How it Could Have Gone

Remus took a long drag from the cigarette in his hand, sitting on the windowsill of his small flat in London, when there was a knock on the door. Remus paused. He didn’t get many visitors anymore. He hadn’t for a while. Andromeda was the only one who’d stuck around, and even she saw him once a month at best. Still, he wasn’t tensed up like he might have been a year ago. He didn’t worry, didn’t panic. He didn’t do much of anything anymore, really. Not since that night.

Not since Lily and James Potter died.

He used to have a lot of visitors, right after that. People came in waves, trying to comfort, to show Remus the light. The problem was he didn’t want to see it. Mary had been a frequent visitor, as was Molly, Andromeda, Pandora, and hell, even Moody stopped by occasionally, though Remus wasn’t sure he’d label that as a good thing.

After a while, though, people started to forget Remus. They wanted to move on, to forget that fateful night and everything that followed, but Remus, Remus who clung to it, who dug his nails into it and refused to let go, couldn’t help but remember. Remember when his whole life came crashing down. When he lost his best friends, and his…. And Sirius. And because of that, because Remus never reached out, never met up with anyone, never tried to keep in contact, when people started to forget the Potters and the Blacks and the Pettigrews, they started to forget him too.  

Remus told himself he preferred it that way, and on some days he managed to believe it.

Remus stared at the door, considering just leaving it and going back to his cigarette, when whoever was on the other side of it knocked again. Still, Remus didn’t move, staring at the door with distant curiosity. He didn’t really want to get up and open the door, talk to someone, but he still wondered who was waiting out there for him. Probably someone who got the wrong door.

When the mysterious person knocked again, Remus heaved a sigh and left his window sill, snuffing his cigarette out in the ashtray beside it. He could have done it with magic, but Remus didn’t use much of that anymore. He found there was no need, now that he wasn’t fighting for his life in a war. Or maybe he didn’t like the memories that accompanied it, that stuck to it like glue, wrapping itself around Remus’s magic and forcing him to remember whenever he used it. Remember him. And that was the one thing Remus refused to remember.

Dragging his body over to the door, Remus prepared himself for a quick social interaction, probably with someone who’d got the wrong flat like he’d suspected. He opened the door to find that it was not, in fact, someone who’d gotten the wrong flat but instead Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and former leader of the Order.

Remus tried to smother the burning hatred and rage that threatened to surface at the sight of the old man, no matter how relieving it was to feel something, even if it was anger so powerful it left ash in his mouth. Remus struggled with the sudden emotion, putting a lid on it like he did anything else that made him feel, keeping it hidden from the Headmaster and himself. Instead he replaced the feeling with shock and blinked up at his former headmaster in surprise.

Dumbledore had never visited him after that night. Remus had tried to see him though. Demanding a meeting, sending letters, telling everyone he could, begging everyone he could, to get him some time with Dumbledore. He’d believed Dumbledore would have been able to do something about that night, give Sirius a trial at least. When he’d finally managed to get a meeting with him, Dumbledore had shut Remus down, claiming he wasn’t in a position to give him that, but they both knew that was a lie.

The anger Remus had felt after that meeting resurfaced and he fought to keep his face indifferent, to keep himself from lunging at Albus and making him feel even a fraction of the pain that coursed through Remus’s veins, that pumped his heart, that curled in his head waiting to pounce and trap him in his own grief.

“Remus, what a pleasure to see you again,” Dumbledore greeted, bowing his head slightly, oblivious to Remus’s internal battle. Or maybe he knew and just didn’t care. Either option was possible.

“Albus,” Remus said through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath, pushing the anger away. He did it with every other feeling, so this should leave quickly too, right? “Er- why are you here?”

Dumbledore chuckled, the hairs on Remus’s arms rising as the anger crawled up his throat, begging to be let out. Remus cleared it, looking away. “Well, I have a favour to ask you, actually.”

Remus’s head snapped to Dumbledore, a harsh laugh tumbling from his lips. “A favour? You want to ask me a favour?”

He was remembering all too well the time Remus asked him for a favour, and his answer that crushed Remus, that ripped away the hesitant hope that had bloomed inside him, replacing it with a numbness that took over his whole body and left him as a hollow shell of who he once was.

And Albus had the nerve to ask him for a favour. Well, he already knew what he’d say. I’m not in a position to give you that, sorry. Throwing his words back at him, hoping it ruined his plans and left him with a feeling of hopelessness similar to the one that suffocated Remus after Dumbledore refused him.

The old man sighed, like he’d expected this but wished he could have avoided it. Like Remus was a toddler throwing a tantrum. It was clear he saw right through Remus’s blank facade. That he knew what Remus was planning to say to him and thought it immature. Well he could go fuck himself because Remus wasn’t doing shit for that man. Never again would he listen to orders and do what he asked like a mindless slave.

“It’s about Harry.”

That made Remus pause. It slowed the cogs of Remus’s revenge, snatched away the satisfaction of his refusal, and dimmed the fiery rage inside him.

Harry. Baby Harry. Remus hadn’t thought of him in a while. Hadn’t thought of him at all if he was being honest. He’d been too wrapped up in his own grief and loss to even consider the boy, and when someone informed him he’d been given to his aunt and uncle Remus had pushed him out of his mind, no longer a problem for him to think about.

Now, the boy pushed through Remus’s barriers and shields in his mind, and the werewolf was shown the image of a baby boy. He had pitch black hair, already messy even at one year old. Emerald green eyes that Remus knew better than the back of his hand were wide, full of joy as the baby smiled, letting out a squeal and making grabby hands with his chubby fingers. Red blooms on his cheeks where his mother had kissed him countless times. Where his father, and godfather, and Remus himself had kissed him, making sure Harry knew that he was the most loved boy in the whole world. That he was special and always had a place to be and was loved. He was so loved by everyone who met him, everyone who laid eyes on the angel of a baby, filled with so much joy it was contagious.

Remus nearly stumbled back a step because of the memory. It had been so vivid. Harry had been so vivid. So alive. And Dumbledore had a favour to ask involving him. 

Remus still wanted to say no, to not hear Dumbledore out and send him away, but that was overpowered by the need to know what was going on. To know that Harry was okay. To keep his promise to Lily that he would look after Harry if anything happened to them. Sure, Remus had done a pretty shit job so far, but Harry was safe, and that was important. Except from Albus’s grave expression Remus wasn’t so sure, which made him need to know what was going on even more.

Reluctantly, Remus opened his door more. “Come in then.”

Dumbledore smiled, walking into his flat like he’d been there countless times before, when in fact he’d only seen their apartment through the floo. Remus shut the door and followed after him, suddenly aware of the mess his flat was. Dirty dishes piled up next to the sink, clothes discarded on the floor and the couch, empty wrappers and take out cartons scattered across every surface possible. 

Remus swallowed, looking at his feet. He knew he wasn’t doing too good, but with another person in here he was aware of what a slob he’d become. Of how he was living and how he wasn’t living. This wasn’t a life. This wasn’t a home of someone who had a life. This hadn’t been a home since one of its two occupants left and never came back.

Albus, thankfully, pretended his house wasn’t a mess and sat down in an armchair, waiting for Remus to follow suit. He did so hesitantly, absentmindedly tugging on his sweater as he waited for Dumbledore to speak.

“As you know, Harry has been living with his Aunt and Uncle,” Dumbledore started. At Remus’s nod he continued. “It has been brought to my attention that he was not getting the proper… treatment he needed.”

Remus frowned. “What do you mean?”

Albus let out a sigh, intertwining his fingers and laying them in his lap. “His Aunt and Uncle have been abusing him, and their household is no longer appropriate for him to stay in.”

Remus felt sick. His vision swam. He couldn’t- he couldn't process what Albus said. Harry, abused? Harry who his mother loved so much? Who his father attempted to learn knitting without magic just so Harry could have a homemade sweater that fit him? Harry, who if that night hadn’t happened, would be zooming around on the child broomstick he and Sirius had gotten for him, with his father cheering after him and Sirius pretending to chase him? Harry, who if everything had gone right, would be loved and cared for and would never know sadness or pain or grief.

Harry, who was being abused.

Remus was thrown back to Sirius. Sirius, who was abused, and James who put his whole heart into giving him a better home. What would he think now, that after all that effort to get his best friend out of an abusive home, his son was trapped in one? The irony of it scraped against Remus’s heart, cutting at it, because this wasn’t what Harry was supposed to have. This wasn’t what Lily and James wanted him to have.

This wasn’t what Remus wanted him to have.

And as he stared at Dumbledore, it dawned on him why he was here. Why he was telling Remus this and what he wanted from him. The idea was ludicrous, and Remus could only beg whatever deities existed that he was wrong, that Albus didn’t possibly want him to look after Harry.

“Why are you here?” Remus eventually asked, voice rough.

Albus sighed, looking at Remus in the eyes. “I want you to look after Harry.”

Well fuck. 

Remus let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. This was ridiculous. Remus, look after Harry? Remus could barely look after himself, the state of his flat a very clear example of it. How was he supposed to look after a child by himself? Didn’t Dumbledore see that Remus wasn’t fit to be a parent? That he wasn’t responsible enough? That he’d mess up and ruin everything? Not to mention the fact that Remus was a fucking werewolf. How was that supposed to fit into it? How was he supposed to look after Harry when he was turning into a blood thirsty beast every month, preying on the innocent. Preying on Harry.

It just wouldn’t work. He was a monster, and monsters weren’t supposed to be parents.

“No,” Remus said firmly. “I can’t look after him. Find someone else.”

“Remus, you’re the only one he has.”

Remus snarled. “Well I can’t do it! I’m a fucking werewolf, Albus. How can I look after Harry when my very existence puts him in danger? And not to mention all-” he waved his hand around, gesturing to the messy and cluttered flat “-this. I’m not fit to be a parent.”

Dumbledore stared at him, as composed as ever. “As I said before, there’s no one else Remus. Either you take him, or he stays in that household.”

The ultimatum was like a knife carving up his skin. There were other options, of course. What if Harry stayed with Albus himself? Or with Molly. Hell, even Andromeda would probably take him. Albus had made up his mind though, and he wouldn’t settle for anyone but Remus. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t really care. All he knew was Albus was a manipulative bastard who always got his way, no matter what. And if Remus didn’t take him in, he knew Dumbledore probably would leave Harry in that house. It would make him easier to manipulate, which is a win in Dumbledore’s eyes, no matter the pain Harry would go through.

Remus knew he had to say yes. Dumbledore knew it too. Remus could tell from the way his eyes flashed, full of wicked plans that would ruin a lot of lives. Remus should know; those plans ruined his. Yet he couldn’t stand the thought of just bowing to Dumbledore, letting him win. It set Remus on edge, brought back the anger he had been oh so carefully keeping down. How could he just let Dumbledore get what he wanted, when he’d denied Remus? When he’d had the power to give Remus the one thing he was desperate for more than anything else, and he’d refused him? 

How could he grant Dumbledore this favour, when he never gave Sirius so much as a trial?

The idea came slowly, creeping in, passing all his barriers, unaware to Remus until it was firmly inside his head, already making base camp and settling down. As soon as he realised what he was thinking, he knew the thought wasn’t going anywhere. It had already dug its claws into Remus’s brain, created a hole into the centre of it and blocked the way out. It was there, and it would stay there.

Still, could Remus actually go through with it? The idea to demand Dumbledore give Sirius a trial now seemed… scary. Terrifying, really. He remembered how much he had wanted it, in the beginning, and now that he might receive it, Remus was ashamed to find he wasn’t sure he wanted it. Sirius would have been in Azkaban for a year now. How would that have changed him? Surely he wouldn’t be the same Sirius Remus remembered, the one who only cared about his hair and his friends.

This Sirius would be different. This Sirius would be broken. He would be a whole other person, one who had suffered months and months in a place with no happiness. A place that sucked the life out of him, literally. A place where he was trapped and alone with nothing but his own thoughts and others’ screams.

Remus felt sick just thinking about it, and of what Sirius would be going through right now. He already knew he was going to ask Dumbledore for it, because how could he leave Sirius there suffering when he had a chance to stop it? Especially if he wasn’t guilty. The whole reason Remus had wanted the trial in the first place was because he couldn’t believe what Sirius had done, couldn’t fathom the possibility where Sirius would ever hurt James, or Lily, or Harry. It just didn’t make sense, and though the doubts were there, though they had always been there, Remus was determined to at least try.

He owed Sirius that much, at least.

Albus noticed Remus’s resolve. He frowned, those wise eyes of his searching for what reason Remus might have to look like that. It didn’t take him long to find it. His eyes widened just a fraction, but it was enough for Remus to know that he knew. Still, he wanted to say it. He wanted to demand something of Albus and receive it for once. He was sick of the old man using him like a puppet, playing with the strings of his life like they didn’t matter.

“I want a trial for Sirius.”

Satisfaction bloomed in Remus’s chest after he said the words, as did a feeling of rightness. This was what he was supposed to be doing. Even if Sirius was guilty, even if he murdered Remus’s closest friends, Remus would do this for him. He always would, was the unfortunate truth. He would do anything for him, even if it made Remus hate himself. He would always love Sirius, and that fact had haunted him for the past year. When his lover was arrested for murdering his best friends, he loved him. When everyone seemed convinced it was the truth, that Sirius had ruined Remus’s life, he loved him. Even now, after a year of captivity, of being changed into a completely different person, Remus loved him.

Albus observed Remus silently, calculating in his head the pros and cons of doing what Remus asked. Obviously having the power to do it wasn’t the problem, as they both already knew. It was the reaction it would get out of the public, the repercussions they would face within the ministry. Remus was ready to face them. Was Dumbledore?

He deliberated for a while longer, the only sound being the bustling of London outside trickling in through the open window. Remus kept still, watching Dumbledore ponder with bitterness. He hated that Albus had all the power, that he was the one with all the connections. He hated that people liked him, that no one seemed to know how horrible he really was, and that he seemed to have everyone in the palm of his hand.

“Okay,” Dumbledore agreed. “I’ll get him a trial. In the meantime, I think you should get ready for Harry.” he gave Remus’s flat a pointed look. “Minerva will bring him over in a few hours.”

And with that the old man stood up, gave Remus a smile that made his blood boil, and showed himself out. Remus was left sitting on the couch, wondering how the fuck he was supposed to raise a child.

. . .

Remus wanted to pace. Pacing always helped with his nerves. It helped him think, helped him calm down and look at things with a clear head. He desperately needed a clear head now, as he sat in the stands of the Ministry of Magic courtroom, looking down at the empty chair where Sirius would be sitting in less than ten minutes.

Oh god, he was gonna be sick. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do any of this. What was he thinking, agreeing to raise a child in return for having a trial for his ex? boyfriend who allegedly murdered his best friends.

Except that he knew why he was doing this. He knew why he took in Harry. Because he loved him, and he loved Sirius, and he loved Lily and James and Peter. He thought back to last month, when Harry first arrived at his flat. He’d used magic to clean the house, and it hadn’t hurt as much as it usually did, yet at the same it seemed to break him down into little pieces. It was the hope, shining through him. He had Harry. Could he have Sirius too? Would he be able to raise Harry… with Sirius?

He found himself clinging onto that thought as he continued cleaning. As he transfigured the guest bed into a child’s one. As he went outside for the first time in weeks and shopped for toys, diapers, baby food, and anything else he could think of. As he hid the alcohol and the cigarettes, washed his clothes, finally cleaned the dishes. He clung onto the idea, because it made things easier. It reminded him of how things had been like when they first moved in, fresh out of Hogwarts. They made this a home, split up the chores, and had daily meet ups with Lily and James, Marlene and Dorcas, Peter, Mary…

He found it made things easier to pretend that the war never happened. That Sirius was off on a trip with James and would be back soon. With the rapid approach of Harry, he imagined how life would have been with Sirius if they’d had time to grow up and live a life together. If, when they were older, they decided they wanted to start a family of their own. Harry was that idea.

Of course, when Harry actually arrived, the fantasy came crashing down. Harry was an actual, real human that needed feeding and bathing and bedding. When he first arrived, he wouldn’t move from behind Minerva. He gripped her cloak in his tiny hands and hid away from Remus, speaking only when Minerva asked him a question.

Remus didn’t know what to do, or how to stop the ache in his chest at the sight of Harry hiding from him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Harry was supposed to know him, to squeal Moony when he saw him and run up to him, wrapping his arms around Remus’s legs and hugging them like a koala would a tree trunk. He was supposed to look around with eager eyes and shriek Padfoot, Padfoot! Waiting for Sirius to pop out and grab him, twirling him in the air as Harry’s laughs filled the house.

He wasn’t supposed to hide behind Minerva, hands trembling when she tried to push him towards Remus. He wasn’t supposed to have a blackened cheek, the rosy bloom hidden behind the proof of his pain, the edges of it tinged purple. He was two years old for Christ's sake. He shouldn’t be scared like this.

Remus managed to give the boy a shaky smile, fighting against the grief threatening to boil over. Maybe Harry remembered him then, from the early days of his life when Remus and Sirius were over constantly, or maybe he saw the fear in Remus’s eyes and realised he was just as scared as Harry was. Either way, Harry blinked up at him and stopped trembling so much. When Remus offered him a lolly- one of many that he’d bought and hidden in the cupboards- he even took it, head bowed and quietly mumbling something.

Unfortunately, Minerva had to leave eventually, and when she did the tears came. Harry sobbed quietly, tugging on the old woman’s cloak, begging her to stay. It broke Remus’s heart, the way Harry cried. He wasn’t loud and tantrum-y, like most toddlers were. Instead he had quiet sobs, racking his body as he attempted to silence them, most likely in fear. A toddler shouldn’t be afraid to cry, especially Harry. Beautiful baby Harry who was so loved but didn’t know it.

“Er- Harry, don’t cry,” Remus said, shuffling forward a few steps. He didn’t get too close, because he didn’t want to scare him. “I have more lollies for you, if you want?”

Harry paused, guided by his desire for sugar like all toddlers were, no matter how they were raised. He looked up at McGonagall, who nodded encouragingly, and ever so slowly Harry let his hand unravel from her cloak, and as Remus gave Harry another candy, she looked at Remus, smiled fondly, and silently walked out.

After that Remus struggled to get Harry bathed- he needed to be washed but didn’t like Remus touching him- and get him ready for bed- again, a challenge when Harry couldn’t put his pyjamas on and Remus wasn’t allowed to help him. When he asked Harry if he wanted some food before sleep Harry had looked up in surprise before mumbling a ‘I can have more?’ It was safe to say that had destroyed Remus, but he’d kept a strong face and cooked up a quick grilled cheese for Harry, who watched on in awe as Remus made it with magic- McGonagall had said before she left that it would be good for Harry to be around magic, so while Remus usually wouldn’t have used it, for Harry he would- and levitated it onto the little boy’s plate.

After dinner, he’d shown Harry to his room, and though he wasn’t able to tell Remus everything he thought, Remus could guess what he was thinking. All this room? For me? He’d hesitated at the door, unsure whether to read him a story or tuck him into bed, and watched as Harry had crawled into his bed by himself and pulled the covers up. Again, Remus hurt, because two year olds shouldn’t be doing that themselves. 

He ended up just staring at him for a while, gazing at the boy as he slept. He felt a surge of protectiveness, of love, and it was so unexpected, so unfamiliar to him after all this time that he’d stumbled to his own room, cast a silencing spell, and cried.

The next day Remus didn’t want to get up. He’d managed to crawl into his bed some point in the night in between the fits of crying, and he was so tired. He didn’t want to do anything. Didn’t want to eat, to shower, to face the agony that was his life. He was just going to sleep all day.

And then there was a tap on his shoulder. 

Remus opened his eyes, feeling groggy, and saw a raven haired toddler staring back at him, throat bobbing, wide, scared eyes already sheened with tears ready to drop. Remus blinked, and blinked again, a wave of guilt washing over him. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? How long had Harry been awake?

All of a sudden his plans to sleep all day were gone. Instead, he had a tiny human he needed to look after, and in his determination to do this right, his desire to do nothing disappeared. Oh, it would be back, it always was, but for the moment Remus focused on Harry.

“M’ hungry,” Harry mumbled, a slight lisp in his words. 

Remus nodded, getting up. The quick motion startled Harry, who stumbled back and fell over, scraping his knee on the carpeted floor. Immediately Remus was up and in a panic, crouching in front of Harry who was silently crying.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry it’s okay,” Remus tried to sooth. He wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job. “Come on, let’s get some ice on that knee, yeah?”

Harry looked up at him, at Remus’ panicked face, and surged forward, wrapping his hands around his waist. Remus froze, startled, but slowly wrapped his arms around the boy, hugging him close. He could tell Harry needed someone. He couldn’t be scared of Remus, because he was all he had, and in a little two year olds mind, even one that's been through as much as Harry, comfort was more important than fear.

Remus breathed in Harry’s scent, his heart swelling and shrivelling at the same time. Remus was both happy and sad, grateful and regretful. He loved Harry, and shame welled inside him at the thought of that whole year Harry was away, how Remus hadn’t even given him so much as a thought. He wanted to do better, be better for Harry, but it was hard. He wasn’t sure if he could.

Looking at Harry though, clinging to Remus and sniffling into his shirt, he knew that he’d try. He had to, for Harry. For Lily and James. For Sirius. For himself.

That was how Remus found himself sitting here, a month later, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Sirius. After that day Remus had made a point to wake up earlier than Harry and cook breakfast, which was definitely a struggle as Remus had a habit for oversleeping, wasting the day away lying in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

In some ways Harry was a blessing. He forced Remus to get up each morning, to face the day aware and sober, no matter how much he wished otherwise. He could put all of his focus on Harry and ignore everything else, which, honestly, wasn’t that hard. A toddler demanded attention, and Remus often found himself exhausted at the end of the day in a way he hadn’t been in a while. Exhaustion from doing something, not just from lying around all day and grieving. It felt good. Sort of. Sometimes Remus just wanted to hide under his blanket and never resurface, but the image of Harry’s purpled face always brings him back out.

The bruise was gone now, of course. It had disappeared about two weeks after Harry arrived, but the vision still haunted him. Remus suspected it always would, a reminder of his failed promise to Lily to look after Harry. He was fulfilling it now, though, and he’d make it up to Lily eventually. Hopefully.

The full moon had been a week ago. That was a struggle. Remus had organised with Andromeda to take care of him, thanking his stars that the woman had been kind enough to keep in touch. If not for Andromeda, Remus wasn’t sure what he would have done. The woman had come around lunchtime to collect Harry, quietly thanking Remus for getting Sirius a trial. By now the news of Sirius Black’s long awaited trial had spread, and while it was not released that Remus was the reason, Andy was smart enough to put two and two together.

Harry had had his first tantrum. When Andy had tried to take him away from Remus, the boy screamed and kicked and refused to leave Remus’s side. He didn’t understand what was happening- though Remus had tried to explain in simpler terms for him- but he knew he didn’t want to be away from Remus.

Remus was slightly warmed by the level of affection Harry already had for him, even if it was in the form of a tantrum. He hadn’t known how to act, because Harry had never had outbursts like this, but Andy who had a kid of her own was quick on the mark, promising candy and ice cream if he went with her. When Remus also encouraged him, saying Andy had a kid just a few years older than Harry that he could play with, the boy slowly calmed down.

After that, with more promises of sweets and fun, Andy and Remus managed to coax Harry out of the house, but not before Harry gave Remus a tight hug, sniffling into his jumper. Remus had picked him up and held him close, whispering that he’d come get him tomorrow, and he had. Even with the responsibility of Harry off his shoulders and his need to get away, Remus had forced himself to Andy’s house and took Harry back home, where he hugged Remus and explained in a few words his sleepover with Andy and Nymphadora.

Harry was at Andy’s house again today. The trial wasn’t open to the public, Remus being the exception because he’d been the one to demand it, so Andromeda had agreed to take Harry as long as Remus promised to explain what had happened afterwards. Remus had agreed, and now here he was, sitting restlessly in the stands and trying to control his breathing.

He wished Harry was here. He didn’t have to think with Harry, could focus on him and nothing else. Here though, he only had his thoughts. There were other people scattered among the stands, important Ministry employees, but they didn’t so much as look at Remus, murmuring with each other under their breaths.

Remus looked around the room, the green stained tiles covering every wall, the ornate pillars at the back, and the giant stand where the Head of Magical Law Enforcement would sit and hear Sirius Black’s trial.

As Sirius was overage, he was allowed to take truth serum on the stand, which took away all the unnecessary nonsense of proving his guilt or innocence like Muggle courts did. Instead, once Sirius had the truth serum, he would be asked questions and have a chance to tell his own story, and if he was innocent he’d be able to explain the truth of that night and be set free, and if he wasn’t…. Well, Remus refused to think about that at the moment.

Remus’ eyes continued scanning the room, which became unfortunate as he glanced up at the dementors up above, a thick layer of patronus keeping them from causing havoc in the room. It made Remus uncomfortable, to see the things that Sirius would have to see everyday, and he quickly averted his gaze to the side entrance that Sirius would be entering through, just as the door opened.

Remus blanched and nearly ran away right then. He’d been desperate to see Sirius, to get this trial, yet now that the possibility of seeing Sirius was only moments away, Remus didn’t want it. He didn’t want to be here, to see how Azkaban had ruined him, to see the one remaining friend from Hogwarts still alive and have the memories flood him. 

He was scared.

And then Sirius entered the room. Everyone had stopped talking, a tense silence descending over the courtroom, but Remus barely noticed. His eyes were glued to the frail man being led to the chair in the middle of the room, two guards on either side of him and two more behind him. They chained him to the chair, muttering spells onto the already enchanted item, before moving away to the walls of the courtroom, leaving the man bare for all to see. For Remus to see.

He was much smaller than Remus remembered. The muscle he’d gained from quidditch, from running around the park as a dog, running with Remus on the full moons, all gone. He had gangly limbs, his skin sticking to his bones, and a small body, engulfed by the chair he sat in. His hair was a mess, knots and bald spots everywhere. It was greasy and dead, each strand of hair limp against his face. Oh, his face. His cheeks were sallow from malnourishment, making him look like a ghoul from a horror story. His skin was a sickly pale, almost green. Nothing like the elegant ivory it once was. And his eyes…

His eyes were exactly the same, yet the biggest difference out of everything. They were the same grey they’d always been. Even from his place on the stands, he swore he could see the specks of lighter grey woven in there, Remus’s own personal night sky he could look at at any time of day.

Yet these eyes were not his. They were not the same ones he had spent a decade staring at, memorising. They weren’t the ones that spoke of mischief and adventure. Not the ones that Remus trusted, that stared at him like he was something worthy of love, something that Sirius himself loved. These were not his eyes. These were blank. Dead. A sheen coated them, stopping everything from getting through. They stared at nothing, saw nothing. They didn’t look around the room, didn’t spot Remus in the crowd and light up. They barely even blinked.

It broke Remus’s heart. These eyes that he had once loved with his whole heart, gone. Broken. How could they destroy the thing he loved most in the world? This man, the love of his life, was broken. Torn to pieces and destroyed. The eyes were the windows to the soul, but Remus couldn’t see anything. He looked and looked, scanning the man’s face, body, but there was no sign he even remembered who he was. Had Remus been too late? Had Azkaban already destroyed him?

Remus didn’t realise he was crying until he felt something wet on his cheeks. He rubbed them away, silently cursing himself for breaking down this early in the trial, but he couldn’t help it. Looking at Sirius and feeling the hopelessness that maybe he was too late. Maybe Sirius was already gone, out of reach.

Maybe Remus had already lost him.

Remus took in a shaky breath, forcing himself to stop crying. He could barely see through his tears, and he desperately wanted to see Sirius, even this broken, dead version of him. Any version of him was better than none.

“Sirius Orion Black,” a voice boomed from the stand.

Bartemius Crouch Senior. Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Remus didn’t tear his gaze from Sirius even as he slowly craned his head to look up at Crouch, eyes unseeing.

“You are here on trial for the murder of Peter Pettigrew, 12 muggle civilians, and the assisted murder of Lily and James Potter.”

Remus watched as Sirius’ eyes suddenly flashed and he was bearing his teeth, glaring at Crouch with a deep hatred. He was showing hostile behaviour, and the Ministry didn’t tolerate prisoners who couldn’t keep themselves collected, even after years in Azkaban. They usually just sent them back if they couldn’t get a hold of themselves and the trial was stopped.

Remus couldn’t let this happen. Sirius couldn’t blow his only chance at freedom because of his grief.

“Come on Sirius,” Remus whispered. “Calm down. Just calm down.”

Sirius’s body stiffened, and ever so slowly he turned his head to the side, eyes staring right at Remus. His breath hitched. He didn’t know how Sirius had heard him from all the way up here, but his eyes were fixed on Remus as something crawled back into them. Just a fraction of what once filled his eyes, but it was enough for Remus.

He gave Sirius a shaky smile, tears slipping down his face, and motioned to Crouch, who was also staring at Remus with narrowed eyes. Sirius didn’t look back at him. He kept his eyes on Remus even when Crouch continued speaking, explaining the trial to him and what it would include.

He kept his eyes on Remus, and Remus kept his eyes on Sirius, aware that this was probably the only thing keeping Sirius from going berserk. He didn’t know this new Sirius, but he knew the old one would bristle when anyone so much as uttered Regulus, his brother’s name, and would gladly fight anyone who said anything about him, good or bad. Considering his reaction to Barty mentioning Lily, James, and Peter, Remus thought that it was good he was here, otherwise Sirius’ trial wouldn’t get very far at all.

When Crouch announced the official start of the questioning, Remus’s eyes darted to him, and when he looked back at Sirius he, too, was staring at Crouch, though there was no hatred in his stare. The blank look was back.

“Did you, Sirius Orion Black, murder Peter Pettigrew?”

Everyone waited with baited breath for Sirius to answer, and Remus was no exception. He wanted to believe Sirius was innocent, he did, but there were doubts. Of course there were doubts, because there always were, and they were prodding the back of Remus’s mind, looking for any cracks in his resolve to sneak through, to taint Remus’s loyalty. 

Remus ignored them. He ignored their clammy hands picking at his brain, ignored the darkness waiting outside, begging to be let in. He ignored all the doubts, because now was when he’d find out if Sirius murdered Peter for good, if he was the reason for Lily and James’ death, and suddenly he didn’t care for doubts. All he could do was hope, and that was what he was doing. He wasn’t considering the facts, wasn’t thinking of the likelihood of his innocence. He was just hoping, because in that moment it was all he could do.

Sirius stared at Crouch before his gaze wavered, and instead landed on Remus. He tried to act strong as he waited for Sirius to speak. Tried to look like this wouldn’t be the making or breaking of Remus’s life, that he wasn’t desperately, hopelessly praying to every god and deity he’d ever heard of and all the unknown ones that Sirius was innocent. 

Sirius saw through him anyway, he always did, which was why when he answered, he kept his eyes on Remus, answering for him.

“No.”

And oh.

Oh.

The relief made Remus want to cry. He did cry, because he wasn’t guilty. Sirius Black was innocent and now everyone knew. Sirius didn’t kill Remus’ best friends. Sirius was loyal, and how could Remus have ever even entertained anything else? How could he when he saw first hand the love Sirius and James had for one another. Sirius would have died for him, and Remus had doubted Sirius’s innocence. What the fuck was wrong with him? What was wrong with everyone? How could they have believed this shit, and gone on with their lives as if it were true?

Sirius Black killing Peter Pettigrew. Killing Lily Potter and James Potter. James Potter, his best friend. What bullshit. Preposterous. Sirius would never intentionally hurt his friends, and Remus should have fully believed it from the start. He did now, though, and he hoped Sirius would see it as a start and forgive him for having doubts, however small they were, about his innocence.

Sirius watched Remus’ reaction, watched him as he came to the same conclusion as everyone else in the room; Sirius Black was innocent. He half smiled at Remus, but it wasn’t his normal smile. It was a bitter, humourless, sour one that contorted his face. It set Remus on edge.

“If you didn’t kill Pettigrew, then who did?” Crouch asked slowly. 

This time Sirius’ wicked smile set everyone on edge. They all waited with baited breath, watching Sirius as he let the suspense drag on, relishing in their uncomfort. Relishing in the fact he had the power for once.

“No one did,” he said quietly, though not to be mistaken as weakly. His voice was firm, stable as he explained the truth. “He’s still alive, and he killed those muggles.”

It was quiet in the courtroom. People wanted to call him a liar, to say no, impossible, but Sirius had truth serum in his system. He could say nothing but the truth, which meant Peter… Peter murdered those people.

Remus felt sick. One murderous friend traded for another. 

“And not only that,” Sirius continued, though Crouch hadn’t asked anymore. The truth serum seemed to be at it’s prime if Sirius couldn’t stop telling the truth. “He also betrayed Lily and James. He was a death eater and told You Know Who where they were.” His voice was feverish, eyes a bit crazed as he talked.

Crouch slammed his enchanted gavel, silencing Sirius with it. He stared at Crouch, fire in his eyes, but didn’t fight the enchantment. “How could Pettigrew have given You Know Who the whereabouts of Lily and James Potter if you were their secret keeper?”

He flicked his hand and the enchantment on Sirius left, releasing him from the inability to speak. “Because we swapped. We didn’t tell anyone, but we thought it would be smarter if I wasn’t the secret keeper, because it’s what everyone would expect. Not even Dumbledore knew we swapped. Turns out we played right into the little bastard's hand because he ran right to You Know Who and told him without a second thought,” Sirius snarled, eyes wild.

Fuck. Fuck. Remus felt like he couldn’t breathe. What the fuck was happening? He’d hoped Sirius was innocent, but he hadn’t realised that meant this would be the story. Pete… How could he do that? He was one of James’ best friends. How could he betray him like that? How could he purposefully have a hand in killing James? James had loved him and Peter had in return given him a death sentence. He was the reason James and Lily were dead. He killed them, and left their son an orphan. He killed Harry’s parents.

The anger that was on Sirius’ face was inside Remus. He felt the injustice of it, felt the rage that one of their own could do this, that poor, small Peter was the murderer. Remus should have seen it. He’d always been a rat, Remus just hadn’t realised in what way.

The trial continued on, getting every piece of information from Sirius, including how they were illegally animagus- Remus had winced at that part, but considering the fact they’d wrongly held him in Azkaban for a whole year he assumed they’d let it slide- and that that had been how Peter escaped, cutting of his hand and turning into a rat.

But Sirius was innocent. Everyone could agree. He’d passed the trial. He was innocent. 

He was innocent.

Remus still couldn’t fully wrap his mind around the fact, and all he wanted to do was find a dark corner and cry. Just get it all out. The pain, relief, and grief he felt. It was all too much, gathering in his chest and making it heavier and heavier and heavier. He just needed a release. Someway to ease the tension inside him.

It became clear to him pretty quickly that he wasn’t going to get that anytime soon. As soon as the trial ended people were talking over one another about what this meant, what comes next, and, more importantly, what to do with Sirius Black now. He was an innocent man, but he’d been in prison for a year and most of his friends were dead because of the war, leaving Sirius with no one.

Almost no one.

People started looking at Remus and whispering to each other. He looked away, standing there awkwardly. Sirius had already been escorted out, probably to a waiting room while they figured out what the fuck to do with him. Remus didn’t know where that left him. Should he go home? Cry and scream and let it all out? Or should he wait for Sirius, who might need him?

He didn’t want to wait. Shamefully and selfishly, Remus just wanted to leave. To lock himself in his room and let Harry stay at Andy’s for a few days until he felt like he could function properly again, because he certainly couldn’t right now. His brain felt sluggish, every thought dragging across his mind like a snail. He thought he should probably talk to someone about what to do, but he also didn’t know who to talk to. Would any of these people be able to tell him where to go, what to do? He desperately just wanted someone to tell him what to do, to follow orders and have the responsibility out of his hands, because right now it felt like he was drowning in it.

“Mr Lupin.”

At the sound of Albus’s voice Remus tensed up. He turned around, keeping his face blank, as he found himself face to face with the person who made this happen. Remus hated it, but none of this would have happened without him. 

“I hope now that I have done what you asked, you will continue to look after Harry?”

Remus could hear the rest of his sentence. Because if not, I can stop this just as easily as I started it. 

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes.”

Dumbledore smiled, peering at Remus over his spectacles with amusement. He seemed to find Remus funny. His life funny. The current predicament he was in funny. Remus gritted his teeth but held his tongue.

“I assume you want to see Mr Black now?”

Remus blanched, the panic he felt flashing in his eyes for Dumbledore to see. “I can do that?”

“Of course,” Albus said. “Follow me.”

Remus didn’t really want to follow him. He didn’t want to see Sirius, not right now. Not when he was this close to breaking down. He wanted to be strong when he saw Sirius. Wanted enough time to plan what he wanted to say, to find a way to cope with talking to Sirius after everything. He didn’t have any preparation right now. He’d probably burst into tears as soon as he came face to face with the man. Something Dumbledore knew. He didn’t doubt the old man saw Remus’s panic and grabbed at it, giving Remus one last fuck you before they became even. 

Even so, Remus stayed quiet as his former headmaster led him through the halls of the Ministry. They went up a level, walking through empty corridors, their steps echoing into the otherwise silent hallways. Eventually, they stopped walking in front of a door. It looked just like all the other’s they’d passed; black, plain, a simple doorknob adorning it. 

“These are the Ministry suites, set aside for when a business meeting goes on late, any foreign politicians staying with us or, in this case, when a previously guilty man is found innocent and has no other place to stay,” Albus smiled, as if talking about the weather. “I’ll inform the Ministry that he’ll be staying with you from now on, unless-” he stopped talking, looking at Remus with a challenge in his gaze “-you don’t want to take him in?”

Remus swallowed, irritated at the difficult position Dumbledore has once again put him in. He couldn’t say no without the information going to Sirius, and Remus could only imagine what thoughts would go through his head if that were the case. Yet if he said yes, he’d be agreeing to something he wasn’t ready for. Remus was nearly having a heart attack at just the thought of talking to Sirius. So to have him live with him again straight away after everything… well, Remus wasn’t sure he’d be able to cope with it.

It wasn’t as though Albus had given him much of a choice though, because Remus knew he couldn’t let Sirius think he was unwanted, not now when he was so vulnerable.

“Fine,” he spat out.

Not waiting to see the expression on Dumbledore’s face, the smugness no doubt displayed there, Remus twisted the doorknob and entered the room, slamming it harder than necessary behind him.

He didn’t even think about it; he’d just wanted to escape Albus. Now though, panic seized him, because he’d just entered Sirius’ suite. He was about to see Sirius face to face for the first time in over a year. The overwhelming urge to run filled him, as did the paralysis of fear, and he stood as still as a statue as the two instincts warred inside him, waiting for Sirius to appear.

Yet, when no one turned the corner or spoke his name, Remus started to focus on the room more and realised he could hear the faint spraying of water. Sirius must be having a shower. Remus was relieved, tears prickling his eyes as he breathed deeply. He could still leave if he wanted, focus on what he wanted to say a while more before seeing Sirius.

Except Dumbledore could still be waiting outside; Remus wouldn’t put it past him, and honestly, he felt too scared to move. Sirius was in the other room. The closest they’ve been to each other in a year. Remus didn’t know what to do. He wanted to leave, but his feet were stuck to the floor, as if trapped in stone.

The sound of water was suddenly silenced and Remus nearly threw up right then and there. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of here. Yet his feet wouldn’t fucking move and his eyes were glued to the bathroom door and his mind was a whirring mess and fucking hell what was Remus supposed to do?

The door opened and Sirius stepped out, bear chested as he struggled with the shirt in his hands. He didn’t even notice Remus until he’d managed to get the shirt over his head, covering his barren chest, so skinny Remus was able to count every individual rib.

When he did notice him he froze, an unnatural stillness taking over his body. He stared at Remus like a deer in headlights and Remus stared back, equally as terrified. He could see Sirius waiting for him to speak, could tell he needed to explain why he was here, but nothing came out. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to articulate the pain he’d felt this past year and how much Sirius meant to him, so instead he just said:

“Your shirt is on backwards.”

Sirius blinked, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Eventually he managed a rasped, “what?” and Remus pointed to the shirt he was wearing.

“You put your shirt on backwards.”

His words sounded strange, even to his own ears. Unusually high pitched, almost garbled. He didn’t like it very much.

Sirius looked down at his shirt, noticing the lack of front buttons and let out an “oh.” Remus nodded, hating how tense things felt between them. The only other time he could ever recall feeling like this was when the prank happened in fifth year, and even then they’d had two others to help mediate the situation.

Remus cleared his throat again, looking anywhere but Sirius.

“Remus.”

The softness of his voice brought Remus’s eyes straight back to him, to Sirius, who was looking at him like he was about to break down and cry. Remus found himself feeling the exact same.

“Yeah?” he breathed, feeling suddenly short of breath.

Sirius inhaled sharply, just as a tear rolled down his cheek. “You came.”

And the utter shock in his voice, the unbelief, like he didn’t expect Remus to come, made his heart break.

“Of course I did, sweetheart,” Remus whispered, and of course that broke whatever was holding them both up right.

They fell into each other’s arms, and Remus’s mind started screaming at him.

Home. Home, home, home.

With Sirius’s arms around him, Remus felt all the feelings he’d suppressed over the years rise up. He felt the betrayal of Sirius killing Peter, of helping kill Lily and James. He felt the grief of losing all of his friends, the loneliness of waking up each day and wishing he hadn’t. He was brought back to the first few weeks after finding out what had happened, the waves of emotion crashing over him, dragging him under. Everything was brought back up, and Remus cried into Sirius, gripping at his shirt, clinging to his body, so much smaller than before, for dear life.

He could feel Sirius doing the same. Could feel his hands clawing at his back, pulling him closer. Nothing was okay. Sirius was still fucked up after his time in Azkaban, and probably thought this was all a dream, or even a nightmare. Remus was still depressed, still felt like his heart was constantly being ripped out of chest, like he couldn’t breathe, but in that moment none of that mattered. They were together, and frankly, that was all Remus could have hoped for.

. . .

It took a while for them to get used to each other again. At the start, their words were stilted, wrong. They couldn’t understand each other anymore, weren’t on the same wavelength they used to be on. They struggled to talk, to explain their experiences after that night, to live with each other now that everything was different.

Remus didn’t think they would have been able to get through it, if it hadn’t been for Harry. After reuniting, they had decided to go back to Remus’s flat rather than stay at the Ministry, and in the midst of all the chaos of seeing Sirius again, he’d forgotten to tell Sirius about Harry. The next day, Remus was so emotionally and physically drained all he’d been able to do was make Sirius some tea before going back to sleep.

He could tell that Sirius wasn’t back to normal now that he was in a safe environment. He slept as Padfoot, spoke little, almost as if he’d forgotten how, and was always on edge. A contrast to Remus who had just given up and not cared about anything, Sirius was on alert all the time. Every little sound made him jump, even the ones he made himself. It hurt Remus to see Sirius so broken, and he could only imagine what Sirius must think of Remus, sleeping all day.

On the third day, Remus made more of an effort to help Sirius. He made him breakfast, which Sirius practically inhaled, making Remus feel ashamed for giving him nothing but a cup of tea yesterday. Sirius had previously been sleeping on the couch, and though Remus wanted him to be able to sleep in a bed, there were no extra rooms or beds anymore, so he’d offered for Sirius to share his room, like they once had.

Sirius’s eyes had widened, making an assumption of what Remus meant, and that’s when he remembered about Harry. He’d sort of just… assumed Sirius had known, since it was the biggest thing in Remus’s life at the moment- other than him of course- but Sirius didn’t know anything anymore. Remus had been so used to them being caught up on each others lives that he’d forgotten Sirius knew next to nothing about Remus’s life now.

He’d quickly sat Sirius down and tried to explain, though it came as more of a struggle than Remus had expected.

“I… haven’t told you something about my life,” Remus had started. Sirius had shrunk back, and Remus wondered what he was thinking. Maybe that Remus had a new boyfriend. That would be a laugh, wouldn’t it? “It’s nothing bad, per se, but… you will need to know about it if you’re going to continue living here.”

Fuck, Remus had thought. What if he hadn’t planned on continuing to live here? What if he wanted his own place away from Remus where he could heal on his own? And Remus had just assumed he’d stay here like an asshole and Sirius would now feel like he had to-

Remus pushed forward. “I- I’m looking after Harry. Like, permanently. He lives here. That’s why I offered you my bed instead of the spare. Because there isn’t a spare anymore.”

Sirius had been silent. He’d thought for a while, and Remus had sat there in tense silence with him, wishing he could read Sirius’s mind, see what he was thinking. Eventually he’d just nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Where- where is he now?”

Remus took a deep breath. “Andy’s.”

Sirius looked surprised, and thought some more. He’d asked some questions and Remus had answered them. When Sirius had found out Harry had been abused by the Dursleys, well, it hadn’t been pretty. Still, in the end, he’d agreed to stay, and though Sirius was still severely fucked up, Remus swore Sirius seemed almost excited to see Harry.

Remus gave it a few more days for Sirius to get comfortable before bringing Harry home. Sirius moved into Remus’s room but always slept as Padfoot on the end of the bed. Conversation between them was stiff and awkward, and Remus was starting to get desperate.

So when Harry had arrived, baby Harry who was a lantern in the darkness, Remus had been relieved. He’d opened the door and Harry had jumped on him, wrapping his arms around Remus and refusing to let go. Without even meaning to Remus had let out a soft laugh and picked Harry up, hugging him tightly and breathing in his scent. Remus wondered when Harry’s scent had become so comforting to him.

Harry had gone nervous when he’d spotted Sirius though, hiding behind Remus once he’d put him down. He could see it broke Sirius’s heart to see Harry afraid of him.

“Hey, Harry, no reason to be scared,” Remus assured him. “This is Si- Padfoot. You remember Padfoot, yeah?”

Remus wasn’t sure why he changed to Padfoot. Maybe he’d hoped Harry would remember him better.

Anyway, it didn’t take long before Harry was obsessed with Sirius. He followed him everywhere and constantly wanted to be hugged and Sirius was drinking it up eagerly. He wanted to be there for Harry, and Remus suspected it was because it helped him ignore his own problems, like what Remus had done.

Sirius and Andromeda had had their own teary reunion, and after that she came over much more frequently. Harry started becoming more comfortable in the flat. Remus even heard him refer to it as home when all three of them had gone shopping. It had warmed Remus’s heart, as had the sudden swiftness Sirius had picked up parenting with. It was still difficult, of course, but Sirius tried. He put on a smile, read all the books, and started seeing a Mind Healer, encouraging Remus to do the same.

That was how they’d started talking about more serious things. With Harry there as a sort of buffer, Sirius and Remus had been able to talk more, and when Harry went to bed, they found themselves talking to each other more easily without him. They hadn’t talked much about what they’d both been through, though, because neither of them were brave enough to broach the subject. One night, though, when Harry had gone to bed and Remus made some tea for them, Sirius finally broached the subject.

“I’ve started seeing a Mind Healer,” he murmured into the silence. They often sat in silence. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t how it used to be either.

Remus looked up, startled. “Oh. When?”

“Today,” Sirius answered. He hesitated before continuing. “I don’t want to overstep, but maybe you’ll consider going to see one as well? I just feel it would be better for us, and Harry, if we… I don’t know- tried to sort it out? Talk about it maybe?”

Remus thought about his words, feeling mixed emotions. On one hand he was right. Seeing a Mind Healer would help, and it would be the right thing to do for Harry, but on the other hand, Remus loathed the idea of talking to a stranger about his feelings and problems. Looking at Sirius though, it wasn’t as if he was talking to his friends, so maybe a stranger would be better.

Remus swallowed thickly before speaking. “Okay. Yeah, I- I think that would be good.”

Sirius nodded, the conversation lapsing into silence, before Remus spoke up. “What- what was it like there? In Azkaban?”

Sirius had flinched, and Remus had been terrified that he’d overstepped, but then Sirius started talking. He talked, and though what he talked about was one of the worst things Remus had ever heard in his life, he was relieved they were both finally talking.

After that, things between them had gotten slightly less strange. Some of the old feelings came back, like when they made an inside joke about Hogwarts, or when Remus would put on some Bowie Harry would laugh in excitement, because whenever there was music Sirius would dance with him, just like Sirius used to do with Remus. Sirius even started sleeping in the bed as a human, though nothing had started between them… yet.

Things were still severely fucked, but it was a start. As were the lingering touches and looks, soft smiles and shy laughter. It wasn’t the same. It never would be again. But it was something new, something different, and even with everything that had happened, Remus couldn’t help but look forward to it.