Of Brothers and Bonds

Harry was a little annoyed when he was woken up before the sun was even fully up. It wasn’t by John or any of his kids either, it was Tommy who silently shook Harry’s shoulder until Harry groggily swatted at him and finally woke up.

“If you are agreeable, I have a job for you,” Tommy said quietly while Harry blinked up at him from the sofa he slept on. “It is time sensitive though, so I need an answer quickly.”

Harry was tired enough to consider saying no, but he wanted to know what the job was first.

“What is it?” Harry asked in a croaky whisper. His throat felt like he had been sleeping with cotton balls in it, he could probably happily drink a gallon of water then fall right back asleep.

Tommy shook his head then gestured for the door; apparently Harry couldn’t find out what the job was without following him outside.

It was cold out, Harry was shivering even while he tried to pull on his coat. The coat was nice, and it made Harry feel conflicted over owning it.

On the one hand, it was a warm coat and Harry was grateful. On the other hand… Harry would have rather known the truth about Barty than have Remus give him a coat.

Tommy didn’t seem as bothered, though Harry thought he should have. Tommy had his coat unbuttoned and instead reached for one of the cigarettes he always had.

“I have a business proposition I need to make to the owner of the Garrison,” Tommy said, focusing on lighting his cigarette. “In return for your assistance, I will have a flat where Crouch can be moved to.”

Harry wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t top of his year like Hermione and he did once - just last month - let himself be kidnapped, but he had spent enough time around Tommy to know to be a little suspicious of his ‘propositions’.

“A flat where Barty can live?” Harry checked, squinting in suspicion. “Because he’ll be alive?”

Tommy’s lips curved just a little to the side and he inclined his head.

“Yes, Harry, he will be alive.”

Tommy said it dryly, as if he hadn’t just the night before offered to kill Barty. Barty was weird, he shouldn’t have a wand, Harry could never overlook him joining Voldemort, but Harry didn’t feel great with the idea of killing him either.

“And does the proposition for the owner of the pub include killing him?” Harry asked.

Tommy hesitated and Harry sighed while he wrapped his arms around himself for extra warmth.

“I don’t want to be involved in killing anyone,” Harry told him. Fake murder to save lives was different, but Harry wasn’t going to go around waving a gun and actually killing people.

“I believe your role will be more imitation than actual injury,” Tommy said. “Mark will be amenable, I am certain of it.”

“And if not?” Harry asked. Harry was already awake and cold, he liked Tommy more than almost anyone else in Small Heath. If Tommy said they weren’t killing anyone then Harry would go with him. Harry just wanted to be sure that his skinny, untrained, underage self wasn’t going to be expected to rough a man up.

“If not…” Tommy raised a shoulder and still had that slight curve to his lips that Harry thought was as close to a smile as he got.

“Assist me anyway and I’ll buy you a horse on Sunday.”

So Harry’s morals could be bought it seemed.

Tommy led Harry through town to the Garrison. There were a lot of others awake and walking through the town, which surprised Harry until Tommy said they were mostly factory workers reporting to duty.

“My uncle works for a drill factory,” Harry said. “I think he’d die if he had to be up so early.”

“Delightful,” Tommy said. “A common man. My father also worked for a factory, back when Saltley manufactured coal.”

“Is he still alive?” Harry asked, working hard to mask his curiosity behind some respect.

“I hope not,” Tommy said simply. “Life is monumentally easier without him around me.”

Harry considered that while they walked. Harry couldn’t imagine ever hoping that his dad was dead, Harry frequently found himself wishing the exact opposite. Uncle Vernon was different, Harry didn’t have any attachment to him. Which then made Harry wonder if Tommy’s dad was about as nice as Uncle Vernon.

It didn’t seem like a question to ask though, so he didn’t. Maybe if Remus got rid of the death eater and traitor in their flat then Harry could ask him.

For some reason, that made Harry’s chest twinge in a painful way. Things with Remus had been good, Harry liked Remus. Remus was very nearly like what Harry thought a parent would be like… all the way up until he started bringing home murderers and expecting Harry to just accept them.

Tommy had probably killed people before, he didn’t seem wholly opposed to killing the owner of the Garrison. It was different though because… because… well, Tommy didn’t kill anyone that was important to Harry. He also wasn’t a death eater, Harry doubted that Voldemort ever let muggles join him.

“You’re not secretly a death eater, right?” Harry checked.

“The facist group of gypsies who Remus went to war against? No.” Tommy stubbed out his cigarette and they must have reached the flat of the man they were meant to ‘intimidate’ because Tommy roughly yanked open the nondescript door beside the main entrance to the Garrison, busting the lock.

“I am not a good man, Harry,” Tommy said quietly. He patted the gun secured on his hip and looked Harry square in the eyes, which was startling when Harry had to see how icy and cold Tommy’s blue eyes were.

“I am not a facist though,” Tommy told him. “So I suppose I could be much worse. Now, I need you to pull your wand and talk a lot about curses. Understand?”

Harry could talk about curses, but he wouldn’t mention to Tommy that the only one he really knew was a tongue-tying curse. It probably wouldn’t matter, Tommy seemed like he was good at talking people into doing what he wanted them to do.

Why else was Harry pulling his wand at five in the morning?

Mark, the bloke who had owned the Garrison, wound up being quite easy to convince to sell his pub to Tommy. It was more Tommy than Harry, Harry was sure. Mark had been in his sleep clothes and went pale when Tommy let himself inside the flat with Harry sticking close behind him.

Tommy told Mark that he wasn’t happy about Mark talking to a cop. Mark had stuttered through an apology, but Tommy didn’t want to hear it. Tommy raised his hand, silencing Mark immediately.

“Your pub or your life,” Tommy told him, cold as anything. “Decide quickly, I have a multitude of things I would rather be doing right now.”

Mark had only glanced in Harry’s direction a few times during the relatively quick conversation. Harry had been doing his best impression of Crabbe and Goyle, two Slytherin boys that were more brawn than brain. Harry crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows down while he tapped his wand on his arms threateningly.

It probably looked stupid, Harry certainly felt stupid.

Either way, Tommy bought the Garrison off Mark for what Harry was sure was a low price. Mark gave Tommy the keys for the pub and the other two flats that he rented out to customers.

“I expect you to be gone by nightfall,” Tommy told Mark once he had the keys and the paperwork signed. “If you speak with the agent again, I will know.”

Mark nodded and Harry swore that he was already packing when Tommy leisurely left the flat, taking his time to possessively touch the walls and various fixtures.

Harry was not disappointed that Mark got to live, that would be horrible. Harry was only a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to be able to own his own horse.

That would be sort of really brilliant. Harry could probably afford to buy one himself, he didn’t actually know how much horses cost, but where would he put it? Remus only had a flat and if Harry ruined things with Remus… well, the Dursleys wouldn’t be Harry to see Harry or a horse.

“You did well,” Tommy told Harry after they left Mark’s flat. Tommy walked directly to the door of the Garrison and unlocked it. He held the door open for Harry then followed him inside.

“I really didn’t do anything,” Harry admitted. “I just stood there.”

“And yet if you were not there then I am certain Mark would have been much less agreeable,” Tommy said politely.

“So we’re still on for moving Barty and going to the races on Sunday?” Harry asked hopefully. Harry very much wanted to go see a horse race, he was sure it would be amazing.

Tommy paused mid-step and frowned at Harry. That didn’t bode well for Harry, but Tommy was apparently just confused and not trying to find a way to tell him it had all been a trick.

“I said we would,” Tommy told him. “Did I not?”

“You did,” Harry said quickly. “I just - er… I dunno. I just wanted to check.”

“I see. You and I will be at the race on Sunday,” Tommy said. He pointed to one of the tall stools against the counter. “If you would have a seat, I will go personally ensure that Crouch is moved from your home.”

Harry thanked Tommy then sat down. When Tommy left, Harry began tapping his hands on the counter, wondering what his friends were doing. When Harry got a bit depressed thinking about his friends he started trying to mimic Tommy’s way of speaking.

There was a heavy accent there, but Tommy also had a formal way of speaking as if everything he said was indisputably important.

“‘I will go personally ensure’… no not that…” Harry tried again, that time comparing how Remus slipped into an accent similar to Tommy’s almost the instant they arrived in Small Heath.

“‘Those things will bloody kill you’,” Harry said quietly, mimicking something Remus said frequently. That didn’t sound right either, but Harry shut his mouth when he heard the door open behind him.

At first Harry didn’t see anyone, just a door that opened itself in an empty pub. It was actually kind of eerie, sitting alone in a place made to be filled with people and noise. Except Harry wasn’t entirely alone because when he glanced down toward the floor, he saw the black dog that had been bothering Tommy before.

“Hey, boy.” Harry reached a hand out for the dog and started to grin. “What are you—”

Harry was going to ask ‘What are you doing?’ but ‘What are you?’ would have been the better question. Because with two shakes of his entire body, the large dog suddenly shifted into a thin man with hair as black as the dog’s fur had been.

“Black!” Harry jumped to his feet and had his wand back in his hand in an instant. He aimed it at Sirius Black and reeled with the realization that the man must be an animagus.

It was not impressive, not at all. Even if McGonagall had called it an extremely complicated and dangerous branch of magic.

“Me.” Black raised his empty hands up with the palms facing Harry. He flashed a joyless smile while his eyes tracked Harry’s wand that was pointed at his chest.

“You’ll notice, Harry, that I don’t have a wand on me,” Black said in his croaking voice. “I just want a chance to explain myself to you.”

“I know all about you,” Harry spat angrily. “You betrayed my parents, sold them out to Voldemort. It’s your fault they’re dead! ALL OF IT IS YOUR FAULT!”

Every bad day Harry ever had was Sirius Black’s fault. Every lonely night spent in a cupboard, every time Harry had shed a tear over the lack of family or love in his life was Black’s fault.

All of it could be laid on his bony shoulders.

“It is,” Black agreed. He swayed some and Harry twitched when he reached out to grasp the back of a chair near him.

“Not for the reasons you think,” Black insisted, his voice quivering like he was the one upset by the conversation. “Please, let me explain. If you want to try killing me afterward then I’m sure you know plenty of blokes with guns in this town.”

That wryly added comment reminded Harry that Tommy said he shot Black. Harry didn’t see any evidence of an injury… which meant Remus had patched him up.

Remus, who had been good to Harry. Remus, who had adopted Harry and swore he didn’t have to go back to his relatives.

Harry didn’t owe Black a single thing, but he did owe Remus at least two minutes to listen to what Black had to say. Afterward, like Black said, if Harry didn’t like what he said then he did know a bloke with a gun who had already shot him once.

“Explain quickly,” Harry said. Harry pointed his wand at the chair that Black held. “Sit.”

Black sat and Harry slowly sat back down in his chair, facing Black with his wand in hand. Harry didn’t see a wand on Black, but he wasn’t going to get relaxed around the man that - that had…

“Oi! You’ve been following me!” Harry accused Black suddenly. “I’ve seen you!”

Harry had seen Black at the Dursley’s house the night he ran away, then again at Hogwarts. Black had been in the stands when Harry fell from his broom and he had been on the lawns just a day or two before Harry left with Lupin.

“I have been,” Black said, much too calmly. “I don’t know if Remus told you or not, but I’m - I’m your godfather.”

Harry scoffed angrily, some godfather he was. Black ignored his small outburst and started his story, giving Harry the explanation he said he had.

“When your parents went into hiding, they needed a secret keeper,” Black began. “They asked me, your father and I were closer than brothers. James knew that I would never betray him. I was fighting though, I was a part of every battle that we had. It would hurt our side of the war if I had to go into hiding as well, and so I suggested Peter, our friend.”

Harry knew some of what Black said, from overhearing a conversation in the Three Broomsticks. Some of it was new though, some of it actually made sense.

“Peter wasn’t particularly skilled at fighting, he didn’t enjoy the battles like I did. If he were the secret-keeper then he could go in hiding like your parents and he would be safe. I pitched the idea to your father and he - he agreed.” Black took a breath and it shook when he exhaled with genuine emotion.

“We didn’t tell anyone, we didn’t know who to trust and who would be made a bigger target by having the information.” Black’s eyes filled with shadows of what seemed like grief to Harry. It made Harry feel uncomfortable in a way because it was Harry’s parents who had suffered… but maybe it had been Black as well.

“I thought it was brilliant, another piece of brilliance that nobody else would think of but me.” Black barked out a laugh that caused Harry to jolt, as misplaced as it was. “I didn’t know that Peter had his own plans brewing. I don’t know if he was already on Voldemort’s side or if he switched later… but he was the one, Harry. He was the one who sold your parents to Voldemort.”

“Pettigrew is dead,” Harry said, because Black didn’t sound like he knew that. “You killed him. You killed all those people and you tried to kill me.”

Even as Harry said it, it didn’t feel right. Black had been following Harry for months, he had more opportunities than anyone to kill him if he wanted to. The only person that Harry knew had been attacked by Black were Ron’s bed curtains.

“Peter killed those muggles,” Black said, shaking his head. “I confronted him and he started yelling about how I killed James and Lily, then he blew the street up and faked his death.”

“Faked his death?” Harry was leaning forward, unintentionally caught up in Black’s story. It was a good one, if it were true. “How?”

“Cut his finger off, escaped in the sewers.” Before Harry could ask how, Black silently changed himself down into a shaggy black dog and then back to his own human appearance, cross-legged on the dirty floor.

“We were all animagus,” Black said. “Peter was a rat. Think, Harry, think. Have you ever met a rat with a finger missing?”

“Only Ron’s…” Harry trailed off at his automatic response to think that through. Scabbers had a missing finger… and Scabbers had been acting funny all year, ever since the news of Black’s escape broke. Black never attacked Harry, even with as many chances as he had… He had went after Ron…

Not Ron… Scabbers.

“Scabbers?” Harry breathed, his eyes widening with realization. “Scabbers is an animagus?”

It sounded insane, unbelievable… But it all fit. It explained everything. And if Black was a death eater and close follower of Voldemort, would he have bothered to invent a story when he had Harry alone? Black could have killed him in much less time than telling the story had.

“Yes!” Black nodded eagerly and he seemed to relax then, his shoulders sinking down and the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “We called him Wormtail.”

Harry paused then to think about that. Wormtail… because Scabbers’ tail looked like a worm. Harry chuckled, it was a very stupid nickname.

“We were fifteen,” Black said, beaming the second he heard Harry laugh. “Cut us some slack. Your dad wanted his nickname to be - uh… actually, I don’t remember what it was…”

Harry didn’t believe him on that bit, but Remus would probably tell him if Harry asked. It wasn’t important anyway, what was important was that Sirius Black was sitting in a pub across from Harry and he was innocent.

“You’re really innocent?” Harry asked.

“I made many mistakes, but I never would have betrayed your father,” Black said solemnly. “I would have died first. James meant the world to me.”

“You’re Padfoot then,” Harry said, realizing it had to be true. Remus was Moony, Pettigrew was Wormtail. Remus said that Harry’s dad had been Prongs. And Padfoot was another not wholly creative nickname for a dog.

“Remus told you about us?” Black asked after he nodded. “I didn’t think he would…”

“I have your map,” Harry told him. “The Marauders Map, my friends gave it to me.”

“You have the map?” Black smiled again and Harry could see hints of the handsome man that had been in wedding photos of Harry’s parents. He was wasted away from years wrongfully spent in Azkaban, but Harry could see who he had once been. He had once been best friends with Harry’s dad and had mastered an incredibly complicated bit of magic for Harry’s Remus.

“Yeah, it’s brilliant,” Harry told him eagerly. “I was going to give it to my friend Ron since I’m not at Hogwarts anymore, but it - er… well, my dad helped make it…”

And Harry didn’t want to give it up. That map had pieces of Harry’s dad’s magic imbedded in it, how could Harry give it away?

“Keep it,” Black insisted. “Remus can’t expect you to never return to Hogwarts. And who knows? Maybe you can pass it on to your own kids one day.”

Harry laughed then, loudly and freely. Not only was there not a mad man trying to kill him, but he was innocent. He was Harry’s godfather, his family, and he was innocent.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said, brushing away Black - Sirius’s insistence that Harry might return to Hogwarts or have kids. Harry didn’t know the future, clearly. He had never foreseen anything that had happened so far and he couldn’t even begin to guess what life would be like in a year, two years, ten.

It was suddenly comfortable between them. Harry had a million questions he wanted to ask, Sirius looked at Harry like he was trying to memorize every eyelash he had. Harry was preparing to ask questions - though he couldn’t decide what he wanted to know first - when Sirius cleared his throat and spoke up.

“I wanted to catch Peter and clear my name,” Sirius said. “I’m still going to try, I think I can find him back at Hogwarts. If I did, if I cleared my name… well… I am your godfather…”

Harry’s smile slowly slipped away as he made sense of what Sirius was saying. He was Harry’s godfather, if he was declared innocent, he could - could…

“Remus adopted me,” Harry blurted. “He adopted me and said we’re family. He’s like - sort of like - I mean he’s a bit like my parent now, right? I can’t leave him, I won’t.”

And Sirius couldn’t make him, probably. Harry’s heart raced at the idea of being separated from Remus. Harry had been hurt by him, by the secret he kept, but Remus was the first person to truly feel like family to Harry.

Ron’s family felt like a family. Remus felt like Harry’s family. Remus made them family, legally, and he shared all of his family with Harry. Aunt Polly and Tommy, John, Ada, Arthur, Finn. Harry had met the man who raised Remus and was told firmly that he was his grandfather.

That was all thanks to Remus.

Harry’s chest tightened while the room seemed to blur around him. Harry had stormed out of Remus’s flat, been hateful to him. A cold sweat broke out when Harry thought that Sirius could go ask Remus right then if he could take Harry and Remus might say yes.

A chocked noise broke from Harry’s throat and his chest hurt so badly that Harry wondered if he was dying. It felt like it, there wasn’t enough air in the room and the vice around his lungs was only getting tighter.

“Harry?” Sirius sounded concerned and he crossed the room quickly to crouch down by Harry’s chair. His hand clamped on Harry’s shoulder and Harry tried to toss it away but he was drowning.

How could he drown on dry land? Was it a curse? Had he misjudged Sirius?

“Breathe, Harry.” Sirius sounded very far away even while Harry desperately looked to him and tried to explain that he couldn’t breathe.

There was another noise, a distant noise of a door opening. Harry turned toward it as he clawed at the collar of his coat. He had been hoping that there would be cold air flowing in the room for him, anything to help him breathe.

It was Remus and Tommy, which was almost as good as air would be. Harry’s head was spinning and he tried to reach out for Remus, to tell him that he thought he was going to die. Harry’s throat wasn’t cooperating, but it only took Remus one look at Harry to move quickly and calmly to the barstool where he sat.

“Harry, it’s Remus. Look at me.” Remus sounded calm and he knocked Sirius‘s hand away so he could place both of his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Remus ducked so his face was directly in front of Harry’s, pinning him in place with his eyes.

“I need you to breathe,” Remus ordered him. “In through your mouth, out through your nose. Can you do that?”

Harry shook his head even when he tried to do just that. Harry sucked in air and it burned, he was burning. Harry struggled to push the air through his nose, but he managed it. Remus told him to do it again and every breath he managed helped to ease the burning in his chest.

Harry closed his eyes and let Remus’s voice walk him through each inhale, exhale. After what felt like an eternity, two eternities, Harry’s body began to feel like his own again and the spinning sensation in his head lessened.

When Harry opened his eyes, there was Remus. Harry could see him clearly, the blurriness had disappeared as well.

“I don’t…” Harry’s voice was hoarse and he tried to clear it. Someone thrust a cup at Harry and Remus released his shoulder to offer it to him.

It felt wonderful, cold water to soothe away whatever had been burning him from the inside out.

“Thank you,” Harry said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Remus said evenly, smiling slightly. “A small amount of panic, I’m sure we can blame Sirius for it.”

There was a small noise and Harry looked past Remus, finally able to see what else was happening. It was Tommy who made the noise, Tommy who leaned against the bar in a nonchalant pose. There was a tightness to his posture and his expression that belied his easy stance and the way he stared back at Harry with his keen eyes almost seemed like concern.

Harry nodded uncertainly at Remus’s explanation, though he didn’t think that he had a ‘small amount of panic’. It was embarrassing though, having whatever fit he had with an audience.

“What did you say to him?” Remus asked Sirius, much more sharply than the soft tone he used with Harry. “I told you to give me time to explain.”

“I told him the truth!” Sirius exclaimed. He was on the other side of Remus, as far away from Tommy as it seemed like he could be. “He was fine! I swear it!”

“Your word means nothing,” Tommy said. Tommy spoke softly, but it was cold. Much chillier than Remus. Harry wanted to defend Sirius, he didn’t actually think Sirius had cursed him, but an argument broke out before he could.

“Oh, piss off,” Sirius snapped at him, glaring from where he leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You weren’t even here.”

“Correct. I was not here. You were. Harry was under your temporary watch and you clearly said something that sent him into a panic attack.”

“All I said was that I’m his godfather, which I am, by the way. I am his godfather. You are a thug with a gun.”

“Are you his godfather? You have been rather fucking absent in his life, hm? I’m certain it isn’t your fault though, a simple misunderstanding.”

“You know what —”

“SHUT UP!” Remus roared, startling Harry. Remus still had his hands on Harry’s shoulders and he didn’t relent as he turned to scowl at Sirius then Tommy.

“Tommy, do you have an extra room here I can rent for Sirius?” Remus asked briskly, cutting Tommy off when he seemed like he was going to argue with him. “I’ll fuckin’ pay, Tommy. If you’re charging family, I will pay.”

Tommy’s nostrils flared and he looked furious with Remus. “Take the rooms,” Tommy spat at him. He pulled a set of keys from his coat pocket, the same set they took from Mark that morning. Tommy quickly removed two keys and threw them both at Remus, bouncing them off his back one at a time.

Harry frowned. That wasn’t on. Remus was unfazed. He pulled lightly on Harry’s shoulder to get him on his feet then ducked down to pick up the keys. He tossed them both underhand to Sirius and pointed at the door.

“Around back, there’s two flats attached,” Remus told him, his hand still on Harry’s shoulder. “Go pick one, the other goes to Barty. Barty’s waiting in the alley. You won’t squabble like children or you’ll leave. Understand me?”

Sirius clenched his jaw and nodded.

With that settled, Remus began guiding Harry toward the door.

“If anyone needs us for the rest of the day, don’t,” Remus told them over his shoulder. “You’re all grown men, it’s a large enough town. I’m sure you can behave accordingly.”

Harry turned to look at Tommy and Sirius once more before he left. What he saw were two men glaring at each other, looking ready to kill.

“Did they know each other? Before?” Harry asked Remus. The sweat that still clung to Harry’s skin cooled the second they stepped outside and even if it was freezing, it made Harry feel ten times better.

“They met a few notable times,” Remus said. He was at ease for their short walk home. Home. “They’re very similar, it causes them to butt heads.”

Harry hummed and then brightened when Remus’s hand on his shoulder slid to become an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Harry told him, looking straight ahead instead of forcing himself to look at Remus’s eyes. Harry didn’t want to see any disappointment or anger, he wanted to apologize and have Remus promise that Harry wasn’t going to have to leave.

Remus offered Harry a home and a family and Harry might have taken some time to warm up to it all, but he couldn’t lose it.

“Sorry?” Harry could feel Remus looking at him while they walked. “Whatever for?”

So Harry was going to have to explain… Remus wanted Harry to say what he did wrong. That was fine, Harry could do it quickly if it meant that they could get past it.

“I - er… I was a prat, last night,” Harry said, feeling ashamed all over again for how he yelled at Remus then stormed from their flat. “You tried to say that Sirius was innocent and I didn’t want to listen.”

Remus didn’t respond immediately, which Harry didn’t think meant anything good. Harry’s stomach twisted in knots, fearing the worst. What if Remus decided to send him back to Hogwarts, to the Dursleys, to the unknown option of Sirius? Or, almost worse, what if he was angry enough to hit him? Harry shuddered at the thought.

If that was what happened then it would almost be preferable to being sent back to the Dursleys. Remus might get angry enough to strike him once, but Uncle Vernon’s rage wouldn’t compare.

“Harry,” Remus finally replied with his tone gentle and understanding. “I understand why you reacted the way you did. It was a lot to take in.”

In Harry’s imaginings of how Remus would react, that hadn’t been one of them. Which was rude of Harry, because Remus hadn’t been hateful to him even once in the time they had known each other.

“You’re not mad?” Harry asked, looking up in surprise.

Remus shook his head and smiled slightly. “No, Harry, I’m not mad. I know you’re dealing with a lot right now. I promise you, my top concern is only to protect you.”

“From… Sirius?” Harry asked uncertainly. Sirius was innocent, which meant there were no crazy people after Harry anymore.

“It’s complicated…” Remus said slowly. “I’m not worried about Sirius, or Barty for that matter. They’ve made decisions in the past and they are both capable of change.”

Harry didn’t know what Remus meant about Barty, but he didn’t particularly care just then. Harry was more interested in what - who - Remus thought Harry needed protected from.

“Who are you worried about?” Harry asked, hoping he wasn’t pushing his luck. He didn’t seem to be, Remus hadn’t so much as raised his voice at Harry. It was unfair of Harry to keep comparing Remus to other people.

“Would you be quite putout if I said that the answer is a can of worms I would rather not open just yet?” Remus asked. He looked down at Harry and smiled, looking rather tired once Harry got a good look at him.

“It’s been a long day, two days,” Remus corrected himself. “Why don’t we go home and I rest for a while. If you still need answers tonight, I will try and provide them to you.”

Harry wanted answers, he did. He wanted to know what Barty had done to change, what Remus’s history with Sirius was like. Harry wanted to know who Remus thought he was protecting Harry from and why things between Sirius and Tommy were so tense.

Beneath his own impatience, Harry could feel empathy for Remus and how weary he seemed. Remus had been going nonstop since they left Hogwarts, probably doing a hundred things that Harry knew nothing of. And most of it, if not almost all of it, had probably been done for Harry’s benefit.

“Alright,” Harry agreed reluctantly. “I can wait.”

When they arrived back at Remus’s flat, Harry saw that Remus was slower on the stairs than usual. Harry eased around him and rushed to open their door then took Remus’s arm and directed him to the sofa where Remus sat down with a sigh. The flat was quiet, Barty wasn’t there and Harry tried to not be relieved by that.

Harry was relieved though, he was relieved that Barty and Sirius and all of the questions surrounding both of them were gone and it was only Remus and Harry. Remus already closed his eyes and Harry could see his stress lessening with the momentary peacefulness.

“Remus…” Harry felt nerves in his stomach, but he wanted to say something to Remus before he fell asleep. Remus opened one eye and arched the eyebrow, apparently too tired to really talk much more. It was fine, Harry would prefer he didn’t say anything at all.

“Sirius said that I’m his godson and he wants to clear his name,” Harry said quickly, staring hard at the hole in Remus’s shirt collar as he shifted from foot to foot. “I told him - I told him that you adopted me and that we’re - you know. We’re family, the two of us. So - so if it comes down to it, I just wanted to tell you that I’d rather be with you than him. You’re - you’re like a parent, right? And I’d rather stay with you. That’s all.”

Harry nodded to himself, satisfied that he said what he wanted to say. Then, before Remus could say anything or burst Harry’s ideas of what their relationship was, Harry turned on his heel and ran to his room.

It wasn’t a huge room, it was rather cluttered with Harry’s things actually. But it was Harry’s room in Harry’s home that he shared with the closest thing he had to a parent.

And that was enough.