A Responsible Godfather

25 December 1981

Remus

Sirius’s family stayed with them through Yule, Christmas Eve, and Christmas morning. It was a true family vacation for them all, with everything from windy walks on the frosted beach, to candles and tears in remembrance of loved ones lost. Harry had stroked the photographs of his Mum and Dad softly, picking up on the mournful atmosphere that night.

It was remarkable, watching such a young child process loss. Harry had his share of tantrums and sullen silences, but he also found joy in the family he had left. He allowed them to comfort and distract him and gradually accepted his parents’ disappearance and replacement in his life. Their child fed off their emotions, offering his own comfort when they needed it most.

His innate capacity for unconditional love was boundless. Harry made friends as easily as breathing. His warm smiles and green eyes drew people in, children and adults, wherever he went. People adored him.

Early on Christmas morning, he tore open everyone’s gifts on the floor with Dora, burrowing into the wrappings and tossing them into the air. The adults snagged their opened gifts out of the path of destruction, thanking each other over the peals of laughter. Harry chanted “Tank ‘oo” and “Y’wekom” and tried to give everything he’d received away to them.

Ted gave them a beautiful leatherbound photo album, partially filled with pictures he’d taken and/or printed of Harry, Lily, James, Sirius, Remus… their whole family, since Harry’s birth, with many blank pages waiting to be crammed with years more of family and friends and memories.

They ate fresh-baked iced buns and sipped tea and coffee in socked feet and pyjamas. Remus opened one of his new books, a first edition of a text he’d failed to find after weeks of searching, given to him by a smirking Andi. Sirius laid his head in his lap, dozing.

He skimmed the priceless volume on the principles of bond formation, flagging a few chapters for a closer read. One chapter in particular was why he’d sought the book in the first place. It was the only reference he’d found with a detailed account of werewolf bonds.

Ted and Remus prepared a large Christmas luncheon together, which the family shared around the dining table, pulling crackers and laughing at the jokes and their colourful paper hats. The Tonkses sadly had to return home around noon, with many hugs and promises to call and write exchanged as they said farewell.

Harry, thankfully, went right down for a nap with few tears. Remus and Sirius collapsed into their bed next door.

“I’m grateful for the company, but it’s nice to have the house to ourselves again,” Sirius said to the ceiling.

Remus gathered him in his arms, nuzzling his partner’s hair. “I know what you mean. As much as I appreciate her Healing, I’m sort of glad it will just be Andi for the January moon.” It was a plan they had decided upon to help establish a sustainable pattern of visitation.

Andi would take the next few moons, with or without Dora, to establish a baseline for her case study. She’d then alternate with Ted and Minerva, both of whom had basic training in healing spells from the war. Andi would always be “on call” for complications with the potion or serious injuries, but otherwise, Remus would be treated to a neverending parade of sitters.

If it weren’t for the fact that Padfoot’s presence still helped him, he’d resent the need for additional assistance with the moons. However, it was also helpful to Harry to form connections with other adults and children. They’d hopefully have opportunities in future to send him away for the full moon, once he was a bit older.

Their status as virtual fugitives from the Wixen World meant they had to find ways for Harry to make friends with Muggle children. It would be easier once he entered primary school, but in the meantime, they’d need to find age-appropriate activities and make acquaintances.

This was more Sirius’s skillset than Remus’s. His partner was a “social butterfly”, with charm and wit that drew people in almost as much as Harry did. He might feign discomfort with the attention in Remus’s presence, but Sirius lived for the approval of others. Padfoot could make and break friendships quicker than you could blink.

Remus was more than happy to let him spoil Harry with his “life of leisure” while he, in turn, sought other worthwhile ways to occupy his time. His application for part-time librarian had been submitted on Yule, so he was crossing his fingers to get a call about an interview after Boxing Day.

After their nap – Sirius slept, Remus dozed and ruminated – Remus prepared a modest Christmas tea while Sirius fetched his godson. He chatted with Harry about his presents, Sirius watching them in confusion.

Understanding Harry’s toddler-speak was just a matter of forgetting all your expectations of what English should sound like. Random-sounding syllables were actually words and thoughts, connected by imitations of grown-up-speak.

He said “bok” and “bol” and “tank ‘oo, y’wekom, yum” and Remus put together a story about their morning.

“Yes, you got new books and toys and a ball, and you told everyone ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome’ and shared your lovely gifts with us all,” he smiled. “We had yummy buns and laughed together as a family.” It had been the best Christmas Remus could remember having since before James’s parents passed.

The few Christmases the Marauders had shared with Mr and Mrs Potter had been formative memories for Remus. He’d lit a candle for the couple, mourning the fact that they’d never get to meet their grandson. Some people are born to be parents; Fleamont and Euphemia were of those few. They were also born to be grandparents. Too bad they died before they got the chance.

25 December 1977

Sirius

“I meant to knit you all caps and scarves to choose from!” Lily wailed. “But then they all kept turning out like this!” She held up two examples of her work: a misshapen lump that might have been intended as a felted hat, and a straggly, wavy, unevenly thick and thin scarf. Then she held up a stack of envelopes, “So I made these instead.”

The now-future Mrs Potter handed out custom-made and -Charmed cards with shop-bought gifts enclosed to all present. She’d even included the Tonks family, down to little Dora, who were all visiting Sirius and his found family for the Andi-Siri Black Sheep Reunion ‘77.

They made a habit of making time for each other without developing a pattern as the Wizarding War dragged on. The Marauders and Lily were nearing their last Hogwarts Leaving Feast; for all they knew, this could be their last Potter Christmas. Even Peter would be making an appearance later, after spending Christmas  Morning (and early afternoon) with his family and their visitors, as was his habit.

Lily set Wormtail’s card aside, but everyone else opened theirs. The room was filled with bubbles, confetti, streamers, glitter, and colourful smokes that burst out of the cards and dissipated without leaving a mess. Also filling the room were laughter, Christmas carols, conversations, and a general feeling of happiness and peace that was so sorely lacking these days otherwise.

“Oh, thank you, Lily,” Effie said graciously, admiring the set of enchanted, arthritis-friendly knitting needles that had been inside her envelope. Monty laughed and thanked her as well when he pulled out his own Silver Years Shaver, to help him trim his beard when his hands shook. They were getting on in years, but had the poise and dignity to accept their decline with grace.

Sirius hoped they'd be around for a long, long time yet, but it wasn't looking good. The couple who had all but adopted him were ageing poorly, putting too much of themselves into the Order. The Marauders all knew that at least part of the reason Lily had accepted James’s proposal so readily was because the couple very much wanted both Potter parents to be present for the wedding.

His thoughts were so morbid he could barely appreciate the set of Muggle motorbike magazines which Lily had given him. He thanked her, then excused himself to the loo, where he sat on the closed toilet with his head in his hands. This bloody fucking war… Fuck. It's Christmas. Why can't I just be happy?

Someone knocked on the door. “Bit busy,” called Sirius.

“No you're not,” said Remus's voice through the door. “I know you're not doing any sort of business in there, and you know I know, so why don't you open the door?”

“It's unlocked,” he sighed, leaning back against the toilet tank.

Remus came in and sat on the edge of the tub next to him. “The war?” he asked simply.

Sirius nodded, “Effie and Monty. They do too much. Lily's gifts just got me thinking about how many more Potter Christmases we'll get with those two.” Remus hummed in agreement. “Effie should get to use those knitting needles to make shit for her grandkids, y'know? And I'm not so sure she will.”

He buried his face in his hands again, while Remus placed one of his hands on Sirius's shoulder. “She might yet,” he said optimistically. “Anyway, it's no use moping here about it. You're worried you don't have much time left with them, so you're hiding from them? Very logical, well done.”

That got Sirius to chuckle and look up. “Shut up, Moony,” he said with a playful shove. “Alright then, you've convinced me. Let's get back to it.”

29 December 1981

Remus

“I’ll be honest with you, Mr Wulf, I’d prefer to hire you full-time than part-time.”

Remus struggled not to drop his jaw in shock at the head librarian’s proclamation. He thought the interview had been going well, but hadn’t realised it’d been going that well.

“We’ve had some people move on this Winter, it happens around here,” Mrs West continued. “I’ve got more than one full-time position to fill, and we don’t often see people with your credentials applying for Council jobs. I could easily see you taking my place when I retire, young man.”

Remus felt the vision of the future die before it was born. “I… I’ll be completely transparent with you, I have a– a medical condition,” he stammered. “I’ve had it since childhood. It… it will cause me to be absent, possibly for three or four days at a time, every– every month.”

Mrs West hummed and gave him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t see any reason we can’t accommodate that, Mr Wulf. The library is open seven days a week, so it’s easy to maintain a full-time schedule even with periodic absences. We have working mothers with similar needs.”

This job really was a dream come true. Speaking of working mothers… “I have a… ward, I suppose you could say, my housemate’s nephew, who may be left in my care sometimes. He’s seventeen months,” Remus smiled (rounding up), pulling out a photo. She’d already showed him the pictures of her children and grandchildren on her desk.

“Oooh, what’s his name?” the librarian cooed, taking the family portrait of Remus, Sirius, and Harry at the beach last week. Ted’s “professional amateur” printing potions ensured it wouldn’t move except in the eyes of of-age Wixen.

“Harry,” Remus answered proudly.

“Little Harry is welcome to join us anytime, Remy,” Mrs West said. “He can call me Aggie, everyone does.”

Remus smiled. “Thank you, Aggie.” He replaced the photo in his billfold. Her middle son was prominently displayed hand-in-hand with his partner in a rainbow-hued frame on her desk, right alongside her children with “traditional marriages.” This woman clearly had no problem with two “bachelors” raising a kid together.

The Wixen world was generally more accepting of same-sex relationships than the Muggle one. The most hypocritical of the pureblood elite were decidedly less so. Far be it for them to acknowledge that generations of in-breeding, coupled with lost lineages, not to mention forcibly disowned renegades "sullying their line," might not add up to the ideal circumstances for bountiful progeny.

No, they blamed it on "disgraceful proclivities" and "heinous acts." They encouraged their queer children to keep their preferences private at best, and disinherited those children at worst. Nothing was more important than “providing an heir to the line.”

Sirius had chafed against his parents’ queerphobia, and rebelled by snogging and shagging his way through half of Hogwarts during his teens. He’d dressed in leather mini-skirts and fishnets, and worn nail varnish and eyeliner and crop tops. Remus sort of missed those days.

Whistling as he returned home to share his news, Remus took a short detour to pick up a curry from the Indian takeaway. It was the one dish he could never get quite right, so he appreciated the proximity of a fix for his authentic curry addiction.

Harry basked in the joy of his guardians as they celebrated Remus’s new dream job with curry and wine. Sirius toasted the “future head librarian” with a fond expression that honestly didn’t suit his aristocratic features. Their son went down early so they could have their private celebration, bathing in each other’s glow.

<SMUT WARNING BEGINS>

The tiny en-suite attached to their master was not their preferred bathroom. That was where they used the facilities and bathed Harry.

Their preferred bathroom was the one next to the master suite. The one with the enormous claw-foot tub. The claw-foot tub with dimensions plenty accommodating enough for a 21-year-old werewolf to shag his 22-year-old biker boyfriend senseless.

Sirius bounced on his cock, water sloshing over the sides of the tub, suds glistening on his chest. Remus lapped at his nipples, tasting soap and sweat and something distinctly Sirius as the man panted and moaned above him.

He gripped his hips, tight enough to bruise, pounding up into him, just how he liked it. In the privacy of this room, they could make as much noise and mess as they pleased, as long as they weren’t interrupted by Harry’s Monitoring Charms.

Sirius keened at the ceiling as Remus sucked love bites into his sternum, jerking his cock with one fist in a punishing grip under the water. His stamina during the waxing crescent was nearly at its peak, enough that Sirius’s spend had already washed away around them once, and Remus was still nowhere close to finishing.

He rolled his lover’s bollocks gently as he drove up into his prostate relentlessly, forcing him closer to the edge without touching his length. A scream – and Sirius’s tightening and fluttering channel ripped Remus’s orgasm from him without warning.

He grunted, pulsed, and emptied himself with rolling hips as Sirius followed him down, sinking back into the cooling bathwater, which oscillated around them in gentle waves. Remus laid his head on the lip of the clawfoot tub, sweat dripping down his brow, his cock slipping from Sirius as he rested his head on his chest.

“Fuck,” Sirius panted into his shoulder.

Remus chuckled, his lover shaking with the movement. “Yes, I did,” he agreed. He’d fucked him senseless as planned.

They cleaned up the water and returned to their room in dressing gowns. Sirius regained his senses enough to repay the favour by stroking, sucking, and finally pounding Remus into a second, wailing orgasm against the headboard two hours later.

<SMUT WARNING ENDS>

14 February 1982

Sirius

New Year’s Eve had been celebrated in the back garden with a bonfire and a view of fireworks above the barren treetops. Harry’d watched the colourful light show in wonder, with not a hint of fear at the loud sounds. He’d grown accustomed to such noises, growing up around magic so far. Sirius couldn’t wait until he was old enough to know about it again.

Minnie had joined them as midnight approached, Harry already fast asleep in his cot upstairs. The fire burned low as they sipped tumblers of a single-malt scotch from her private collection. She’d met Harry a few times, but seemed to prefer arriving for a nightcap when he was already asleep.

They rang in the New Year with a chaste kiss that Minerva politely ignored.

Andi joined them for the weekend of the first full moon in 1982, and left with her scrolls and notes and a selection of books from Remus’s growing library. They’d started up a sort of monthly book exchange now, finding and sharing obscure texts with each other freely.

It seemed to alleviate Remus’s anxiety over accepting help. Andi was benefitting from the arrangement, in more ways than one. She hoped to expand her research to patients in the Dai Llewellyn Ward and achieve her Mastery with the help of Moony’s case study.

A Mastery in Healing was no easy feat, more difficult to achieve than a Potions Mastery or even a Runes Specialist qualification. It was perhaps the most academically rigorous professional credential available in the Wixen World. If making Remus’s life easier helped her attain it, he seemed happy to oblige.

She returned for one night for February’s moon, having to work around her shifts at St Mungo’s. They were giving her difficulties with her transfer application, “claiming someone else was more qualified,” Andi scoffed.

They repainted a few of the rooms, adding cool greens and blues and greys to accent the warm cream and brown theme. The soothing colour scheme called the sea to mind, waves and driftwood and sandy beaches.

By Valentine’s Day, Remus was visibly healthier than ever. He’d gained weight as muscle tone, looking more and more like a bodybuilder every week. Their frequent strolls around town, and his walks to and from the Library five days a week, had him looking trim and fit and delectable.

Sirius decided they should celebrate his shaggable appearance by going to a “gay bar” in town for the evening while Remus’s boss, Aggie, watched Harry. It was a whole new world for them both, with the blinding rainbow of lights and the pounding beat of music.

They danced close, hands on one another’s hips. Neither gave a damn about any of the many other men whose eyes followed them. They only had eyes for each other. Jealous looks met them when they exited the loo, both looking freshly shagged.

He revelled in Remus’s attention, in the envy surrounding them, in the fact that this wildly attractive man was his, and everybody there knew it. He’d left marks to prove it. Nobody judged them, no one ridiculed them - everyone just wanted to be them.

They went home, relieved Aggie of her duties with smiles and hugs and thank-you’s, and shagged some more in their bed.

10 March 1982

Remus

It was on the morning after the third full of the year, his fourth on Wolfsbane, on his birthday, that Andi dropped her bombshell, of course.

“I think the two of you have formed a Mate Bond, or at the very least a Pack Bond,” she stated clinically over lunch. “A natural consequence of running and hunting together in canine form for so many years. It seems to be assisting in Remus’s healing each month.”

What a fucking birthday present, he thought bitterly. This explained Andi’s generous Christmas gift. The only text seemingly in existence with a detailed description of those two bonds.

Remus recalled all of this rapidly while Andi gave her cousin the basic version. Simply put: Sirius was now bound to him for life, their magical cores connected forever unless one of them “drew blood” from the other. A Pack Bond was less serious, but if it was a Mate Bond… that was practically marriage.

There was no real way to tell, unfortunately. With no other living members in their Pack, Moony and Padfoot had no way of knowing whether the bond they shared now was different from the ones they’d shared with Wormtail and Prongs.

Sirius was, predictably, delighted to hear that he was now bound to a monster for eternity. Fate was cruel.

13 March 1982

Sirius

Remus, predictably, ran away to Lupin Cottage, with a trunk full of clothes and books, the weekend after Andi’s “bond revelation.” Sirius woke early on Saturday to a cold bed and a letter on the nightstand. He sighed, stretched, rubbed his eyes, flicked the lights on with his wand, and read.

Sirius sighed again, ran his hands through his hair and over his face, and went into Remus’s office to make a call.

“Hey, Ted. Sorry, yeah, I know it’s early – could you put Andi on? Yeah, yeah, I know, but it’s important. Yeah, it’s about Remus. Thanks.

“Hey, Andi– no, no Andi, you don’t have to shout. Yes, it’s Siri. I know. Just talk at a normal volume, like I'm in the room. Yeah, it’s about Remus. Yeah. He’s at Lupin Cottage. Yep. Of course it’s about the bloody bond, you dropped that on him out of nowhere. I know, I’ve been telling him that all week. That too. And that. Yes. Yes. Yes, Andi. Ok. Yes, please. No, I doubt he’s had the presence of mind to change the wards yet. No. Yes. Please do. Yes. Thank you. Ok. Yes, I’ll look for your Patronus. Yes. Thank you. Love you too, cuz.”

Andi’s got this, he thought as he hung up the receiver.

***

I do not have this, Sirius thought to himself, trying to bathe a fingerpaint-covered Harry – without magic – hours later. This was always fun with Remus there, but with Harry screaming bloody murder for “Rem,” as he had been all day, bathtime was turning into bath-flood.

He was immensely grateful for Ted and Dora’s arrival shortly thereafter. Dora kept Harry distracted successfully, which Sirius had been unable to do since Remus left. Ted provided a much-needed sympathetic ear.

“Remus makes everything easier,” he said into his glass of firewhiskey. Ted was drinking tea as the “designated parent” for the evening. “I couldn’t do any of this without him, or your family. He doesn’t realise how thrilled I am to be bonded to him. He just sees it as me being stuck with a ‘monster’ forever. As if that ‘monster’ wasn’t also the most kind and caring person I’ve met, barring Lily, not to mention the most fit bloke I’ve ever shagged.”

There was a Silencing Charm between them and the kids. He could drink and speak his mind. “He’s going to take days to come back, weeks maybe, and meanwhile poor Harry’s going to be thinking another parent abandoned him. That’s the real monster move, y’know, putting his kid through that. Harry’s as much Remus’s as he is mine, has been since the first night, since he was born even.

“And that’s the beauty of the bond, y’know? We’re mates, we’re Pack, and Harry’s our cub. It’s already real, but being bonded just makes it more real. That’s beautiful. And it’s not forced. I read that book, it’s something that’s formed gradually and mutually. Remus called it Fate, but it isn’t. We chose it. He’s supposed to choose me, always.

“He’ll come back, and I’ll take him back, like I always will, but we’re going to have a serious fucking conversation. Lots of them. He can’t keep running off every time his lycanthropy causes trouble. That’s the way to turn his furry little problem into a real deal-breaker.”

Ted let him rant and drink his way through half the bottle, stopping him only to feed the kids and put them to bed. He nodded along with quiet hums and reassurances of “Andi will set him straight,” and “He’ll be back before you know it, you’ll see.”

The real highlight of the evening was Ted handing him the business card of a local psychologist, on which Sirius’s Wixen eyes could read the charmed designation “Squib.”

“His clients are typically fellow Squibs, or Muggle relatives of Muggle-born Wixen, but he does see Wixen too, and children, couples, families…” Ted explained. “You should give him a call - ask about confidentiality agreements. I know he has a contract with a firm in Aerop Lane to charm them.”

Sirius took the recommendation gratefully, sending a copy of the card to Remus’s desk upstairs. He’d have to ask Dumbledore whether allowing a therapist in on the Secret would be a safe enough move.