Entry tags:

all harry potter, alternate universe, harry potter r, harrycentric, pg13 - r, remus/sirius, stealing harryverse

Stealing Harry, 12 - 14 of 28
Remus, recovering from the kiss he'd just received and the feel of Sirius' body against his, was halfway through a calming letter to Dumbledore, carefully and possibly redundantly updating him on Harry's progress, when Sirius, from the couch, cleared his throat. He glanced up. Sirius was staring at his book, one leg drawn up against his chest.

"You know when we were in school, James and I..." he said, trailing off. Still looking at the book, Remus noted. "Well, we'd been down to the pub after the Cup match, sixth year, you remember after the party, we went out."

"Yes, because the Slytherins came looking to murder you and nearly got hexed by Lily instead."

"We nicked some firewhiskey and went up to the Shrieking Shack to celebrate."

"Hell of a place to have a party."

"And James said to me, oi Sirius, you ever kissed a boy?"

Remus' breath caught, sharply.

"And we were drunk, and stupid, and what the hell, right?" Sirius said, an embarrassed crimson creeping over his cheeks.

Remus examined himself for bitterness, and was pleased to find none; ten years ago he would have hated Sirius for having let James do that, for having played that game with James and not with him, but James was dead and Sirius was a grown man now, and Remus had done some growing-up of his own.

"Is this supposed to make me feel better about the fact that I'm not going to let you fool around with me because I'm in love with you?" Remus asked, before he could think what he was saying.

Sirius stared at him. It took Remus a minute to figure out why.

"Me?" Sirius asked, slowly, while Remus panicked with his usual quiet grace.

"If you must know," Remus answered tightly, dipping his quill in the ink and bending to finish a sentence.

"Me, Moony?"

"You're not stupid, Sirius, don't act like it."

"You're in love with me?"

"Yes, well, why else would anyone tolerate your atrocious taste in art," Remus replied. "You daft idiot, did you think I kept working at Sandust because I didn't realise I liked it there? I could have bought a partnership in it twice over. I didn't want to. I wanted to work there, still, not have you hire some spotty teenager to do my job while I took in profit and did nothing. I wanted to be around you. Or for you to keep me around. Either way," he added, with a shrug.

"Moony, that's a hell of a thing to tell a man you're supposed to be platonically sharing a bedroom with."

"You're the one who kissed me. Don't tell me you weren't planning to drag me down the hall and seduce me on one of those twin beds."

Sirius brooded for a while. Remus kept writing, though he'd no idea what he was saying; words about Harry and school, his friendship with Ron and Oliver, and Molly's regard for the boy kept flowing from the pen without any attention on his part.

"You don't seem too upset about it," Sirius said finally.

"About the fact that I'm in love with you and you sleep with any female who'll give you the time of day?" Remus asked. Sirius winced. "Well, after nine years -- "

"Nine bloody years, Moony?"

" -- one becomes rather resigned to one's fate. Besides, the physical aspect of any relationship is the least satisfying."

"Wow, have you been sleeping with the wrong people."

Remus laid his quill down, and rested his chin on one hand.

"We spend every day together, Sirius," he said softly. "Whether you're you or Padfoot. We've talked about everything there is to talk about in this world and still we find new things, every day, so that neither of us like it when an actual customer comes in and I've got to help them. You come to me when you need reassurance, when Padfoot wants to be skritched behind the ears, when you don't know what to do. I come to you when I want company, when I'm unsure of myself, and you keep me sane during the full moon, or patch me up after it. We almost never fight. We get drunk together. We're raising a child together, Sirius, for God's sake. You tell me I need to have sex with you to be happy? I have a good life. I don't regret much. I love you. That's enough."

Sirius looked as though his world had been destroyed, and Remus felt a moment of regret, but what could he have done? The words were spoken. There wasn't any way to unspeak them.

"Nine years?" he asked, hoarsely.

"Probably longer," Remus admitted. "But you know, it was James and Lily getting engaged, that really made me think about it."

"For crying out loud, Moony. Why didn't you say something?"

"Because you'd sit there with your jaw open and ask ridiculous questions. Love isn't all grand passions and dying confessions, Sirius. You read too many Russian novels."

Sirius seemed to check himself, and rubbed a hand over his face. Remus finished the letter to Dumbledore, and set it aside to be sealed and sent. What was next -- oh yes, he had a list of things to buy for Harry in Diagon Alley, from Molly, and he wanted to send a note back asking if she wanted him to get anything for her class while he was there...

"Moony, what am I supposed to say to you?" Sirius asked finally.

"Unless you're planning to radically readjust your sexuality and your idea of what love is, I doubt you can say anything," Remus replied.

"What you said about us, doing all those things together, I'm half of that, you know."

"Yes, and you love me like a brother, I'm sure. But you don't want me, you don't desire me, and, ergo, you don't get to seduce me just so you can feel what it's like to be with another man, which, aside from the fact that you haven't been laid in too long, I can only assume is your motivation. Now let's close the book on this and forget it happened," Remus added, setting Molly's note aside. He found his desk clear, and glanced up. Sirius was staring at him still. Remus stood, and walked to the bookshelf, taking down a copy of Euripides' selected plays.

He felt the warmth behind him, the hand on his, before he even realised Sirius had stood. Sirius' hand made him push the book back into the shelf. Sirius' other arm went around his waist.

A small ache started in Remus' stomach. Sirius didn't understand, he was still going to try this, and Remus would have to push him away again.

"I've done my experimenting," Sirius said softly, into his ear. The ache spread upwards, changing as it did so. Remus was familiar with pain, and he knew that it was modulating from the ache of wanting something you couldn't have to the ache of being touched after so long without touch...

"With James," Remus answered.

"I know how it feels."

"Bully for you."

Sirius nuzzled him in the place where his neck met his shoulder, and Remus twitched.

"You smelled so good," he said, his hand bringing Remus' -- still raised to touch the book -- down and across, until both his arms were wrapped around Remus' slim body.

"You didn't borrow my cologne, did you," Remus moaned. "Sirius, stop it -- "

"No," Sirius answered. "I'm half of all we've done, Remus."

The ache had clenched the muscles at his throat, now, and the pleasurable pain where Sirius' lips were pressed to his pulse was almost unbearable.

"You like women," Remus protested, tilting his head back a little to provide Sirius easier access to the sensitive skin of his throat.

"I like you," Sirius replied, breathing small puffs of air along his skin. They stood there for what seemed like too long, until Remus relaxed, slowly, into Sirius' embrace. He turned his head, let Sirius kiss him on the lips again, let Sirius' tongue explore his mouth. He could feel the same sensual, tingling ache in every place their bodies touched; lips, throats, Sirius' chest against his shoulderblades, Sirius' hips against his, the arms around his body, very nearly holding him up.

"Sometimes love is about grand passions," Sirius murmured, into his mouth.

"Too many Russian novels by half," Remus replied, a sigh catching in his throat as Sirius released him, steadied him on his feet. He turned. Sirius was staring at him as if he'd seen a revelation. "It's no good, Sirius," he said softly. "Don't think I don't want this, I'd kill for it, but I don't want you if you're going to enjoy yourself for a few weeks and then go back to chatting up the customers in Sandust."

"That must have killed you," Sirius whispered.

"You are who you are," Remus shrugged, unwilling to admit that the first time it had happened, seven years before, he'd nearly put his fist through the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, re-ordering it where Sirius' attentions had tangled it. Sirius smiled and stepped close. Remus lifted his head and Sirius bent slightly and their foreheads pressed together, and Remus thought he might just die from the ache that was now covering his skin, making it hypersensitive to touch.

"I don't know why I thought it," Sirius said. "God, you smelled good, and I thought...I wanted to touch you. I didn't know how, Moony."

"You did all right," Remus answered. Sirius moved slightly so that their lips were touching again --

There was a knock at the door, and Sirius let out a moan of frustration.

"We're not finished," he said, as Remus pushed past him to answer it.

It was Arthur, a sheepish grin on his face. "Harry forgot his books," he explained. Remus held out a hand to accept them, examining the titles carefully before passing them to Sirius. "Molly says they've reading for Monday, so I thought I ought to bring them by."

"I've a note for Molly, actually..." Remus ducked back towards his desk, fetching the parchment.

"Thank you, Arthur," Sirius said, with a smile. "I'm sure Harry will appreciate that."

"Also, I wanted to ask if you wouldn't mind showing me -- that is to say, I know Harry took Ron around the Muggle shops near Sandust," Arthur said. "As a curiousity, I'd like to see them too, but I'd rather not get into trouble without a...well, a guide."

"No trouble at all," Sirius said, over Remus' shoulder, as he passed him the letter for Molly. "Drop by anytime."

"Ta, lads," Arthur said, giving them a jaunty grin as he and Disapparated from their doorstep. The pair of them stood there for a minute, looking out, before Sirius closed the door, slowly. He turned, and leaned against it, crossing his arms.

"What do we do now, Moony?" he asked, handing Remus the books. Remus set the books down on the hall table, and tried to breathe. Sirius was giving him a look that made it difficult.

"Tea," he said finally. Sirius blinked. "I need tea," he repeated.

"You do realise you're compulsive about tea?" Sirius asked, following him into the kitchen.

"I'm English."

"You're compulsive even for an Englishman."

Remus filled the kettle with water, and pointed his wand at it. It sparked, and steam began to emerge.

"D'you want some?" he asked, taking down two cups. He heard Sirius walk forward, felt his arms go around him again...he was not going to be able to take much more of this relentless affection...

Sirius' right hand turned the cups over, dropped a measure of loose tea into each. Remus leaned back into him, slightly, covering Sirius' left with his where it slid around his waist. Sirius poured the hot water.

"Sugar," Sirius murmured, picking up the shaker and pouring some into one of the mugs. "Honey," he continued, adding it to the other. "Milk?"

"No..." Remus moaned.

"Drink," Sirius said, picking up the cup with the honey in it, and holding it to Remus' lips. He drank, smoothly, the hot tea warming him. Sirius' fingers made small circles against his shirt, just above his hip.

The mug clicked on the counter when Sirius set it down.

"You don't understand," Remus said, gently and reluctantly prying Sirius' arm away.

"I do," Sirius answered, stepping back. "I do understand and you're just frightened."

"I have everything to lose."

"Me?"

"Yes. And if I lose you I lose Harry -- he's not my godson -- "

"You won't lose me."

"Prove it," Remus said quietly. Sirius looked lost.

"How?"

"Be you," Remus replied. "And I will be me. And we'll go on for a while. Like we have been."

Sirius let out an impatient whine, a note of Padfoot in it.

"And if you stay, knowing what you know -- at least until the next full moon is done -- then I'll believe you," Remus said finally. Sirius bent his head, rubbed his neck anxiously.

"Fine," he said. "But after that you don't get to tell me what I'm thinking anymore."

Remus felt a twinge of shame and fear, but Sirius smiled, and reached around him to take his tea.

"I think I'll go read a Russian novel," he said loftily.

***

In the morning, Harry woke to find himself draped across the foot of Oliver's bed, rolled up tightly in Oliver's blanket, while his own sleeping bag seemed to be covering the other boy, who was sleeping properly on the bed, snoring and tossing occasionally.

"Morning, Parvus," said one of the other boys, and Harry slid off the bed. "Sleep all right?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry said politely, digging in his knapsack for clean clothes. The other boy didn't seem at all worried about undressing, so Harry merely turned his back as he changed, packing up his pajamas and laying Frog carefully on top.

"Coming to breakfast?" Percy Weasley asked. "The rest of them'll probably sleep through it, but you can come with me if you like. When're you going home?"

"This afternoon," Harry said sleepily, falling into step with the red-headed boy. "I'm s'posed to go to the Headmaster's office before lunch."

"Right, I can show you were that is," Percy said, as they crossed the silent common room and passed through the portrait hole. "It'll probably be a bore, but you can come to the library with me if you want. I've a paper to write."

"On what?"

"Dark Creatures," Percy answered.

"What're they, then?"

Percy looked down at him curiously. "Like vampires and werewolves, and ghouls, and all. We don't really get to learn about 'em until third year, but we're supposed to write a paper about the different kinds. Sort of a...an overview," he concluded. "It's for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Harry nodded, and let Percy ramble on, while they found their way down the stairs and into the Great Hall. A couple of early-rising Slytherins waved to him as he sat across from Percy at the Gryffindor table, and he saw Professor McGonagall talking to Headmaster Dumbledore at the high teachers' table.

Once he'd woken up a bit, with help from some really excellent fried eggs, he peppered Percy with questions about his classes, until Percy laughed and said the younger boy could help him with his research in the library. Harry, who had been quickly infected with Remus' love of books, followed Percy eagerly, and helped carry books to a study-table.

"You look for pictures of werewolves I could copy out," Percy ordered. "I'm going to find some facts about vampires."

Harry paged through the volumes slowly, staring in awe at the printed plates of various monsters and magical creatures. Percy muttered to himself, copying things down occasionally.

Harry turned a page, and looked down. There was a cartoonish drawing of a normal-looking man, with a little diagram nearby; arrows pointed to his hands and his eyebrows.

"The only way to tell a werewolf from an ordinary human being is to look for hair on the knuckles and a single eyebrow crossing the bridge of the nose," Harry read aloud. "Though not all werewolves possess both these traits, one or another will usually mani...mafi..."

Percy leaned over. "Manifest," he said.

"Manifest itself in an adult werewolf," Harry finished. "Golly, they look just like everyone else."

Percy nodded. "They're savage during the full moon, though. I heard my mum talking about it once. If there aren't any humans around to attack, they'll attack themselves."

Harry, staring at the illustration of a slavering wolf on the opposite page from the smiling, cartoonish man, felt a sudden shock.

He's just sick, Sirius' voice said.

A vision of Remus, lying on the bed and shivering, covered in clawed cuts and bite marks, rose in Harry's mind.

"But they only change on a full moon," Percy said. "And there's only twelve, thirteen of those a year."

Twelve times three is thirty six, Sirius' voice continued.

Two and a half, Remus' voice replied.

Twelve full moons a year and two and a half years until Harry started school...

One of us has to be human, said Remus, in his head.

Harry let out a small gasp, and nearly fell off his chair.

"What?" Percy asked, anxiously. "What is it?"

"N...nothing," Harry stammered. "A picture scared me, that's all."

Percy gave him a tolerant, slightly condescending smile, and returned to his essay.

Moony's a werewolf, Harry thought, staring in shock at the vicious, frightening drawing in front of him. He could even see Remus' hands, deft, nimble-fingered, tying one of Harry's shoes, and the light-brown hair across the knuckles.

He slid off the chair, closing the book suddenly. "I have to go," he said. Percy looked at a clock on the wall.

"There's an hour yet," he said.

"I need to talk to the Headmaster," Harry insisted. "And get my knapsack."

"All right, do you want me to -- "

"No, I know the way," Harry said, hoping he did.

"Are you sure?"

Harry nodded, and fled the library.

He ran down the hallways, navigating by faint memories of following Professor Snape through the castle, until he reached Gryffindor Tower. Oliver and the others were dressing, and Harry pulled the sleeping bag off Oliver's bed, squashing it up until it was once again about the size of his fist.

"Thank you for inviting me," he gasped, because even Moony being a werewolf was not more important than the good manners Moony had taught him. "I had a wonderful time."

"Are you going already?" Oliver asked, disappointed.

"Got to. I'll be back...thanks again..." Harry called, as he ran out.

He found the Headmaster's office without error, but ran into a problem once he arrived; he could knock all he wanted, but the door remained firmly shut.

"Password," a gargoyle said, and Harry almost burst into tears of frustration.

"Cadbury Creme Egg," came a voice from behind Harry, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

Albus Dumbledore stood behind him, smiling gently. "I had not expected you for a while yet," he said, offering his hand to lead Harry into the stairs that led to his office. "Homesick already?" he asked, going to Fawkes' cage and dropping in a handful of some kind of strange feed.

"I...I wanted to ask you..." Harry stammered. Last time, Oliver had asked permission for him to come stay; Harry was still in awe of the Headmaster.

"It's all right, Harry," the Headmaster said, tapping him with his wand to remove the glamour on his scar, the extra-long hair. After nearly two days of having it, Harry felt strange to feel his own close-cropped cut again.

"Is Moony a werewolf?" he blurted. Dumbledore looked down at him, thoughtfully.

"I did think you might come to that conclusion, though I don't think anyone expected it to be so soon," he said, still in the same gentle tone. Harry thought for an awful minute that the Headmaster might tell him that it wasn't his buisness to tell, but instead he said bluntly, "Yes. Remus Lupin is a werewolf." He paused. "You aren't frightened of him, surely?"

"No," Harry said angrily. "He's Moony."

"Ah, the logic of youth," Dumbledore smiled. "You understand that he can't help the way he is?"

"He's not bad, is he?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, he's not. Merely unlucky."

Harry contemplated this. "Should I tell him?"

"That he's unlucky?"

"That I know."

Dumbledore regarded him gravely. "That is your decision, my boy. Now, I believe your guardians are expecting you..." he guided Harry to the large fireplace, and tossed in a handful of Floo powder. "Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black?"

"Here, Headmaster," came Sirius' voice, faintly. "You're early."

"I'm sending Harry through now."

"All right..." Sirius's voice trailed off as Harry stepped into the fire, and announced, "Sandust Bookshop!"

---

There was a certain amount of tension that Harry could sense, when he arrived in the bookshop; having grown up with the Dursleys, Harry was unusually attuned to the moods of the people around him. It was a survival trait more than anything.

Sirius, though he welcomed him back, didn't stay human very long after Harry returned. Remus smiled and was happy to see him, but he was also quiet -- even for Moony -- as Harry sat in one of the wing-chairs, Padfoot's head resting on his knee, and told them about his sleepover in excruciating detail.

Except, of course, for what Percy had been researching.

It was a quiet group that left Sandust as Remus locked up, and Harry, arm slung across Padfoot's broad doggy shoulders, followed him down towards the bakery. The brothers who worked there had already assembled their evening purchase -- a day-old bagel with honey for Padfoot, an apple turnover for Moony, and an oatmeal cookie for Harry.

Harry fed Padfoot the bagel in little bits, as they walked towards the flat. Moony was silent, lost in his own thoughts; Harry was watching him, covertly, to see if it was really true -- if you really couldn't tell a werewolf from a human.

By the time they reached the front door, he'd decided it didn't matter.

"Come into the kitchen, Harry, you ought to wash up. I don't care if he's an animagus, dog drool is dog drool," Remus called, setting his satchel down in the kitchen. Harry came in and climbed the stepstool to the sink, while Remus unpacked his turnover and set it on a plate, leaning on the counter to eat it tidily with a fork.

"Is Sirius changing back tonight?" Harry asked, hearing Padfoot throw himself down in front of the couch in the living room.

"I don't know," Remus replied. "You could ask him."

"Are you fighting?"

"Who?"

"You and Sirius." Harry dried his hands. "When Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia used to fight, she wouldn't speak to him."

"No, Harry, we're not fighting," Remus said, around a mouthful of apple. "When civilised people fight, they sort out their differences as they go, so that they don't have to resort to childish things like the silent treatment."

"But Sirius can't talk when he's Padfoot."

Remus considered him shrewdly. "Harry, you know how you have Frog?"

"Yep."

"And you know how afraid you were when you first came to live with us? And you wouldn't let Frog go?"

Harry grinned and nodded.

"Well, being Padfoot...for Sirius, it's rather like Frog. When he's upset...it gives him space to think about things."

Harry reached up and broke off a corner of his apple turnover. Remus pushed some icing onto it. Harry popped it into his mouth and chewed, thoughtfully.

"So what's he upset over, then?" he asked.

Remus looked startled. Harry waited patiently.

"Well...erm...it's difficult to explain," he began. Harry sighed.

"Is this another grownup thing?" he demanded, slightly impatiently.

"I guess we've used that excuse a lot, these past weeks, haven't we," Remus admitted. "It's just...Sirius is sorting a few things out. He needs to think really hard about them. That's all."

Harry considered the wary-looking man in front of him. After a moment, he nodded.

"All right. But if he isn't Sirius again by tomorrow I'm going to make him take a bath," he concluded. Remus smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Run on in, maybe Padfoot wants you to read to him tonight," he said, watching as Harry left the kitchen and clambered up onto the battered old couch. Padfoot joined him, and Harry took a copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes from the end-table. He listened to Harry read for a few minutes, over the occasional thump of Padfoot's tail against the couch when Harry spelled out a particularly long word, before turning back to the kitchen. There was dinner to make, after all.

He'd stood just about here when Sirius had kissed him. And he'd stood just about here when they'd made tea together, and --

Crockery crashed, and Remus swore.

"All right, Moony?" Harry called from the living room. Padfoot's ears perked.

"Fine, Harry, I just knocked a plate off the counter," he called back, hurriedly fixing it with a Reparo! and a flick of his wand.

Enough of this foolishness. They would go on as they had gone on, hadn't he said that himself?

Better get on with going on then, hadn't you, Lupin...

***

Padfoot slept on Harry's bed that night, though he was human and hogging the shower when Remus woke the next morning. He seemed as though whatever issues he'd been sorting out had been sorted, and for Harry's sake, Remus tried to treat their interactions as normal, but it was difficult. He hadn't realised how much they ribbed and teased each other, until he was no longer comfortable doing it.

It was almost a relief to leave for Sandust, and know that Sirius was taking Harry to a Sunday matinee at the cinema. Sometimes he rather thought it was Harry taking Sirius -- Harry was much more accomplished at handling Muggle money, and better at choosing which movie they ought to see.

This week it was a comedy of some sort, as far as Remus could tell, when Harry and Sirius met him at the door. It was Sirius' turn to cook, which meant that as long as he didn't smell smoke when he stepped inside, it would probably be edible. He sniffed; pork chops. Mashed potatoes...and mushy peas.

Sirius Black comfort food. The sort of thing you'd cook if your best friend was upset with you. Despite the fact that Remus didn't like mushy peas, or have a particular affection for pork chops.

He shook his head. Sirius, so haplessly self-absorbed sometimes.

"Early dinner tonight," Sirius called, from the kitchen. "We're going stargazing."

"We're what?" Remus asked, as he walked towards the bedroom, Harry trailing him.

"Astronomy. Do you know Harry doesn't know a single constellation?" Sirius said, from the kitchen doorway. Remus pulled off his shirt, changing it for a Muggle t-shirt and a jumper.

"Not one?" Remus asked Harry, who shook his head. "Well, that definitely has to be solved, but..."

"I thought we could take the motorbi -- " Sirius paused at Remus' look. "Or the train, the train works too. Get outside the city a little, take a star-chart, you've still got your old textbooks, haven't you?"

"Somewhere."

"We can be back in plenty of time for Harry to get a good night's sleep for school tomorrow, and they're going to start on constellations soon anyhow, Molly said," Sirius continued. Remus, realising that Sirius had planned this carefully, if quickly, dug around in the bureau for his gloves.

"Sounds fine," he answered, walking back down the hallway, Harry running on ahead. Sirius looked at him blankly.

"It does?" he asked.

"Sure, as long as Harry'll get enough sleep. I haven't done any astronomy since school," he said. Sirius continued to look at him. He flashed the other man an enthusiastic grin. "Let's eat, then," he continued.

Sirius, after a few seconds, matched his grin.

"Splendid," he said. "Grand. Let's eat."

"Yay potatoes!" Harry said, climbing into one of the dining-room chairs. Both of them looked at him.

"Did you like mashed potatoes when you were eight?" Remus asked.

"Hated them."

"Me too."

Sirius shrugged, and pushed Remus gently towards the table. "He can have my peas, too..." Remus called after him.

***

"Oi, Moony."

"Hm?"

"Cold?"

"Not after the brandy. You?"

"Got a warming charm on."

"Where's Harry?"

"Asleep. On top of my leg."

"Serve you right."

"For what?"

"Being all...parental and that. Serve you right, kid falling asleep on your leg."

"You weren't supposed to drink the whole flask."

"I didn't. You had at least half."

"A quarter, and I hold my liquor better."

"Lies and falsehoods, Padfoot!"

"You'll wake Harry."

"Well, we did come all the bloody way out here on account of him."

"Look at that."

"What?"

"There's the dog star."

"Hmm, and Orion. I always liked Orion."

"Why?"

"Easy to find."

"No, really, why?"

"First constellation I ever learned. My dad taught it to me."

"One of the first Harry learned, too. We taught him."

"Indeed we did, Pads."

"Taught him the dog star first, though."

"Well, of course."

"I don't mind, you know."

"Mind what?"

"Harry sleeping on my leg. I don't mind...I love him, Moony."

"Course you do. Course you do."

"No but like...not on account of he's James' son or on account of I'm supposed to. I love him. Cos he's him."

"Good."

"D'you hear something?"

"Like what?"

"Dunno. Probably nothing."

"Move over a bit."

"What're you on about?"

"You're warmer than me. I'm cold."

"We ought to go soon."

"Hmm. Soon."

***

Harry was indeed lying on Sirius' right leg, head pillowed on his calf, but he wasn't asleep; he was looking past Sirius' boot, to where a pair of low, shining eyes glittered in the dark.

Hello, said Harry, barely above a whisper. Do you live here?

Hello, big one, said the snake. I live here. Do you?

No, I live in the city, Harry answered.

Then why are you in my field?

Harry thought about this. Sirius took me to look at the stars.

The snake bobbed its head. The what?

The stars.

What are those?

Look up above you, Harry said.

The snake turned its head to look up, then looked back at Harry.

I don't see anything, it said.

I'm sorry, Harry said politely. Maybe you're too small.

There's a mouse next to you, the snake said. I'm going to eat it.

Harry heard movement, felt Remus shift his weight on the blanket the three of them were sharing, moving closer to Sirius. When he looked back, the snake was darting away, after a shadow -- the mouse it had intended to eat.

"Sirius?" he said, sleepily.

"Yes, lad," Sirius' voice, low and even. "I think it's time we packed it in for the night."

Harry pushed himself up, and saw Sirius sitting up too, rubbing the back of his head. Remus was lying next to Sirius, hands behind his head, still staring up at the stars. "Come on, Moony," Sirius said, poking him. Remus smiled, barely visible in the starlight, and rolled off the blanket. Sirius folded it a few times, then wrapped it around Harry and scooped him up in it. Harry shrieked, surprised.

"Come on, we'll catch the last train back," Sirius said, setting Harry down again and giving him the blanket to wrap around his shoulders. "Coming, Moony?"

Both turned to see Remus, standing there, looking up at the moon. He glanced at Sirius, then back up again.

"Moon's waxing," he said quietly.

"Does every month," Sirius answered.

"So I'm told," Remus said, with a sudden smile. "Right, we'd better get back or Harry'll fall asleep in school tomorrow and Molly will tan both our hides."

***

The next week-end, Harry visited Hogwarts again, excited to be able to see his first actual Quidditch game. It was going to be Slytherin against Hufflepuff, and Harry wanted to sneak away to sit with Oliver and listen to his play-by-play, but he was content enough to sit next to Professor Snape and cheer on his friends in Slytherin house.

"I hope you aren't cold," said Professor Snape, as he followed Harry up the ladder and into the stands. Harry waved his black knit gloves, and pulled his red hat tighter on his head. "You must take care, it's quite windy today."

Harry didn't point out that he'd been in the stands when they were empty, many times before, without accidentally falling to his doom. Instead he let Professor Snape put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and lead him to a pair of really great seats. He waved at Oliver, who grinned and waved back.

"You may see your friend after the game," Professor Snape said, coolly. Harry perched himself on the bench, and sat, fidgeting excitedly. "Do be still, child," Snape said. Harry satisfied himself with looking over every inch of the Pitch, and trying to name off all the students nearby. He knew a good number of them, by now, mostly Slytherins and Gryffindors. He still found it peculiar that the two houses didn't talk.

A small waxed-paper sack appeared next to him, and he glanced up at Professor Snape, who was apparently watching the players walk out onto the Pitch. He picked it up, feeling it warm against his palm. The sack was filled with sweet roasted almonds, the sort that one of the students was selling before the game.

"Thank you," he said, below the cheering of the students. Professor Snape didn't answer.

He cheered fairly indiscriminantly; it was fun to yell for Slytherin, who were winning, but also a secret sort of joy to root for the underdog Hufflepuff, who were obviously trying harder. Oliver seemed to be pulling for Hufflepuff as well.

Then he saw the Slytherin Seeker dive, and knew she'd seen the Snitch -- he fancied he could make out the small golden ball as well, and he actually caught his breath when her hand snapped closed around it, and she pulled away from the dive, circling the stands to riotous cheers.

"They won! Did you see?" Harry asked, forgetting himself and tugging on Professor Snape's arm. He let go immediately, but the older man merely glanced at him, and the edges of his mouth quirked momentarily.

"I did see," he said, calmly. "It was well done."

He waited while Harry ran across the stands to talk to Oliver, who was less cheerful, but no less excited.

"This means Hufflepuff's out of the Cup running, and it'll be Gryffindor and Slytherin for the cup," he explained, sharing the last of Harry's roasted almonds. "Bill Weasley promised me I could help them get dressed and carry their brooms for them before the cup, what'd'ya think of that?"

Harry was awestruck. "I'll root for Gryffindor then!" he said. "I'm sure I'll be let come back to watch the last game. I've got a red and gold shirt even, and Si -- and my dad'll give me a sickle to buy a pennant with."

"Parvus," Professor Snape called.

"I've gotta go. Tell Hufflepuff I'm sorry!" Harry called, as he ran back towards Professor Snape, shoving the empty waxed paper into his pocket. He held out his hand, and like second nature, Professor Snape took it, leading him through the crowds, towards the ladder.

"Where're we going now?" Harry asked.

"Back to the dungeons, you've had enough excitement for one day," Professor Snape replied. "You may help me feed the animals."

Harry clambered down the ladder, waiting at the bottom for Snape, who dusted himself off before joining the crowds walking back towards the castle.

"Will you take me to see a grownup Quidditch game sometime?" Harry asked. "In a stadium and everything?"

"We shall see," Snape replied. "I think you are rather too exciteable."

"I'll be good," Harry promised. "Please?"

"We shall see," Snape repeated. "Until I decide, do not speak of it further."

Harry obediently fell silent. He'd found the best way to please the cranky professor was to be quiet, and do as he was told; it was hardly ever a chore, especially if he was being quiet and doing as he was told in a place like Diagon Alley, where one didn't need to talk to experience the wonders of the magical shops.

---

When they arrived back at the castle, Snape unlocked the small, warm room labeled "No Students Allowed", and Harry stepped inside, enjoying the heat on his face after the chilly outdoors. He knew the dungeons quite well by now; there was the Potions classroom, with a storage closet on one side and the artificially-warmed animal room on the other, and the large rack of student-access ingredients in the back. Beyond that, the Slytherin common room, and Professor Snape's quarters, neither of which he'd seen for more than a minute or two.

He'd been in the animal room once before, but only briefly; now, Snape led him inside, and gave him a small jar of white pellets.

"The far wall, the mice," he said, and Harry crossed the dim space, curiously eyeing a glass case full of mice. Snape appeared behind him, his hand dipping into the terrarium to retrieve a small blue bowl. Harry filled it, stopping when Snape told him to, and watched the mice rush to the bowl as Snape set it down again.

"Does it tickle?" he asked, seeing the mice brush past the Potions Master's pale fingers.

"I don't notice it," Snape replied.

"What're they for?"

"Snake food. And some spells," the man added thoughtfully. Harry watched them, thinking of the snake in the field when he'd gone stargazing with Sirius and Remus. "The larger ones have already been fed, or I would demonstrate," Snape said, with a toothy, not-very-pleasant grin. Harry followed him to a stand against one wall, climbing on top of a chair to press his nose to the glass of another terrarium. A small garter snake lay lazily in this one, forked tongue flicking out every once in a while.

"You like snakes, huh?" Harry asked.

"Whether I like them is immaterial," Snape answered.

"Then why've you got so many?"

"They're necessary. Snake-skin is a common potions ingredient, and some breeds are useful for augury."

"What's that?"

"A method of telling the future. Far more accurate than pasteboard cards and tea dregs," Snape said, and Harry formed a mental picture of Professor Trelawney. "This specimen is useful mainly for its unique skin. It's called -- "

"Hello, snake!" Harry said, as the snake began to move. Professor Snape scowled.

"Don't you want to know its name?"

"Snakes haven't got names," Harry replied scornfully.

"How do you know?"

"I asked one once. She told me," Harry answered absently. How are you today, snake? he asked. The snake bobbed its head. Are you hungry? he continued. What d'you eat?

Littler things, came the reply.

Harry grinned up at Professor Snape, who was staring at him in shock. "What do you feed this one?" Harry continued, blithely.

"Can you understand what it's saying?" Professor Snape asked.

"Oh, yes. Sometimes, they don't like to talk. They're shy."

The professor didn't seem to be doing anything, so Harry jumped off the stool and went to the opposite counter, where a large jar of crickets stood. Crickets were little, after all.

"How do I just get a few?" he asked plaintively. As if pulled out of a trance, the man picked up the jar swiftly, releasing a catch on the lid, and let two or three insects slide out through a narrow gap, into the snake's cage. The snake made short work of them, hissing with delight, while Harry watched in fascination.

"Mm, Crickets!" Harry exclaimed. "I bet those are like chocolate for them, huh?"

"I...had not considered the matter," Professor Snape replied, fingers tapping on the glass of the cricket jar. "How did you know it wanted crickets?"

Harry sighed. "He told me."

"How?"

Harry paused, and met Professor Snape's eyes directly, something he very rarely did. They were dark, but gleaming with curiosity.

"My aunt and uncle didn't believe me either," he said.

"Didn't believe you?"

"I told them I could hear what snakes were thinking," Harry explained. "And I can," he added angrily. "I'm not telling tales."

Professor Snape was very quiet. After a moment, he turned, and picked up a strange-looking contraption from the table.

"Come with me," he said, leading Harry deeper into the gloom. They ended in a dark corner, where the only light was cast by a heat lamp above a small case. Inside was a thin, black, angry-looking reptile.

"This is a Black Tiger. Its venom is prized for its magical properties. It is the basis for a number of extremely complicated potions, the compositions of which are..." he paused. "...of no interest to eight year olds. The venom is collected through a process known as milking."

"Like a cow?" Harry asked.

"Rather not. The snake bites the rubber pad, here..." Snape indicated the lid of the contraption, "...and the venom drips down into the jar. Unfortunately, they are...tempermental beasts."

"Oh," Harry said thoughtfully. He regarded the snake. "He looks mean."

"As such, I have been unable to successfully collect any venom. So," Snape said, lifting the lid. "Let us try an experiment, shall we?"

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"You believe snakes can understand you?"

"Yep."

"Can you tell this one to do as I've shown?"

"To bite the rubber bit?" Harry asked.

"Precisely."

Harry leaned over until he was on eye level with the snake, took a deep breath, and said, Hello, snake.

Sod off, said the snake. He sounded remarkably like Professor Snape, and Harry grinned.

Don't you like your cage? Harry asked.

My what?

Do you like the heat?

Yes.

Harry nodded. Bet you wouldn't like it much if the heat went away.

Sod off, the snake repeated.

My uncle wants you to bite the little thing he's sticking into your cage, Harry continued. And if you don't we'll make the heat go away.

The snake stared at him. He reared, suddenly, and hissed. Harry felt Professor Snape grip his shoulder, ready to pull him back.

Bad snake, Harry scolded. Do as you're told.

Why should I bite a silly thing like that? the snake said sullenly. Harry thought about it.

If you do, we'll give you a mouse, he said.

A whole mouse?

"Can we give him a mouse?" Harry whispered. Snape glanced down at him.

"Yes."

A whole mouse, Harry promised. Still alive, even.

The creature darted forward, faster than Professor Snape could draw back; before either human knew it, the snake had thrust its fangs into the rubber covering of the jar, and was thrashing back and forth.

Snape held it until the snake was exhausted, thumb behind the head, deftly keeping it in place. When he released it, it snapped half-heartedly at his hand before slinking into a hollow in one of the rocks.

Harry ran back to the terrarium with the mice in it, and reached in, unsqueamishly grabbing a small one and carrying it back to Snape, who was fascinated -- glancing from the jar to the snake and then back to the jar again.

"We promised," Harry said. Snape took the mouse and dropped it, by the tail, into the cage.

"Come away now, boy," he said, though Harry wanted to stay and see if the snake could really eat an entire live mouse at one go. He covered the jar with a glass stopper, placed it in a chilled cupboard, and led Harry out into the Potions classroom. Harry sat on one of the workbenches, and Snape leaned on his desk.

"Did the experiment work?" Harry asked, suddenly afraid he'd done something wrong.

"Yes, Harry," said Snape, using his real name for once. "I do believe it did."

***

Harry's visits with Snape always made Sirius cranky, and Remus tried to distract him; in this case (though it wasn't what Sirius would have picked) he had slyly arranged an invitation to an early dinner out of Molly. Sirius, who knew when he was being manipulated, refused to change back from Padfoot. Remus, undaunted, brought the dog along, giving the excuse that Sirius wasn't feeling himself, much to both of their amusement. At least this way he didn't have to make dinner conversation and answer questions about Moira.

He'd spent a lot of time as Padfoot lately, Remus reflected. It was slightly worrying.

Still, being a gigantic black dog did nothing for Sirius' desire to be left alone; all through dinner the children slipped him scraps of Molly's excellent meal, and afterwards his presence was demanded on the lawn. Fetch might not be as entertaining to an animagus as to an actual dog, but it did give him a chance to stretch his legs a bit. Remus, meanwhile, sat with Molly and Arthur near the back door, watching the children play and sharing the wine he'd brought as his contribution.

Ginny and Padfoot ran up as Fred and George got into a wrestling match, and threw themselves down on the lawn near Remus, who, it was suspected, was the object of Ginny's seven-year-old adulation.

"There now, Pads, don't smash her," Remus chided, as Padfoot nearly sat on Ginny, who squeaked and moved out of the way.

"That your only worry, with a dog his size?" Arthur asked.

"Pretty much. The worst he ever does is accidentally knock over furniture," Remus answered, while Padfoot allowed Ginny to rest her head on his neck.

"He's such a gentle dog," Molly said. "And good with the children -- Harry's always talking about him. Really, it's rare to find that in big dogs."

"He's a child himself," Remus murmured. There was a twitch of the ears from Padfoot.

"Ought to breed him, Remus," Arthur said. Padfoot snorted suddenly, and Remus hid a smile.

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps he wouldn't take to it," Remus replied.

"Well, then you ought to get him neutere -- my!" Molly exclaimed, as Padfoot yelped. "Ginny, don't pull his ears."

"I wasn't!" Ginny said petulantly. Padfoot slunk most of his enormous bulk under Remus' chair.

"Especially since you don't keep him on a lead. I mean who knows what he might get up to while you're not watching him," Molly continued.

"I'm not sure I want to know," Remus answered easily. Padfoot, head poking out from under the chair, was glaring balefully at him. He reached out to skritch him behind the ears. "He's a good dog."

"Well, if you do stud him out, we wouldn't mind a puppy, would we, Moll?" Arthur said. Molly looked dubious, even at the prospect of gentle Padfoot's pups. Arthur reached over and pulled Padfoot's muzzle up slightly, checking his teeth.

"Ought to have some of these looked at," he said, with the air of a professional. "There are chew toys that clean the teeth, I've heard..."

Remus coughed to hide his laughter as Padfoot tugged away, resting his head across Remus' shoes.

"Is he a mutt, now, or purebred?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, very pure," Remus replied. Padfoot bit his ankle. "His mother was quite a fine bitch."

Padfoot lapped at the bite, apologetically.

"How does Sirius like him? I thought he and Sirius didn't get on so well."

"Not at all. Sometimes Pads even sleeps on Sirius' bed," Remus said, amused. "Though of course he likes Harry better."

"Really? I'd think an eight-year-old wouldn't hold much interest for a dog like him."

"Well, Harry feeds him," Remus grinned.

He was going to get thoroughly yelled at later by Sirius, but it was entirely worth it.

***

"It is not so unexpected, Severus. We know Voldemort was a Parseltongue, and that the boy is closely linked to him, in ways we are only beginning to understand."

"But in a child so young, Headmaster, certainly something ought to be done."

"What precisely would you do?"

"...I don't know. Educate him somehow."

"He is receiving an excellent education at the hands of Molly Weasley, and will be attending Hogwarts. Do you propose to tell his guardians?"

"I hardly see how we can keep it from them. Surely we have an obligation to use this knowledge."

"Do we? Of what use is his ability, at the moment?"

"Use? He's a boy, he shouldn't be talking to snakes. And let us not forget many dark wizards began as parseltongues."

"Many dark wizards were parseltongues, Severus, there is a difference."

"Black and Lupin ought to know."

"Surely they'll notice, in their own time."

"I don't like them, you know, but they are responsible for Harry's welfare."

"And you like Harry."

***

Severus paused in his pacing of Dumbledore's rooms, stopping so sharply that his robe hems swirled around the tops of his boots. He stared at the Headmaster, dumbstruck.

"He is a charming little boy, there's no sin in being fond of the lad," Dumbledore continued imperturbably.

"I'm responsible for his education in what it means to be a wizard, that is all," Severus said tightly.

Dumbledore smiled. "And you have no personal feelings towards the boy."

"None whatsoever."

"Purchasing treats for him at the Quidditch match, I suppose that's merely -- "

" -- making sure he's well-nourished. I don't trust Black to keep milk cold, let alone fix edible meals for him."

"And your boasts to Minerva of his intelligence?"

"Observations shared with a fellow teacher."

Dumbledore's fingers tapped on his desk, thoughtfully.

"It's..." Severus began, stopped, tried again. "When he is...Parvus...it is very easy not to see his father in him. It is easy to think of him as...a nephew. Family."

Dumbledore's gaze was unnerving. Severus shifted his weight and changed the subject quickly. "He doesn't think it's anything unusual, you know. All children think they can talk to animals, it's -- young ones have vivid imaginations. He simply never grew out of that delusion, because that delusion happened to be true. To him it's as natural as speaking to you, or to myself. Perhaps more so. He perceives them as his equals. He's not squeamish, either, he wanted to feed that mouse to the viper himself."

"He understands the orders of nature," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Severus, let the boy be. You will not speak of this to Sirius. If he discovers it on his own, well and good; if not, I see no harm in allowing it to continue."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said, sullenly. "Shall I fetch Harry?"

"Please do."

The dark-haired man passed into the outer chamber, and held out his hand. Harry glanced at it for a moment, surprised -- Professor Snape had never offered his hand before, merely taken Harry's when it was held up -- and took it, allowing himself to be led into the office. Dumbledore was just leaning out of the fireplace.

"You're ready, Harry," he said, as Severus removed the glamour from his scar and hair. "Do travel safely."

"Thank you," Harry said politely, well-used by now to the trip. He tossed a handful of floo powder into the flame, stepped inside, and said, "Sandust Books!" clearly.

Dumbledore looked up at his Potions master, who was watching Harry vanish from sight.

"There is no harm, sometimes, in letting a child be a child," he said gently.

"Harry is more than a child," Snape replied. "But I hardly imagine that will change anything. Good day, Headmaster."

***

Harry returned to Sandust to find Remus gone again; Sirius was quiet and Harry thoughtful as they ate, and Harry spent the evening reading about Wales, where Remus had apparently gone exploring. Harry slipped a glance at the calendar, where the full-moons were pre-printed, and realised that Moony was timing his travels now. He'd get sick while traveling, and come back in...well, Tuesday was the full moon, so, four days from now...

He curled closer against Sirius' hip. His godfather was reading a novel of some kind, and he glanced down as Harry shifted.

"You look worried, pup," he said quietly.

"M'not," Harry answered. "Just thinkin'."

"About?"

"Snakes," Harry lied. "Professor Snape's got tons of 'em."

Sirius grinned. "You like reptiles?"

"Yeah, I guess. Snakes are neat. They never lie," Harry added. Sirius rubbed his hair, and closed his book.

"I know we've been asking you to keep a lot of secrets, Harry," he said. "But they're for your own good. When you start school, everything'll change. Not so many secrets," he continued.

Harry privately reflected that Sirius didn't know the half of it.

"And we're better than the Dursleys," Sirius said. "Er...we are better, aren't we? You don't want to go back there, do you?"

Harry shook his head vigorously. Give up Sirius and Remus, his new friends, his books and toys, Professor Snape and the snakes, all because of a couple of secrets?

Sirius was smiling at him. "Good lad," he said. "No fear, eh?"

"No fear," Harry replied. "Am I really gonna go to Hogwarts?"

"Course you are, why wouldn't you? You've got magical ability and you're a Potter. Very old respected wizarding family, the Potters," Sirius said, almost to himself. "And you've got me and Moony too. There's nobody better at Dark Arts than Moony, you know."

"What about you?"

Sirius paused. "I'm more sort of an all-over wizard," he said. "I do a little of everything."

"Are you from a Very Old Respected Wizarding Family?" Harry asked.

"Well, I don't know about Respected, but Old certainly applies. The Blacks are a very ancient house."

Harry got the mental image of a house made entirely of mummies. Sirius saw the look on his face, and grinned.

"What I mean is, they've been around forever," Sirius said. "It's not a literal house."

"Do you have a dad and mum?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry, they died. All I've got is -- " he paused. "Well, you. And Moony. It's us three, you know. All we've got is each other."

"And the Weasleys," Harry added.

"All right, and the -- "

"And Professor Snape and Oliver."

"Well, that might be stretching things a bit," Sirius temporised. "Not that Oliver's not a nice enough lad, I'm sure, but he doesn't feed and clothe you, you know."

Harry grinned and jumped down off the couch. "Let's go play chess," he said. "Nina's been teaching me."

"Oh?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Who's this Nina now?"

"A girl in Gryffindor."

"A girlfriend?" Sirius drawled. Harry laughed and hooked a hand in his pocket, pulling him along. "All right, short stuff, calm down..." He reached up into the cupboard and took down the gameboard.

All in all, he thought, there were far worse ways to spend an evening than playing chess with his godson.