don't think she'll take it well."
"What about Peter?"
"Found some bloody footprints. Hell of a tangle of snakes. Probably escaped," Moody grunted. "Next time, finish the job."
"You can have Peter dead or you can have the rest of us alive but you can't have both," Remus answered sharply. Moody snorted. "No word on Sirius or Harry? None at all?"
"Sure they're somewhere safe," Moody said almost placidly. "You'd know where. You know 'em better'n I do."
Remus raised his head, slowly, and met Moody's eyes.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I suppose I do."
***
The library was always empty this late at night, but especially, almost tangibly so in the summer; it was also dark, but that was the reason Remus had learned one of the few wandless tricks he'd learned, years ago. Ignoring the fire that burned along his arms from Peter's attack, he held up his right hand, green light licking across his palm.
He wandered quietly through the stacks, remembering the smell of old books that even Sandust had never quite imitated -- Sandust, which was now ash and ruin. He passed two tables piled high with books, probably the ones they'd sent here; valuable, rare, and magical volumes, irreplaceable knowledge.
Remus walked until he heard soft breathing, quiet sobbing. He cleared his throat, scuffed his feet on the floor as he moved, so that he wouldn't frighten them.
Sirius was sprawled in one of the enormous sofas the library boasted, next to a window that looked out on the moonlit Hogwarts grounds. Harry was curled on his lap, face buried in his shoulder, sobbing softly.
"It's me," Remus said unnecessarily. Sirius didn't move. Harry stilled, when he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"He won't wake up," Harry said indistinctly. Remus knelt, fingers shaking, and checked for a pulse. The steady throb of blood through the vein seemed to take forever to find, but it was there, strong and even, and Remus felt his whole body relax with relief. He spread his hands across Sirius' face, over his shoulders and down his chest, searching for lingering effects of the hex, or any major wounds; when he was satisfied, he sank down next to them, pulling Harry from Sirius' lap to his, cradling the boy.
"He's just tired," he murmured. "He'll be fine. Are you all right?"
Harry nodded against his chest. "Peter killed Snake," he said softly. Remus stroked his hair.
"How do you know?"
"I heard him die. When he bit him, when the others were biting him..."
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry's limbs seized up for a second, and Remus recognised the whole-body sob of a grieving young child. "He tried to kill you and Sirius..."
"We're okay. Shhh, we're all right," Remus soothed. "It's going to be okay."
"Is Professor Snape okay?" Harry asked.
"He's at the hospital with Dora. They'll be fine. Hush now," Remus said.
"He tied us up and the awful woman hurt Dora..."
"Shh. It's okay. We're safe here."
"That's what he said right before -- "
"It's okay, Harry. It's me. Sirius is right here and so'm I. This is Hogwarts, nothing bad can get us here."
Harry fell silent, but Remus could feel him still shaking; when Harry finally began to breathe normally again, to slip into sleep, Remus realised he was shaking, too.
He shifted a little, careful not to wake the boy in his arms, and leaned against Sirius. He ought to be notifying Moody and St. Mungo's; he ought to be there for Andromeda and Ted, and be seeing to it that someone stopped Snape from tormenting the mediwitches. But this was the Hogwarts library, in a stone castle far away from the rest of the world, and he very nearly believed it when he told Harry nothing could hurt them here. If it could just be easy enough, for one night, to believe that there was Somewhere The Bad Guys Can't Get Us...
He listened to Harry and Sirius' even breathing as the moon moved through the sky; not until it was near to setting did he fall asleep, cheek on Sirius' shoulder, Harry still huddled in his arms.
***
"Oh Merlin, Sirius -- "
Sirius, walking stiffly into the ward the morning after the fight in the graveyard, accepted Andromeda's hug gingerly, head still aching, muscles sore and complaining. Ted, not far behind her, clapped him gently on the shoulder, and he winced; they moved on soon enough to Harry, who was in his arms, Andromeda lifting the boy into her own and making much of him, while Ted greeted an extremely exhausted Remus, who plucked shyly at the edge of his bandages. A whole cadre of Healers and Aurors descended, and Sirius clung tightly to Andromeda's arm, unwilling to be separated from Harry. They worked their way through the crowd, to the room Nymphadora and Neville now shared, and Andromeda set Harry on Neville's bed, carefully. Nymphadora waved, and changed her nose to a pig's snout. Harry smiled at her in greeting, and waved back a little.
"Worried about you, old man," Ted said to Sirius, who was suffering a Healer to examine him impatiently. "Snape's been telling us horror stories."
"All true," Sirius said grimly, as a mediwitch scolded Remus for pulling one of his bandages loose. "I thought it was better to keep Harry away from everything until morning."
"Could have told us where you were going," Andromeda said severely. Harry looked like he might burst into tears again. "I'm not mad at you, Harry," she said quickly. Harry scooted back on the bed, away from the Healers, until his back was against the wall.
"You let him alone," Neville said, to the world at large. Harry drew his knees up against his chest, and wrapped his arms around them.
"Snape all right?" Sirius asked Ted gruffly. Ted gestured to the doorway, where the Potions master was lingering, watching the rest of them warily; a patch of his hair near his temple was still missing, and a large plaster was fixed over one cheek. Sirius turned, and after a moment's eye contact walked forward, hand out.
Snape eyed it, before accepting.
"Thanks," Sirius said gruffly. "You found him; you saved him."
"I didn't do it for you," Snape replied.
"I know. I'm grateful anyway." Sirius released his hand. "No permanent damage?"
Snape touched the plaster on his cheek self-consciously, then peeled it away. Three jagged clawlines ran from temple to lip. Andromeda sucked in her breath sharply.
"It's not a scar," he said. "It's his mark. He clawed me -- when we fought he...changed it somehow." He rolled back one sleeve of his tunic, revealing a faint stain on the skin of his left arm. "Like this one."
Remus and Sirius both looked at him, curious and confused.
"He's gone to find Voldemort," Snape continued, and nearly everyone in the room flinched. "But he has his own power now. He has his own followers, or will soon. And he'll have his own mark. I doubt," he added drily, "that theirs will be as conspicuous."
"Can't it be removed?" Andromeda asked softly. He shook his head.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "It only means he's used me. A cheap taunt, and I've suffered cheap taunts before."
"But your face..."
"It doesn't matter," Snape repeated sharply, and Andromeda fell back a little. Sirius sat on Neville's bed, pulling Harry close, and Ted began quietly to herd everyone else out of the room, until it was just them -- Ted and Andromeda, Dora and Neville, Harry, Snape, Sirius and Remus. There was a collective moment when it seemed everyone was simply too tired to do anything more. Sirius gathered Harry into his arms, cradling him, and Andromeda reached out to stroke Neville's head when she saw the envy in his eyes. Remus picked at his bandage again, looking down.
"I kept Dark Arts books in the shop," he said quietly. "It wasn't a secret. They were curiosities, I always checked buyer references before I sold them, and I almost never did, you know. Sell them, I mean. The spell he found...could have been there. Or there could have been other spells, that would help him find what he wanted."
"It's not your fault, old man," Ted said.
"He said himself he wouldn't have had it in him to do what he did, if I hadn't left those books out -- " Remus stopped in a convulsive choke, still picking at the gauze wrapped around his wrist. "Our shop's gone. Harry's hurt and Neville...he never did anything to deserve -- "
"It's just a shop, Remus," Andromeda said.
"It was our home." Remus sighed, and looked up. "It was the only place I ever belonged. I'm so sorry, Sirius."
Sirius, head bowed over Harry, looked up.
"Don't pick at that," he said, and Remus' hands froze in the act of plucking a stray edge of bandage out. "You'll scar."
Remus stared at him.
"Peter laid hands on him, you know," Sirius said, to Andromeda.
"I know, Sirius," she answered.
"He went right through all Peter's magic," Sirius continued.
"I threw rocks," Harry added.
"You were very brave," Sirius said, and while it was clear from his tone he was talking to Harry, his eyes didn't leave Remus' face. Remus ran his fingers up and down his sleeve, scratching through fabric and gauze. Ted moved slowly to sit on his daughter's bed, and a great sense of exhaustion filled the room.
After a moment, Snape cleared his throat.
"If we're done feeling sorry for ourselves and each other," he said, "I'd like to point out that we are still in danger. Harry won't be able to stay in England. Not with Pettigrew so powerful. You're not safe here."
Sirius glanced at him. "We can find him -- "
"And what, let him kill you? I think not," Snape said sharply. Andromeda put a hand on Sirius' arm.
"He's right, Sirius," she said softly. "Until Peter's caught, you're going to have to take Harry away somewhere."
"This is his home," Sirius protested. "He goes to school here, all his friends are here."
"This is bigger than school and friends, you know that," Andromeda answered. "Remus, tell him."
Remus was still scratching his arm, almost absently.
"Remus," Andromeda prompted, and he started, turning to face her.
"Do try to pay attention, Lupin," Snape drawled.
"There's nothing left," Remus said, with a shrug that was made stiff by bandages and pain. "Not here. We'd only endanger the Weasleys. Until Harry's old enough for Hogwarts..."
"Unless," Snape said, very carefully, "He came to Hogwarts now."
"No," Sirius said.
"I know the boy's habits -- "
"No," Sirius repeated.
"Then you had best prepare him for hiding," said a new voice, and they all turned towards the door.
Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway, hands clasped, looking grave and unflappable. "Arrangements are being made," he said, calmly. "I've been informed of events. You were warned, Sirius, when you took Harry from his family -- "
"I won't let you take him," Sirius growled. Remus moved slowly to stand between Dumbledore and the bed where Sirius and Harry sat. Andromeda drew closer to Neville.
"Then you must go with him," Dumbledore said smoothly. "Peter should have no more use for young Longbottom," he continued, and Andromeda sighed with relief, "but if he is to find Lord Voldemort, he will require Harry. We cannot allow that to happen."
"Clearly," Snape said, sarcastically, but also very quietly. Remus fought a sudden, hysterical smile.
"Harry will be taken to Hogwarts, and conveyed from there to a safe place until an Auror escort and a Fidelius charm can be arranged to take him into deep hiding," Dumbledore continued. "This is not a point for debate, Sirius," he added, as Sirius opened his mouth to protest. "You may either accompany him or entrust him to my care."
"We'll come with you," Sirius said. Dumbledore gave him an inquiring look.
"We?" he asked.
Sirius gestured with the hand that wasn't wrapped around Harry's waist. "Remus and I."
"Remus cannot come."
Remus turned to look at Sirius, and then back to Dumbledore. His mouth worked for a moment. "Why not?"
"You're needed for the Fidelius," Dumbledore answered. "You will be the Secret-Keeper."
"But I'm -- "
" -- not necessary," Snape said suddenly, cutting him off. "Surely you see what an easy target he'd be, Headmaster. He hasn't an ounce of guile, and aside from sheer bloody-mindedness, very little grip."
Sirius was glaring daggers at Snape, but the dark-haired man moved forward, until he stood next to Remus. "You'll use me," he said. "My qualifications are far superior. This is not a point for debate either."
Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Snape met the headmaster's eyes unflinchingly, though colour rose in his face and the mark on his cheek seemed to throb faintly. Finally, the silence broke.
"I'm hungry," Neville said petulantly.
Dumbledore turned away from Snape as if he'd just noticed the small boy in the hospital gown, and they heard a slight snort of triumph from the Potions Master.
"Sherbet?" Dumbledore offered.
"What about France? France has some lovely bits."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's France, Remus."
"Your Francophobia is appalling, Sirius. It borders on misfrancophy."
"That's not a real word."
"It could be. Fine, not France. Germany's nice. Good music, good beer."
"Nah. Can't speak German."
"Sirius, if we're confined to places that speak English, that's pretty much the States and Canada, Australia, bits of South Africa, and New Zealand. Not that New Zealand isn't lovely, but there are more sheep than people and I am not going to spend the next two, possibly nine, years where the livestock could outvote the residents."
"I wouldn't mind Canada. I've been there, I like Canada."
"One week every few years for a booksellers' convention doesn't count for much."
"Yeah, but it's big, Moony. Easy to get lost in."
"Yes. Easy to get lost in."
"Point taken. Fine. Australia. Anything wrong with Australia?"
"You mean, other than it not being England?"
"Well. Yeah."
"Nowhere's going to be England, though."
"No."
"How's Harry?"
"He's all right."
"How're you?"
"I'm all right. How're you?"
"Righteously pissed off, Sirius."
***
Sirius gave Remus a small smile, and went back to examining the extensive list of materials required for the Fidelius charm. It'd been eight years since they'd cast it last, and he hadn't been in on all of the work; Peter and Dumbledore had taken over from him in the last stages, so Sirius only knew theory a lot of the time anyway.
They weren't required to gather any of the items, at least; Snape was doing that, in bits and pieces, supplying most of them from his private brewing stash at Hogwarts.
"Me too," Sirius said, in answer to Remus' calm expression of rage. Remus glanced at where Harry was sitting at the boarded-over window, peering through cracks into the summer sunlight below. If they had gone to Sirius' hell when they went to Twelve Grimmauld Place, now they were in his own. He'd cleaned the dust and debris as best he could, when he started coming here again after they took Harry from the Dursleys, but there was no disguising the fact that it was a ripped-up, run-down empty building and no place at all for a child.
He smiled at his own judgementalism. It was the same thing his father had said on being shown the place where his son would spend his transformations. No place at all for a child. But it had heavy locking charms on the doors, and a place to keep food, and beds enough. The logic was sound; they would leave from the Shack for -- well, not-France-or-Germany-or-New-Zealand -- at the same time as decoys left from Hogwarts, and if they were being pursued, the decoys would be the ones followed.
Until then, however -- until Snape had the ingredients for the charm, and the pair of them picked a place to hide -- they spent their days and nights here, and Harry, as any nine-year-old would, was beginning to chafe.
He'd been quiet, at first, and withdrawn to a degree that worried Sirius. Not until Snape had arrived with their belongings from Grimmauld Place, including Frog, did Harry show any glimmer of interest in what was going on around him. He clung tightly to Remus or Sirius, often curling up next to one or the other of them with a book brought from the Hogwarts library by Snape. The rare volumes saved from Sandust by the eripio libris spell were being left in Madam Pince's excellent care, and putting her into fits of bibliophilic glee.
They, for their part, could do nothing but wait, and watch Harry, and try to induce him to go exploring in the old house with them. At night he slept in the largest of the beds, with Padfoot curled up on top of the blankets and Remus on a cot, reassuringly close. After three days, they no longer worried about Harry, except as parents of any child will do; he smiled and laughed more easily, and had stopped kicking Padfoot in his sleep over the nightmares he had.
Remus had nightmares too, but he hadn't anyone in the bed to be kicked, and besides, they weren't his usual sort. They were almost reassuring in their surreality, not at all the frighteningly-real dreams that showed him might-have-beens in other worlds, where Sirius was a convict and Harry perhaps dead, he could never tell.
If Severus Snape had nightmares about having lost Harry and being unable to find him, or about Harry wrapped in roots that grew and thickened until the child was part of a tree he could only pound on in a panic, he never said.
The touch of Sirius' fingers on his arm drew Remus back from his idle contemplation of Harry, and the worries circling in his head.
"We'll have to decide soon," Remus said, and Sirius nodded.
"My vote's for Australia," he replied, still touching Remus, hands moving gently over the lighter bandages Remus had been able to wear this morning; not the full-gauze wrap, just squares taped over the worst of the burns. Some of the lighter ones, more like bad sunburns than a reaction to silver, were visible, shaped like Peter's stubby-fingered hands. Remus hadn't let him see the worst ones, but assured him that in shape, if they did scar, they wouldn't look like handprints, for which Sirius was grateful. The idea of Peter's hands marking Remus for the rest of his life was something Sirius didn't want to think about.
"I don't want to leave Great Britain," Remus said quietly. "But...Sandust is gone, Grimmauld Place is Andromeda's, or soon will be, the lease on my flat was up in a month anyway...the bridges are burnt, Sirius."
"I should never have taken him away," Sirius murmured. "He's still locked up in a cupboard. Or might as well be, in this place."
Remus leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "If you hadn't, he'd be in that cupboard and still be stuck with the Dursleys, too. He wouldn't have people who love him. Even Snape." He swallowed. "And I wouldn't have you, would I?"
Sirius touched Remus' knuckles, scarred where he'd manage to crack Peter across the face.
"I don't know," he said. "We don't know what consequences our decisions have."
"We know some of them," Remus murmured.
"We can't help but wonder," Sirius continued, the tips of his fingers exploring every ridge and valley of Remus' left hand. "But we won't ever know, not really. In another lifetime, I guess I didn't take Harry."
Remus smiled mirthlessly at the cobwebbed rafters. "In another lifetime you couldn't."
"Do you think that's true?" Sirius asked. "Do you think there's a...a me, out there somewhere, who never bought Sandust, or moved to Privet Drive, or any of it?"
Remus didn't answer.
"I think you died," he said finally, in a voice so soft Sirius almost didn't catch it. "I haven't dreamed that. Yet. But I think one day I will. I have these half-memories...I think I lost you in far worse ways than I was afraid of losing you, here and now."
"But I'm not dead," Sirius said, voice deep, not questioning. Certain. His thumb brushed Remus' wrist before he withdrew his hand.
"You are not," Remus agreed, sitting up. "So there's no use dwelling on it, I suppose."
"No. No use dwelling." Sirius drew a breath. "What do you think Peter's likely to do, if he can't find us?"
"You remember Peter. He needs someone to tell him what to do. With Bellatrix dead...he'll pick up someone. Maybe even break someone else out of Azkaban. That's not our worry, Sirius."
"If it involves bloody Pettigrew -- "
"Our concern is keeping Harry safe. Let Dumbledore and Moody worry about Peter. It's what Moody's paid to do, you know," Remus said, drily.
Sirius' gaze drifted to Harry again, only to find Harry watching them talk. He spread his arms, and Harry jumped down from the windowseat, crossing the room to hug his godfather, hanging a bit on his neck. Sirius turned his head a little to kiss Harry's cheek, and Harry grinned and wiped it away.
"Tell us, Harry," Sirius said, turning to face him. "If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?"
Harry considered it thoughtfully. "On a holiday?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Hogwarts," Harry said promptly. Both men smiled.
"That's my lad," Sirius said. Remus raised his head, holding up a hand. There was noise on the stairs, and he picked up his wand, crossing the room to open the door.
"It's Severus," he said, over his shoulder, as the other man rounded the end of the staircase. Harry ran to meet him, and Snape spared enough of his dignity to pat him on the head before walking into the room, nose wrinkled with disgust at its state.
"I've spoken to Dumbledore," he said, without preamble. "You're leaving tonight. Be packed and ready to leave by sundown."
Remus glanced at Sirius. "But we don't know -- "
"A place has been chosen. Aurors will escort you directly there. Your flat is being packed as we speak," he continued.
"My flat -- "
"Alastor Moody is there."
"Couldn't warn us in advance much, could you?" Sirius drawled. Snape barely spared him a look. "Where is it then?"
"I've not been told. Headmaster Dumbledore -- "
"I don't suppose we get any say in it," Remus asked, slightly bitter. Snape turned to him.
"If you hadn't taken the boy from his family -- " he began, but Harry took a sharp breath, and all three men turned to him. Snape hesitated. "Harry, I didn't mean..."
"It's not your fault," Sirius said swiftly, pulling Harry towards him. Harry went reluctantly, but eventually relaxed against Sirius' side, his godfather's arm slung around his shoulders.
"Well," Remus said, into the strained silence that followed, "Looks like it might be New Zealand after all. Best get on with it then. Thank you, Severus. I presume we'll be performing the Fidelius late tonight, after we've arrived?"
"Early tomorrow morning, by that time," Snape replied. "Everything's been prepared. I suggest you sleep this afternoon as well."
"We'll take that under advisement," Remus agreed, taking Snape's arm and guiding him towards the door. "Thank you for bringing that message. Is there anything else you require from us...?"
Sirius felt Harry relax a little further as Snape left the room. "He didn't mean it that way, lad," he said, more out of sympathy for Harry than any desire to defend Severus Snape.
"S'true, isn't it?" Harry asked. "If I wasn't here -- "
"Don't say that, Harry."
"But it is true," Harry insisted. Sirius cocked his head.
"Would you rather have stayed with the Dursleys?" he asked, heart in his throat. Harry shook his head without hesitation, and Sirius could breathe again.
"It's not fair," Harry said, rebelliously, as Remus returned. "I'm just me. I can't help it."
"Nobody blames you," Remus said reassuringly, as he sat at the table again, eyes sweeping the room. Sirius released Harry, gently, and began to pick up odds and ends that had acumulated over the days, piling them haphazardly near the door to be packed. Harry threw himself into Sirius' chair and watched, sulking.
"Don't see why I'm so special anyway," he said, into the back of the chair. "Don't see why stupid Peter Pettigrew cares."
"Harry -- " Remus began, then stopped. What should he say, after all?
"Don't see why I have to leave all my friends and Professor Snape and the bookshop," Harry continued. "He's not so great. I hit him with rocks," he added. It had been a familiar phrase, since the battle; Remus fretted about some sort of memory-impairing brain damage, but Sirius had realised it was simply Harry's way of remembering that he had some kind of power. Dwelling on the ways he'd hurt Peter rather than the ways Peter had hurt him.
"Stupid Peter Pettigrew," Harry finished sulkily, and kicked the table leg. Sirius straightened from where he was collecting a pile of parchment sheets covered in crayon drawings, and began to roll them into a tube.
"It's only two years," he said lamely. "And then you'll get to go to Hogwarts and see everyone again. And you'll make friends in the meantime, wherever we are."
They were silent for a while, the only noise the crinkling of the paper as Sirius rolled and unrolled it, anxiously. Eventually, Remus rose from the table and began to help pack, and Harry moved back to the window once more, contemplating the road leading out of Hogsmeade wistfully.
Shortly after sundown, Severus returned for them, carrying a bound bundle slung over one shoulder -- three broomsticks, plus a paper-wrapped packet of ingredients for the Fidelius, and a small packet of letters for Sirius. While Remus checked their bags and Harry pulled his cloak on, only slightly sullen with the Potions Master still, Sirius picked open the twine and flipped through them.
"Andromeda says goodbye," he said regretfully, reading one of the letters. "She has permission to take Longbottom in."
"Well, that's something," Remus said, taking one of the broomsticks Snape carried. Sirius made a small, surprised noise. "What?"
"You opened a bank account for me?" Sirius asked Snape.
"Moody," Snape said curtly.
"This is more than my Gringott's account had," Sirius said, holding up a formal-looking, cream-coloured letter. "Even accounting for the exchange rate."
"Yes, that was Andromeda Tonks and her annoyingly cheerful husband," Snape replied. "Down payment for the health-hazard you call an ancestral home."
"Samuel Brackenridge?" Sirius asked, reading the name on the bank-statement. "Remus, there's one for you too. John Langley."
"A small precaution, for banking purposes only," Snape said, as Remus made a face at his new alias. "Identification is included. Moody is very thorough."
Sirius scowled at the address of the bank. "Where the hell is Llangynog?"
Snape smiled mirthlessly. "Your new home."
***
Harry flew with Sirius, flanked by two Aurors, with Snape as point and Remus following below and behind, eyes scanning the empty night sky keenly. It was a long journey south from Hogsmeade, and Sirius kept one arm firmly wrapped around Harry's waist, for fear the boy would fall asleep and lose his balance. He grumbled continually about the idiocy of not simply using a portkey, but portkey travel was more easily detectable than broomstick flight, and clearly Dumbledore was taking no chances. They'd seen two separate teams of Aurors leave Hogwarts as they'd walked through the foothills outside of town, dark shapes against moonlit clouds; Sirius wondered if any of them had encountered trouble.
Harry had drawn an excited breath when they kicked off, and he sat a broomstick like a natural -- like his father had, Sirius thought, and he felt the familiar twinge in his chest for James, dead nearly eight years now. Harry didn't notice the slight tightening of Sirius' arm around his waist, too enthralled by the sight of the ground dropping away, the glow of Hogsmeade in the distance back-lighting the view. Sirius had made sure Harry was well-wrapped in a thick cloak and a woolen hat Snape had brought; he and Remus both had gloves and cloaks, but he still felt chilled to his fingertips.
They were leaving his home behind. Not the house on the corner of Privet Drive where for years on end he'd lived each day in the hope of seeing even a glimpse of his godson, or the tiny flat where he'd shared rooms with Remus and learned new ways to love, or even Grimmauld Place, where he'd tried to lay old memories to rest. He was leaving Sandust, the place he'd built as his life, and that hurt most of all, because there wasn't even a Sandust to leave. It frightened him, made him cold from the inside out.
Snape's words from that afternoon rang in his ears. If you hadn't taken the boy from his family --
Harry would still be in his cupboard under the stairs, ignorant of who his father and mother were, of the world he came from. But he wouldn't have the shallow, pink scar on his collarbone; Remus wouldn't be bandaged shoulder to wrist, and Snape wouldn't have three jagged clawmarks across his face. Sandust would still be standing.
Decisions done and sealed. A misstep eight years ago had meant the difference between Sandust and Azkaban prison for Sirius Black, if he believed Remus; who was to say this misstep was anything other than a miracle.
After all, he thought, as Harry turned to ask him, voice nearly snatched by the wind, how much longer it would be -- after all, he had Harry. And Remus. That was what mattered. Their new home would probably be all right. Maybe the High Street would be in need of a bookshop...
They touched down a little later, Sirius following Snape's lead, the Aurors dropping more slowly, scanning the darkened field for any sign of danger. There were two figures awaiting them; Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, the latter carrying a small black case and a plaid Muggle thermos.
"Welcome," Dumbledore said, as Sirius helped Harry to the ground before dismounting the broom himself, and allowing one of the Aurors to take it from him. "I hope your flight was not entirely unpleasant."
"Where are we?" Remus asked, and Sirius noticed he was rubbing his throat, fingers scratching irritably over his skin -- he looked uncomfortable, downright twitchy.
"The feeling will pass," Dumbledore said calmly. "This is Rhos Y Beddau, near the town of Llangynog, county Powys. Housing has been arranged for you nearby, but you must understand something first, and this is the simplest way to show you. Are you cold? Harry, are you well?"
Harry, standing next to Sirius, shifted uncomfortably. "Yessir," he mumbled.
Remus was still fidgeting. McGonagall offered him the thermos, and he sipped judiciously before passing it to Sirius, over Harry's head. Sirius tasted firewhiskey in the hot mulled drink; it didn't seem to do much for the werewolf, but a slight tension in Sirius' chest faded. The Aurors waved it away, and Sirius set the thermos on the ground near his feet. Dumbledore held out his hand, and McGonagall put the black case in it, carefully.
"Rhos Y Beddau was once a stone circle, of fair size and some import," Dumbledore continued, opening the case to reveal several pairs of glasses, neatly folded in velvet pockets. "It has since, however, sunk into the bogs on which it was built. We are standing in what would have been its centre, once."
Sirius didn't bother to ask Dumbledore what his point was, yet; he had learned Dumbledore would get there in his own time, though he was impatient to be out of this windswept bog, with Harry tucked up in a proper warm bed, and if Remus didn't stop fidgeting soon --
Dumbledore was offering him one of the pairs of glasses, delicate wired contraptions with thin, tinted lenses. Sirius held them up to the light of the moon, and scowled.
"Rose-tinted glasses, Headmaster?" Remus asked, a tinge of amusement in his voice as he accepted one also. The Aurors looked on disinterestedly, and Harry flopped to the ground to sit in the grass until the grownups decided to come to their senses.
Sirius raised the glasses to his face and hooked the earpieces over his ears. Dumbledore touched the bridge between lenses, gently, and suddenly the world filled with white. He could tell by the surprised gasps nearby that Remus and Snape had done likewise.
Looking through the glasses, their surroundings glowed bright; no longer a darkened valley in the middle of the Welsh countryside, the small bowl of land they stood in was ringed with columns of white, as though Muggle spotlights had been planted in the ground. The ground itself glowed dimly as well; Remus was outlined in a vibrant amber halo, and a point of green light on Harry's forehead all but obliterated his scar. Dumbledore seemed backlit by a faint blue glow, a little stronger than McGonagall's and Snape's; Sirius looked down at his own hands to find them surrounded by the same nearly-invisible blue light.
"You are seeing the world," Dumbledore said, as Remus raised on hand and turned it, examining the amber glow curiously, "as Peter Pettigrew now sees it."
"We're seeing magic," Sirius deduced, gazing again at the white lights encircling them. Off to his right, an avenue of light led away from the circle, off into the distance. Dumbledore gave him a faint smile.
"Peter will, of course, be able to manipulate it as if it were solid; he cannot avoid seeing it. Likewise, however," he added, "there are some magics which will indeed be solid against him."
Remus pointed to a halo of white light in the distance. "What's that?"
Dumbledore turned to regard it, beyond the avenue leading out of the circle. "Walk with me," he said, and turned towards the avenue. Snape fell into step behind him with McGonagall -- teacher's habit, Sirius guessed.
"Up, lad," Sirius said gently, and Harry stood, moving instinctively to walk between him and Remus, the Aurors following.
"Beyond the avenue is the village of Betwys Beddau," Dumbledore said, loud enough for them to hear, as though he were leading some sort of peculiar field-trip. "You're to live on the outskirts. It's a very pleasant little house, comfortable, with a river running past the back garden. Your belongings have been placed in the garden shed for safekeeping; you may unpack at your leisure."
"Why here?" Remus asked, and Sirius watched in fascination as his halo rippled slightly. Werewolf, he thought. His magic's different from ours.
"Betwys Beddau is smaller than Llangynog, and has...other advantages," Dumbledore replied. "As with Rhos Y Beddau, it is surrounded by bog-land, though we've determined the foundations of your house are sound."
Sirius, annoyed with Dumbledore's whimsey, crossed his arms over his chest as they entered the avenue, and the white of the stones -- stones swallowed centuries since by bogland -- rose like columns all around them.
"What does it mean?" Remus asked, reaching out to trail his fingers through the white light, curiously. His amber light spread through the white for a second before fading. "Rhos Y Beddau..."
"Moor," Dumbledore translated calmly. "Moor of the Graves."
"Ill-omened," Sirius muttered. He opened his mouth to ask what Betwys Beddau meant, since it wasn't likely to be much better, when they crested a low rise at the end of the avenue, and the distant white glow was suddnely visible -- and spectacular.
It looked like a night sky, Sirius decided; spread below them was another hill-ringed valley, larger than Rhos Y Beddau, containing a small village laid out in the old medieval plan, with a spired church at its centre, shadowy against the sky. White columns ringed the village in a perfect circle that must be miles across, and within the circle, among the houses and shops, the streets and gardens, rose strange, intangible constellations of light.
"This is Betwys Beddau," Dumbledore said softly. "Known to its founders as the Temple of the Graves."
Sirius felt Harry grope for his hand, and took it, holding tightly.
"The earth has swallowed the stones, but they remember," Dumbledore murmured. "Men defiled by blood sacrifice cannot cross here. Here you will be safe."
"But then -- the Fidelius -- " Remus began.
"Merely a precaution," Dumbledore said briskly, all business again. "You'll be able to come and go as you please; I leave it to you whether to enroll Harry in the village school. Your wands will be charmed with restrictions to the most necessary magic only; they'll be attuned to Harry, and available only when he is in mortal danger. You will not be connected to the floo network, or allowed Owls except in an emergency. Severus, once the charm is completed, will not return."
"And that's our new home, is it?" Sirius asked. "Living like Muggles, in fear for our lives?"
"It was your decision, Sirius, to take the boy into your care. If you were not willing to sacrifice for him, you would better have left him be."
"So I'm continually told," Sirius muttered, gazing down at the village of Betwys Beddau. Remus put a hand on his back, just below and between his shoulderblades, as he removed his glasses. It was a comforting reminder of one more thing they'd gained from all this, but after the first pleased rush, Sirius felt himself flush at the casual intimacy of it. He glanced at the others, who were removing their glasses as well.
"Come," Dumbledore said. "It's a short flight to the village."
As they settled on the broomstick again, Harry twisted around, and craned his head upwards so that he faced his godfather, questioningly.
"Do you wish you hadn't taken me away?" he asked, and Sirius tried, for the thousandth time, to smooth the hair off his forehead.
"Never," he said, gently pushing Harry's shoulder so that he faced forward, as the others kicked off from the ground. He leaned over Harry's shoulder, and whispered in his ear.
"Stealing you was the best idea I ever had."
They reached the small house on the outskirts of town a few hours before sunrise, and they were busy hours; Harry, who had moved past childish fatigue into childish hyperactivity, explored the little home from cellar to ceilings, laying claim to the rear room that overlooked the back garden, and opening and shutting all the doors as he passed them. Severus, McGonagall, and Dumbledore went about preparing the Fidelius charm, while Sirius chased after Harry.
Remus, because it was what he defaulted to whenever he was upset or frightened or bored, made tea.
Sat and drank tea.
Watched Severus through a window as he spread strange oils on the corners of the house.
Watched the Aurors charm their wands not to respond to any but the most dire of emergencies.
Drank more tea.
Fixed tea for Sirius, who had finally managed to corner Harry and wrestle him into a chair in the kitchen. Found crackers for Harry to eat, in the well-stocked pantry.
"You're twitchy," Sirius observed, as Remus sliced open a lemon for his third cup of tea in two hours.
"I can't think why," Remus answered. "My flat is gone, your bookshop is gone, we've vanished with not a word to anyone, we're hiding from a psychopath who used to be our best friend, and we're living in a place named the Temple of the Graves."
Sirius couldn't argue. Remus flexed his fingers around the cup, and sighed.
"I feel like my skin doesn't fit right," he admitted. "I have since a little before we landed."
Sirius nodded. "Perhaps it's the circles. Didn't you say you...pick up on things like that?"
"It could be."
"Dumbledore said it would fade."
"I hope so," Remus answered. "If I have to spend the next two years like this I'm going to be a wreck inside of six months."
Sirius glanced at Harry, who -- once stationary -- had begun to gnaw on a cracker and was nodding off slowly. If Dumbledore was to be believed, their beds were with the rest of Remus' flat, out in the garden shed, but he hadn't the energy to consider fetching them. At the moment there was a table in the kitchen, a rather battered sofa in the living room, and one large bed, in the room that Harry had decreed would be Sirius'.
The door opened, and murky grey predawn light filtered in from outside. Severus, looking exhausted, stepped inside.
"It's nearly complete," he said tiredly. Remus offered him tea, but he waved his hand away, placing a cauldron full of shredded herbs and various objects on the table. "You'll need to dispose of these," he added. "Burn them in the cauldron."
Remus nodded, and Snape began to turn, when Remus put out a hand, not-quite-touching him.
"Severus -- " he said stumblingly. Snape stared at him. "Er...thank you. For this. Doing it instead of me, I mean."
"I'm the better candidate," Snape said stiffly, dismissively, and beckoned to Sirius, who stood and walked around the table to face him, slightly defiantly.
"As householder, this involves you," Snape said. "Hold out your hand."
Remus watched as Snape placed the key to the front door in it.
"Do you trust me?" he asked ceremonially.
"Yes," Sirius replied.
"Do you entrust your lives to my discretion?"
"Yes."
"Come outside. All of you."
Harry hopped off the chair and stumbled sleepily through the kitchen door, out into the dew-damp grass after Sirius and Snape. Remus followed, and heard a soft exhalation behind him; when he turned, the house was invisible, seemingly hidden by the grove that was actually on the other side of their new home. Sirius covered his face with one hand.
"It is done," Dumbledore said softly. "Tell them, Severus."
Snape turned to the three of them. "Listen closely," he said, crouching to speak to Harry with their faces on a level, "because I won't be returning to see you before your Hogwarts letter arrives. Your home is The River House, Nineteen Cwndu Road, Betwys Beddau, Powys, Wales. Say it after me, Harry."
"The River House, Nineteen Cwndu Road, Betwys Beddau, Powys, Wales," Harry repeated obediently. Remus closed his eyes and memorised the names, unfamiliar syllables strung together with familiar -- Cwndu Road; Powys, Wales....
When he opened them, their house stood before him again. Small, gabled, with large windows and slightly shabby paint, with a garden that was more "fertile" than "pretty".
Home. For now.
"There are other duties to attend to," Dumbledore reminded them gently, and Severus stood abruptly, turning away from the house. Remus watched his shoulders pull in, his fingers flex -- he remembered that posture from years ago.
The Aurors were already preparing to fly. Harry touched the Potion Master's arm, and Dumbledore -- who could see his face, though Remus and Sirius couldn't -- gave them a sage look. Slowly, Severus crouched again, turning his head slightly so that Harry could speak into his ear. Harry said a few quiet words, and Snape replied with a nod, and a hand on Harry's shoulder, briefly, before he stood and dropped his hand, moving away.
Harry ran to Sirius, burying his face in Sirius' shirt as the others mounted their broomsticks, rising and vanishing quickly in the sudden yellow light of the sunrise. Remus shaded his eyes to follow them as long as he could, then turned to the River House once more.
Back inside, Sirius lit a match from the box near the stove, and tossed it into the cauldron on the table, which flared up and burned quickly, settling to ash within seconds. Remus cleared away the tea things, already missing the charmed scrubbing brush. Harry sat, chin on hands, at the table, swiping at his eyes once in a while in embarrassment.
"We should sleep," Sirius observed, while Remus rinsed out the mugs. "When we wake up we can walk into town, it'll be good to stretch our legs. We can buy bicycles -- Harry should learn to ride one. We'll start unpacking the garden shed, too. Harry's new bedroom is bigger than his old one, we could put up some more shelves..."
"Please don't," Remus said softly. Sirius bowed his head. "Let him grieve for a bit."
"There's something in the cauldron," Harry said suddenly. Both men looked over, worried.
"Harry, don't -- " Sirius warned, but Harry was already reaching into the cauldron, making ash fly up.
"The flowers turned into something," Harry announced, lifting out a square, twine-tied packet. The two men watched as he picked the knot and brushed the last of the burnt "flowers" off the cover of a book -- two books.
"What are they?" Sirius asked, with unusual gentleness.
"Books," Harry answered, distracted by the slick card cover of one of them. He set it aside and opened the larger one, in hard black binding, with some kind of fantastical illustration on its cover. Sirius, as if shaking off a freezing charm, came forward to pick up the smaller book.
"The Dark is Rising," he read aloud. "Apt," he muttered.
"And the other one?" Remus inquired, crossing to the table as well.
"The My...big...onion...." Harry tried.
"Mabinogion," Remus corrected.
"Snape must have left these for him," Sirius said.
"Figures he'd leave that one."
"For Harry Potter," Harry read aloud. Remus and Sirius leaned over his shoulder to read the inscription on the inside cover of the Mabinogion.
For Harry Potter,
To keep you from making mischief, as you will no doubt be encouraged by your godfather to do.
Please make study of this volume in particular, as its educational value is of great import in the absence of
Your Professor
Severus Snape
PS: You will be tested for content.
Sirius scowled; Remus smiled slightly.
"This is quite enough excitement for one day," Sirius said, closing the book and lifting it out of Harry's hands. "Run on to bed now."
Harry slipped off the chair and made for Sirius' bedroom, and the only bed in the place. Sirius glanced up at Remus, whose fingers were, of their own accord, flipping from front to back in the paperback novel, and then back to front again. He put a hand on Remus' to stop them.
"Still twitchy?" he asked. Remus nodded. "Going to be able to sleep?"
"I don't know," he replied truthfully. Sirius took the book from his hands and put it on the table. "You sleep with Harry," Remus continued. "I'll take the sofa. I don't want to kick," he added.
Sirius wrapped his arm around Remus' waist for a brief moment, and kissed him, their foreheads touching.
"When Harry has his own room, we'll turn yours into a library," he whispered against his temple, "And my room into ours. How does that sound?"
Remus gave him a reassuring smile, one he didn't quite feel. "Of course. It'll wear off soon, Dumbledore said."
***
Sirius had shut the heavy curtains in his room, and curled up on the bed as Padfoot -- at least this magic was still allowed to him -- with Harry's head pillowed on his ribcage, Harry's fingers twined in the wooly fur of his forelegs. Remus had made sure they were warm, and then walked back into the sparsely-furnished living room, sitting on the sofa. He didn't expect he'd be able to sleep; it was daytime, for starters, and however tired he was, the strange itch just under his skin persisted. Deep magic in this place; sacred stones swallowed by the earth itself, leaving their protection behind. Rubin was right -- werewolves were sensitive to background magic, but he'd always found the magics at Hogwarts and Diagon Alley comforting, welcoming, whereas this place seemed designed to thrust him away.
He sighed and stared at the ceiling, arms pillowed behind his head. If he had to leave, he could at least come back to visit; he wouldn't think that far ahead right now. After all, thinking ahead had nearly lost him Sirius once.
It wasn't any use.
He stood and wandered down the hallway, lingering in the door of Sirius' new bedroom. Harry's chest rose and fell, and he scratched his cheek in his sleep; Padfoot's legs twitched a little, and his breaths were deeper than Harry's, slower. They were barely more than two shadows in the dim room anyway, but they were his shadows.
Yes. It had been right to take Harry. Surely it had. He had no idea how they'd lived their lives without him. He had no idea how he'd lived his life without the promise of Sirius every morning, every evening.
He crossed to the bed, and Padfoot woke. In a heartbeat he was Sirius again, curled protectively around his godson, who slept on, exhausted and oblivious. They regarded each other across Harry for a moment, and then Remus circled, easing himself onto the bed and wrapping his arms around Sirius' waist from behind, burying his face in the back of Sirius' neck.
"All ri', Moony?" Sirius inquired sleepily. When Sirius spoke, something inside him -- something physical, he felt it -- cracked and snapped, like a twig under pressure, and warmth filled his body. His muscles relaxed, one by one, and the itch faded.
"Oh," Remus said softly. "That's better."
"Gon' sleep?"
"Yes."
"Got Harry," Sirius mumbled. "All ours now."
"Ours," Remus echoed. There was time enough later, after all, to be afraid or worried, and time to worry over the proper things; packing boxes and bicycles, school lessons and bookshelves -- time enough to turn a house into a home, to raise Harry to be a man.
Their home.
Their Harry.
Soon the house was silent, as they slept, and the golden sunlight filled the garden and the river and the grove.
END
