A Responsible Godfather

31 October 1981

Sirius

Sirius searched the safehouse top to bottom, back to front – Peter wasn’t anywhere to be found, but neither was there any sign he’d been taken by force. Even Sirius’s detection spells revealed nothing. Peter was just gone, despite having repeatedly promised to stay put and notify Sirius if he needed anything.

His mind raced as he stood frozen in the entryway, staring blankly at the wall. Could he have moved without telling me? Where would he have gone? Would he have told someone else? Who can I ask?

What should I do?

The sense of dread that threatened to consume him offered a flash of desperate inspiration: check on the Potters first.

Fighting down the blind panic that made him clumsy and racing outside, Sirius leapt astride his massive motorbike, cranked it in a rush, and took flight. Godric’s Hollow wasn’t far. In a matter of minutes, he spotted the familiar pattern of lights, though only streetlamps were still lit at this late hour. But instead of subsiding, the overwhelming sense of dread strengthened the closer he approached.

Smoke was rising over the street of Potter Cottage.

Maybe it’s a Halloween bonfire. Maybe it’s not their house. Maybe… All his frail hopes were shattered as he flew close enough to see that, not only was the smoke coming from the Potters’ house, the cottage had been blasted half to smithereens. The fact that he could see it at all without effort meant something had gone wrong with the Fidelius Charm.

James – Harry – Lily – Sirius kept trying to bury the panic, to cling to any shred of hope that the worst had not happened. He landed heavily, practically on top of the front stoop, stumbled as he dismounted, and froze. The door was hanging off its hinges. His stomach dropped through his toes. He couldn’t – or didn’t want to – process what he saw through the doorway.

A prone figure. A head of messy black hair. And no movement. No sign of breathing.

I can’t… I need to… I have to make sure. Letting his Order training take over, he stepped through the door, wand drawn, keeping his movements and breathing soft and silent. A quick homenum revelio showed only two living souls in the house. From above, there were muffled, childish cries – Harry – and strangely, the grumble of a deep, gruff voice speaking in a nevertheless comforting tone. He strained his eyes and ears for any sign of danger, but there was no sight nor sound of enemies fighting. It was over.

He knelt down to press two fingers to James’s neck, still hoping like hell for a pulse, but in vain. James’s lifeless body was already cooling. Prongs…

Choking back a sob, he stood, took a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm himself, and proceeded slowly but deliberately down the hall to the stairway. Every upward step felt disorientingly like descending deeper into a nightmare. As he neared the top of the stairs, he recognized the rumbling voice as Hagrid’s. No sense of relief came with the recognition – he was now too deep in the nightmare to feel anything but despair.

His reluctant feet carried him down the hall to the nursery. Wand still held at the ready, he scrambled to brace himself for whatever he might find. The nursery door was hanging off its hinges like the one below. Through the opening, he saw broken furniture, possibly stacked to block the door before being blasted out of the way. Hagrid was standing, hunched and shaking, among the rubble, holding a wailing Harry, trying to comfort the toddler even as tears poured down his own cheeks into his tangled beard.

Behind them – mercifully shielded from Harry’s view by the half-giant’s bulk – was another prone figure, a fan of red hair masking her face. Lily.

Sirius could barely hold himself together enough to step into the demolished room. His throat felt tight as he tried, and failed, to speak; he wasn’t even sure what he meant to say. All his thoughts felt inexpressible. Have to be strong. Have to take care of him now.

Voice choked with emotion, he finally stuttered, “H-Hag-Hagrid… L-let me have m-my… my… my g-godson.” Hagrid looked up, noticing Sirius at last, and wordlessly held out the child.

Harry had seen Sirius already and was now reaching for him, tiny fists clenching and unclenching as he bawled “Pads! Pads!” over and over and over. Sirius gathered him in his arms, brushing his fingers through the messy black hair – already so much like his father’s. A jagged cut marred the otherwise baby-smooth skin of his forehead. It was undoubtedly the mark of a curse; it descended diagonally from the corner of his hairline, spiking and branching like lightning, ending barely above his brow.

Sirius couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer. He wept into the boy’s hair, clutching him closer, gasping for air, feeling as if he’d suffocate if not for this tiny person grasping his shirt like a lifeline. They clung to each other, Sirius frantically trying to regain control, to think clearly. He needed to figure out what to do next.

Hagrid had stepped closer to rest a massive hand on Sirius’s shoulder, still sobbing quietly himself, murmuring unheard words of useless comfort. It might have taken minutes to pull himself together, or maybe it was hours, Sirius really couldn’t tell anymore. At last, he blinked blearily up at Hagrid, and whispered hoarsely, “What am I supposed to do now?” How do I go on?

“I’ve got ter t-take him teh – ter Dumbledore,” said Hagrid, voice as thick with emotion as Sirius’s had been. “He – he g-gave orders. Harry has ter – has ter go ter his aunt an’ uncle.”

Bewildered, Sirius blinked away his tears, trying to make sense of the words. "Aunt and uncle?" James had been an only child. But Lily… those Muggles?!

Memories flashed behind his eyes, one after another.
Lily, crumpling a letter in a fist, crying over her sister’s vicious words. "Freak."
Lily, years later, confessing hopelessness over salvaging that relationship, over staying in touch with her family, even her parents.
James, sneering at a rejected wedding invite, confiding to the Marauders his relief at the near-estrangement.
The still-newlywed Potters, trying to enjoy parenthood in wartime, while determinedly downplaying the response – or lack thereof – from Harry’s “aunt and uncle” to their nephew’s birth announcement.

No. “No. I’m his godfather. I will take care of him.” He ground the words out with all the force he could muster.

Hagrid straightened up. “Dumbledore gave orders,” he said stubbornly.

Sirius focused on the gamekeeper with an incredulous stare, his mouth falling open. Before he could respond, something else jumped to the forefront of his disoriented thoughts: Wormtail.

Barely two days ago, the Potters had made Pettigrew their Secret Keeper in Sirius’s place, unbeknownst to anyone but Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter himself. Sirius had been their Secret Keeper for months, but Death Eaters stalked him unceasingly. Terrified of being captured and forced to reveal the Potters’ whereabouts, Sirius had insisted on the switch.

And now, within 48 hours of recasting the Fidelius, James and Lily were dead, and Peter was missing. With no sign of a struggle.

Wormtail had betrayed them.

Wave after wave of emotion wracked Sirius.
He’d thought that Remus was the spy. Shame.
He’d trusted Peter as the safest choice. Guilt.
He’d forced the switch on the reluctant Potters. Regret.
And Wormtail had turned around and stabbed them in the back. Anger.

Rage.

He wanted revenge. He wanted to let Hagrid take Harry now, so he could go after Wormtail. He wanted to kill the traitorous little rat. He could sort out this insane idea of Dumbledore’s after Pettigrew was destroyed.

He almost did it.

But then, Remus’s voice spoke from the depths of his roiling consciousness, so clear that he might as well be standing in the nursery, speaking to Sirius out of the room's past:

“You have the makings of a good godfather, Sirius. I know you do. But you can’t let your emotions get the best of you. Remember to stop long enough to think before you act. Harry comes first, now. Be a responsible godfather for him."

Think before you act.

Harry comes first.

Sirius sucked in a desperate breath, only now realizing he’d been depriving himself of air as his thoughts raced. Hagrid was still staring at him, arms now held out expectantly, almost glaring as he waited for Sirius to hand over Harry. “No,” he repeated, but then said, “I’ll go with you. I… I need to speak to Dumbledore.” I need all the help I can get.

Hagrid hesitated, looking unsure. He opened his mouth to voice some protest, but Sirius interrupted, “We’ll take Harry to Dumbledore together. You’ll still be following his orders.”

Hagrid closed his mouth, now looking thoughtful. He nodded.

Sirius felt a flicker of relief for the first time in what felt like centuries. Had it really been this same evening when he’d stopped at Peter’s safehouse, for what should have been a routine check-in? Still clinging to Harry, and willing himself not to look at the pale body, the fan of red… he turned to face the demolished doorway. With Hagrid following behind, Sirius picked his way back through the debris.

He carried Harry down the stairs, past the other body – keeping his eyes fixed on the splintered door, making sure Harry’s face was in his shoulder – and out of the only home the boy had ever known.

Taking one look at his bike, he realised he was in no fit state to operate it. Not with Harry to worry about. “Can – can you drive, Hagrid?” he asked, trying to turn just far enough to see the gamekeeper, but not so far that the doorway entered his periphery. “I can’t – I– I have to take care of Harry.” I have to get my shit together.

With an understanding look, as though he’d heard the words unsaid, Hagrid replied, “Alright, but I don’t know how we’ll all fit. Not without someone falling off.”

This, at least, Sirius had an answer for. Shifting Harry to his hip, he freed one arm and tapped his still-drawn wand on a peculiar plate on the side of the bike. The metal shivered, shifted, and started to expand. New pieces appeared and unfolded. Leather ballooned between them. The uncertain shapes settled to form… a sidecar.

“Nice touch,” Hagrid commented as he stepped astride the gargantuan bike. It sank slightly into the ground but held his weight. It’s a good thing the bloody bike’s as big as he is, Sirius thought inanely, as he cradled Harry and settled into the sidecar. The boy’s wails had stopped at some point. He sniffed into his godfather’s shirt, looked up at him with shining green eyes – Lily’s eyes – and yanked on his beard. “Pads!”

Hagrid chuckled wetly. Sirius almost smiled. With a roar as Hagrid cranked the engine, the bike rumbled to life, rolled a few metres across the yard, and rose into the air.

Sirius didn’t look back. Remus’s voice replayed in his head. “Harry comes first, now. Be a responsible godfather…"

I’m trying.

1 November 1981

Sirius

The flight to Surrey somehow seemed both interminable and instantaneous.

Hagrid took a roundabout route, to “shake off anyone followin’.” Harry slept, woke, ate the food they stopped to get him. Sirius attempted, unsuccessfully, to heal the child's cut forehead. Hagrid explained – nearly shouting over the rushing wind – that, as a result of whatever had happened in Godric’s Hollow, You-Know-Who was gone. Defeated and disappeared without a trace.

Sirius tried to sort out his tangled thoughts and emotions, struggling to stem the stream of tears pouring down his face. It was impossible to feel any sense of victory or reprieve at the news of Voldemort's defeat. The cost had been unfathomably high, and the war seemed far from over. For him, there was neither time nor cause for celebration, not while he still needed a battle strategy.

James and Lily were gone. Peter betrayed them. Harry was Sirius’s responsibility now. Voldemort was no longer a threat. But Pettigrew was still out there.

Grief, shame, regret, and rage all battled for the position of "dominant emotion" as the wind rushed past his face, both drying and drawing out his tears. In his desperation for some semblance of rational thought, he kept wondering, What would Remus do?

He barely had the beginnings of a plan as they landed in Privet Drive, though his eyes were dry at last. The street lamps had been darkened. Dumbledore was waiting for them, with Professor McGonagall. Blue eyes pierced Sirius from behind half-moon spectacles. As far as Dumbledore knew, Sirius had been the Potters’ Secret Keeper, and was therefore the only possible suspect for betraying their location to Voldemort. This might take some explaining.

“Hagrid. Sirius. This is a bit unexpected,” said Dumbledore, his gaze never leaving Sirius as he stepped out of the sidecar with exaggerated care, so as not to wake Harry. The two professors had adopted relaxed but dignified postures, though both held their wands at their sides.

“Dumbledore. I–“ where to even begin? “I need you to trust me. I made a mistake, but I need to put it right. As much as I can… Please, will you trust me? Or at least… just give me a chance to explain, please,” Sirius begged.

McGonagall shifted from one foot to the other behind the Headmaster in an uncharacteristic show of discomfort. Dumbledore said nothing, his expression unreadable, but he inclined his head for Sirius to continue.

Taking a deep breath, he began, “I need you to know that I did not betray the Potters. Not – not directly, at least… I… I was scared. I knew Death Eaters were after me. So I asked Pettigrew to take over. I – thought he would be less of a target. I made James and Lily recast the Fidelius, with Peter as Secret Keeper instead.”

McGonagall looked shocked, and a bit confused – the latter expression being shared by Hagrid. Dumbledore’s countenance remained guarded. He didn’t appear to be blinking. “When did this happen?” he asked flatly.

“Not two days ago. I went to check on Pettigrew tonight, but he was gone. There was no sign of foul play at his safehouse.” Sirius held his godson tighter, trying to anchor himself as he forced down his rage. Harry comes first. “Pettigrew betrayed them. He was the spy, all along.”

Hagrid growled, McGonagall gasped, and both turned towards Dumbledore, who now appeared to be deep in thought. “Do you have any proof? Were there any witnesses?”

Remus… “No. I can show you the memories, but… Peter, James, Lily, and I were the only ones present.” Remus should have been there, he should have been the one, I should have trusted Moony…

Desperately trying not to break down again, Sirius continued, “I should have known not to trust that rat. I made a mistake. One I’ll likely regret for the rest of my life. But I did not tell Voldemort where James and Lily were hiding. I never would.” His voice broke at the end, and he buried his face in Harry’s untidy mop.

Dumbledore’s penetrating gaze searched Sirius like he was examining the man’s mind, heart and soul. Having had enough training in at least recognizing Legilimency – even if he'd had little luck with Occlumency – Sirius could at least appreciate the gentle touch. He made no effort to block the search, allowing the memories to float to the front of his mind.

“I swear, it’s like they’re two steps ahead of me every time, like they know where I’m going to be before I do!” Sirius was nearly shouting, pacing up and down in front of the fireplace at Potter Cottage. “What if they catch me? What if they break me? I’m a shit Occlumens, I’m no match for Voldemort, you have to pick a better Secret Keeper!” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, nails scraping his scalp roughly.

“Ok, Padfoot, calm down,” James held his hands out in a calming gesture, “Let’s just talk to Dumbledore and–“

“No!” Sirius did shout now, “There’s no telling what might happen before we get hold of him, or who might be listening when we do!” If Remus really was the spy, he wouldn’t put it past him to have a way of monitoring communications. ”We have to recast it, tonight, right now – Wormtail can take it.”

“M-me?!” squeaked Peter, looking up from his seat in the armchair, “I– I’m no better at Occlumency than you, I’m worse, even!”

“Yes, but no one’s after you! You’re perfect at flying under the radar,” said Sirius. He hadn’t really thought this through before throwing the idea out, but it sounded better every second. “No one will suspect it, we can just carry on like nothing’s changed, but if I get captured, at least your family will be safe, Prongs.” Sirius grabbed his best friend by the shoulders, “Please let me keep you all safe.”

James frowned in consideration. Lily, bouncing little Harry on her lap behind them, chimed in, “I think it’s probably the least-risk option we have, James. Sirius is right. One more layer of secrecy can only make things safer for us.”

“Exactly!” Sirius grinned. “C’mon, Prongsy old boy, you know it’s the right move.”

The headmaster released the connection, nodding again. His expression had softened. “I believe you.”

Sirius inhaled with relief, and exhaled with resignation. “Pettigrew is still out there,” the treacherous, worthless, despicable fucking rat, he didn’t add. “I wanted to go after him, but… I had to put Harry first.”

Another nod. “I will take steps to ensure he is apprehended, as soon as our business here is complete.”

Sirius nodded back. To business, then. “Hagrid seems to think that you intend to leave Harry with his Muggle relatives.” He held the child in question tighter, a clear indication that he had no intention of going along with this plan.

Hagrid huffed indignantly as Dumbledore responded, “Yes, that is my plan. Lily sacrificed herself to save Harry. With her family’s blood, I can construct protective enchantments stronger than any Fidelius. Harry’s aunt, Lily’s closest living relative–" he ignored Sirius's scoff "–lives with her husband and their own son, here in Little Whinging. There can be no safer place for him to grow up.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, and McGonagall actually looked like she was fighting the urge to do the same. “No safer place than with the aunt who called his mother a freak? Who ostracized her own sister, because she happened to be a witch? Not bloody likely.”

“I was just telling Albus, I’ve been watching these people all day, and they really are the worst sort of Muggles imaginable,” McGonnagall interjected. “Judging by their boy’s spoilt behaviour, I don’t think they’re suitable to raise the boy who vanquished You-Know-Who.”

Vanquished? Sirius noted this curious wording to ask about later. Right now, they had more important things to discuss. “James and Lily chose me to be Harry’s godfather. To take care of him, should anything happen to them. He is my responsibility. I am his legal guardian.”

Dumbledore smiled sadly. “And, as his guardian, don’t you think his safety should be the first priority? With the wards I intend to erect, Harry will be completely untouchable to any Dark wizards while he resides here. There are no stronger enchantments in existence.”

Sirius snorted. “The Fidelius charm worked perfectly well until the rat scurried off to his master. Coupled with other wards, I’m sure I can keep Harry out of reach of Voldemort’s followers,” he said, despite the fact that he wasn’t really sure at all. “And,” he continued, “perhaps just as important, out of reach of these Muggles, who would no doubt treat him like scum, just for who he is.

“Shall I tell you what it’s like,” his tone turned contemptuous, “growing up with a family that thinks you’re scum? I won’t put Harry through that. I am his family now. He’s my boy.” No way in hell is my godson having a childhood like mine.

The headmaster’s expression had faded into inscrutability again, but McGonagall was regarding Sirius with a mix of sympathy and respect. “As Harry’s legal guardian, Sirius does have the final say here, Albus,” she said quietly, shifting closer. “And, knowing Black, you’ve no hope of changing his mind.” Sirius could have sworn her lip twitched in an almost-smirk.

At this last comment, Dumbledore seemed to accept the inevitable at last. With the clipped tone of the consummate teacher, the headmaster instructed, “You will need to take Harry into hiding. In the Muggle world, under false names. The Fidelius charm is effective, but you must add as much protection as possible. I will offer whatever assistance I can. I will be your Secret Keeper if you wish.”

Sirius knew he’d made the same offer to James and Lily. Maybe, if they’d taken him up on it, they wouldn’t have… they would still be… he crushed the thought down. “Yes. I'll take all the help you can give. Thank you.”

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. “Minerva, I must go to the Ministry to explain tonight’s events and notify them of Pettigrew’s actions. Will you alert the Order, so they can search for him as well? With any luck, this will be the last time we need to call upon them.”

Sirius got the feeling that Dumbledore didn’t believe his own words in that last statement. He noted that for later, too. Minerva nodded, immediately turning on her heel and marching down the street, Disapparating mid-stride. Dumbledore faced Sirius again.

“It will take some time to prepare a place for you and Harry. Is there someplace safe for you to take him, until preparations can be made?” The twinkle in his eye said he knew exactly where Sirius would go.

Remus. “Yes.”

“Good. Go there immediately. I will find you when it is time to move. From this moment on, however, you should consider yourselves to be in hiding. Contact no one else in the Wizarding world. Harry’s safety, not to mention that of his guardians, depends on your secrecy.” Sirius noted the plural guardians as further proof that Dumbledore knew he’d be contacting one other person in their world, at least. “Go now.”

Sirius nodded and turned towards his bike. Hagrid, however, was blocking his path, eyes downcast and tearful. “Could I – could I say bye ter little Harry, first?”

Taken aback, Sirius nodded. Hagrid lowered his great, shaggy head to Harry’s, giving him what was undoubtedly a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Straightening up with a sniff, Hagrid murmured, “Lily an’ James dead, an’ poor little Harry off ter live like a Muggle – s-sorry, I c-can’t hardly stand it…” before burying his face in a handkerchief the size of a small tablecloth. Sirius gave him an awkward pat on the arm before stepping around him to the bike.

He placed Harry carefully in the sidecar, conjuring an extra blanket to keep him warm, and casting security charms to keep him from sliding or falling out. He mounted the bike, revved the engine, and turned towards Dumbledore, eyes blazing.

“Get Pettigrew for me. Don’t let him anywhere near Harry.”

Dumbledore’s eyes blazed as bright as Sirius’s. “You have my word.”

Sirius nodded with finality, faced forward, and took off into the night once more.

When he glanced down, the street was already empty, the lamps re-lit.

2 November 1981

Remus

They’re gone. James and Lily, both gone. Sirius betrayed them, and they’re gone.

Well into his fifth (Or is it sixth?) firewhiskey, Remus sat in his living room, staring at nothing, his muddled thoughts repeating the awful realization, trying to come to grips with it. His tears had long since run dry. Sirius had betrayed the Potters to Voldemort. And now Voldemort was gone, but James and Lily were dead, Harry was an orphan, and Sirius was a traitor. It’s not worth it.

A knock on the door startled him out of his drunken contemplation. Standing unsteadily, wondering who the hell would be calling this late and why, Remus went to answer it.

There stood Sirius, holding Harry. Rage washed over Remus as he brandished his wand. “What the fuck are you doing here, you – you – you traitor?! How – how dare you even touch Harry!?” His speech was still slurred, but the shock of seeing Sirius on his doorstep was sobering him rapidly. He realised he needed to get Harry away from Sirius, so he could… what? Kill Sirius?

Could he?

Sirius clutched Harry tighter to his chest as if he were using the child as a shield. You worthless coward! But then, Sirius said in a rush, “Remus, it wasn’t me! I switched with Peter. I convinced James and Lily to make him Secret Keeper, but then he turned tail and sold them to Voldemort. It wasn’t me, I swear to you – I never would – it was Wormtail.”

Peter? Not Sirius? Is he lying? Remus struggled to piece his shocked, confused, and intoxicated thoughts together, to compose himself enough to read Sirius’s expression. His grey eyes were rimmed with red like he’d been crying too. His expression held mostly sincerity, but with a shadow of… shame?

He told them he thought I was a spy.

That had to be the reason they had done this, without anyone telling Remus. Things had gotten so confused between them. They’d… fallen out… a few weeks ago, and Remus had not heard a word from Sirius since. And now, Sirius was standing on his doorstep, cradling an orphaned Harry, claiming that he was not, in fact, the reason Harry’s parents were dead.

“I’m so sorry, Remus. I thought you were… I should have known better. Should’ve known you would never betray us. Should’ve seen it was Wormtail all along. It’s so obvious now… I’m sorry, so sorry, I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, don’t know if I can forgive myself, but I need your help. Please. Help me protect Harry. Harry comes first, now, remember?”

The words kept tumbling out of Sirius like a stream he couldn't control. Remus was still pointing his wand towards Sirius, but he couldn’t curse him now, not after hearing these words he wanted so badly to believe. Again, Remus stared deep into Sirius’s eyes, still reading nothing but sincerity plus guilt. But not guilt over betraying James, Remus realised, guilt over betraying me.

His eyes flicked down to the mop of black locks, so like the boy’s father, splayed against his godfather’s chest. His eyes were tightly shut, but Remus didn’t need to look into them to see Lily. Yes, Harry comes first.

He lowered his wand. Sirius looked tentatively relieved. “Please, please help us. I know I’ve no right to ask this of you, not after turning my back on you, but I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for Harry. Please help me keep him safe.”

Still unable to speak, Remus nodded dazedly and moved aside as he held his arm out in invitation. Sirius sighed in relief and stepped inside. Remus closed the door, casting locking and warning charms on it reflexively. The firewhiskey seemed to have evaporated from him in the heat of the last few minutes.

Sirius drifted into the sitting room, taking a seat on the shabby sofa, and settling the slumbering babe into his lap. Remus hesitantly followed him, but paused before taking a seat and instead rerouted to the connected kitchen. Fuck, I need another firewhiskey. He poured two glasses reflexively. In vino veritas, after all.

The thought sparked another idea, and he plucked a tiny, clear vial from the back of the cabinet. He tucked it in his shirt pocket before gathering the whiskey and heading back to the sitting room. One tumbler went on the side table, within Sirius’s reach if he could extract his arm from under Harry before it went numb. If it hadn’t already. Remus set the half-empty bottle he’d brought along on the coffee table, and finally took a seat – and a long draught of firewhiskey – in the chair opposite.

“Tell me everything.”

Sirius, after a deep breath, launched into a rambling, halting explanation. He’d known the Death Eaters were after him, and had wanted to keep the Potters safe even if he was captured. He hadn’t trusted Remus. So, he’d convinced the Potters to recast the Fidelius, with Wormtail as Secret Keeper. Less than two days later – tonight – Peter had disappeared, and Voldemort murdered James and Lily.

It was around this point that Sirius managed to free his hand to reach for the liquor.

Sirius had wanted to go after Pettigrew, to seek revenge, but he remembered Remus’s words. “Be a responsible godfather. Harry comes first, now.” He’d gone to Dumbledore instead, persuaded the headmaster to believe Sirius’s story, and sent him – and consequently the Order, as well as the Ministry – after Pettigrew.

His glass was nearly empty. Finishing his own, Remus grabbed the bottle and topped them both up. Sirius inclined his head in gratitude as he resumed his tale.

Dumbledore had planned to leave Harry with his Muggle relatives, thinking he would be safest there (Remus snorted at this while Sirius rolled his eyes), but Sirius had convinced him to honour James’s and Lily’s wishes. To keep Harry actually safe, Sirius would have to go into hiding with him and raise him amongst Muggles. ”Dumbledore said to take Harry somewhere safe while he prepared, and… I thought of you.”

Ignoring his heart pounding, Remus willed his expression not to change as Sirius continued, “I’m sorry to impose.” You’re welcome to impose on me… “It’s just until we can move.” Oh, how we could move… “But, er, while we’re here, you – er, you can’t contact anyone else.” Like I’d want contact with anyone but you… “I’m sorry. I’m hoping it won’t be too long.” I’m hoping the opposite…

Fuck. Maybe the firewhiskey was a bad idea after all.

Finished with his speech, Sirius had hidden his face behind the whiskey glass, and then in Harry’s hair. Remus sat in silence for several minutes, staring at the bottle on the table between them. It was an odd anchor to choose, but at the moment he needed to remind himself of why he shouldn’t act on his thoughts. He forced himself to concentrate on running Sirius’s words over again.

It did make sense. He wanted desperately to believe it. Could he be counting on that? But no, Sirius wasn’t lying. Remus could always tell when Sirius lied. Still, for Harry’s sake, I have to be sure… He looked up sharply.

Sirius was watching him now, desperation in his eyes. Remus didn’t let his expression soften. “I want to believe you. And I also want to keep Harry safe. So, I’m going to have to ask you to repeat your story.” He pulled out the crystal ampoule.

Recognition, followed swiftly by resignation, was written clearly across Padfoot’s face. He leaned forward, carefully avoiding smothering his godson, and allowed his glass to be topped up with a splash of firewhiskey – and a floater of Veritaserum.

The delivery didn’t change much besides the flattened tone and affect induced by the potion. Its effects were obvious as Sirius added a few more details than he had originally, mostly about his own thoughts and actions during tonight’s events. None of it really surprised Remus, though he felt guilty about forcing vulnerability on him like this. He had to stop himself from wishing Sirius would always be this open with him.

At last, the narrative caught up once again with Sirius thinking of Remus – feeling ashamed and almost as eager to apologise as he was to protect Harry – and showing up on his doorstep. The effects of the truth serum didn’t force anything more.

Remus finally let himself relax. “All right, I believe you. I’ll help you – and Harry.” Hopefully, the deliberate emphasis would assuage some of Sirius’s fears.

Unfortunately, Sirius only looked cautiously optimistic as he acknowledged Remus’s acceptance. “Thank you, Moony.” The budget-sized dosage of Veritaserum seemed to have worn off since he was able to convey the gratitude behind the words. “I know you need time to forgive me, but… thank you for putting that aside to help keep Harry safe.”

I will always forgive you. I want to come with you. Still worried it was the alcohol talking, Remus didn’t let the words form on his lips. Their eyes were locked together, and it was turning into a staring contest like Sirius knew Remus was holding back from saying something. Which he probably did, since he also knew Remus would usually crack under a stare-down. Better say something, then.

“You said you sent Dumbledore after Peter.” His brows furrowed, wondering why that particular thought had run ahead of the rest of him and out his mouth.

Sullen resentment replaced Sirius’s anxious stare. “Yes. When we left, he was going to tell the Ministry, and McGonagall had already gone to alert the Order. He gave me his word that Pettigrew would be caught.” Sirius spat Peter’s surname like a malediction.

He wants Peter dead. Remus tried to imagine how it might feel to want a fellow Marauder dead. When he’d heard Sirius had sold the Potters to You-Know-Who, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Then he’d worked his way through half a bottle of firewhiskey trying, and failing, to come up with an alternate explanation. He’d almost reached acceptance when the man in question showed up with their best friend’s orphan.

Now that he knew Wormtail had been the betrayer, he was reminded that the Order had suspected an “intel leak” long before tonight. At no point this evening had he even thought that Sirius’s betrayal could have extended to all the failed missions – and resulting casualties – that preceded the murders of Prongs and Lily. It had probably been a subconscious effort to repress the idea of Padfoot being the spy.

It wasn’t as hard to imagine Wormtail sneaking around selling secrets. He’d always been drawn to gossip, taking pride in his eavesdropping skills – especially after becoming an Animagus – and delivering the latest news with glee to the other Marauders. They’d always been well informed, and it had seemed innocently mischievous; except when it hadn’t. Which happened more and more, until the gossip reports stopped. Because they hadn’t wanted to hear it anymore.

All in all, it wasn’t terribly difficult to contemplate Pettigrew’s death being a desirable outcome.

He forced himself to compartmentalise these contemplations. The important thing at this moment was to take care of Harry. Keep him safe, and away from Pettigrew. “Let’s put Harry to bed. We need to put wards around the house,” said Remus, reaching for Harry. Reluctantly, Sirius stood and placed the snoozling child in Remus’s arms.

Harry’s warmth and weight were a welcome comfort, like a piece of James and Lily in his arms. Cradling the toddler close, he ran his fingers through hair like tangled silk, but then he spotted the cut. “What the fuck is this?”

“It was there when I found him. I think… it’s from a curse. I couldn’t heal it.” Sirius looked bitter.

Remus let that go for the moment, moving towards the tiny guest room, where there was already a cot waiting for Harry. The Marauders had all made a place for Prongs’s son, even though the Potters had been in hiding since well before his birth. Careful not to wake him, Remus laid the child down, pulled a soft blanket over him, and as an afterthought, plucked a plush dragon from a shelf and placed it next to Harry.

Sirius stepped aside as Remus walked back into the hall and closed the door softly, placing locking and warning charms on it as well. He added a charm to alert them if Harry woke or made any sound.

Moving as a unit, not needing to speak, the two of them went outside and began circling the property, placing wards. “Protego maxima. Salvio hexia. Fianto duri. Repello inimicum. Repello muggletum.” They chanted the protections together, each adding their own enchantments to the list. Every spell rippled out in a thin, glistening layer, colours blending and fusing together before fading to transparency.

With practised, measured steps, they kept pace with each other around the perimeter, crossing past each other – almost exactly halfway around – in a rehearsed dance. They worked quickly, surrounding the cottage with every safeguard they could conjure in a matter of minutes. If any Death Eaters came seeking revenge, they would have a hard time finding the place, let alone entering it, and the occupants would have ample warning.

When they came back together after completing the circuit, they stood side-by-side, staring at the street instead of going back into the house.

"They're gone." James and Lily. Remus's voice was thick with emotion, choking on the words. He'd thought he had no tears left, but they pricked his eyes nonetheless.

Sirius took a rattling breath at his side, clearly overcome with sorrow as well. "Harry – Harry comes first, now," he repeated Remus's words, like a mantra.

Turning to him at last, Remus stepped closer, placing his hand on his best friend's shoulder. Sirius was hunched over, gasping, sobbing, tears pouring down his face. Remus suspected he hadn't let himself break down yet, the way Remus had done hours ago – a lifetime ago. "Pads…"

Something snapped in Sirius, and he leaned into the hand on his shoulder, turning towards Remus, and collapsing into his arms. Remus felt as though he would fall to pieces all over again himself, if not for the need to comfort the man weeping into his chest. Tears poured down his face once more, falling into Sirius's dishevelled hair.

They held each other for a long time, standing under the stars, letting the sorrow wash over them. The sky was just beginning to lighten to the east, by the time Sirius's sobs slowed, his breathing finally returning to normal. His fingers unclenched from Remus's robes but still rested on his chest. Remus had been clutching tight to him as well, but now his fingers began tracing a soothing path, up and down his spine.

"Let's go back in. We both need rest," he whispered into Sirius's hair, breathing deeply. He smelled like home. He's always smelled like home.

Sirius nodded against his chest, stepping away but capturing his hand as it fell. Hand-in-hand, they went back into the house. "I'll sleep in Harry's room. I… would you… can you stay with us? I– I don't want to be alone." He seemed unable to look at Remus, terrified of rejection. He still thinks I hate him.

Giving Sirius's hand a comforting squeeze, Remus said, "Of course. Neither do I." Sirius looked up at last, relief and gratitude radiating from him. Together, they reentered the guest room, standing over Harry for a moment before getting into bed.

Knowing he had to make the first move, Remus slid his arm under Sirius's shoulders, pulling him close. His hand resumed the comforting strokes, up and down Sirius's spine. Eventually, his friend's breathing slowed, deepened, and evened into the rhythm of sleep. Remus stared at the ceiling, still replaying the evening in his head.

James and Lily were gone. Peter betrayed them. Dumbledore was after Peter. Voldemort was gone too. Sirius was here, and Harry. The two of them (maybe the three of us?) would go into hiding, for Harry’s protection.

Harry comes first, now. Remus pressed his lips into Sirius’s hair. He closed his eyes at last and waited for sleep to take him.