Sirius
Petunia and Vernon Dursley live in No. 4, Privet Drive. Their house is very ordinary, a cookie-cutter suburban house just like all the other houses along the street. Vernon Dursley, according to Minerva, is a director at a drill manufacturing company (whatever that is), and Petunia an ordinary housewife. They have one son, who they spoil rotten, according to Remus. Petunia Dursley has a long, thin neck, which Sirius is certain benefits her greatly when craning her head across the fence or around the curtains, trying to catch gossip. In contrast to her thin frame, Vernon Dursley is large, with a neck so thick Sirius isn’t sure there even is any neck left.
Petunia and Vernon Dursley are also the worst people on the planet. They are the scum of the Earth. If all muggles were like them, Sirius would never have left the Black family and been called a blood traitor, because he would not have defended muggles even in the slightest. Hell, the Dursleys are probably as bad as the Blacks with their prejudice against magic. They are certainly on par with their abusive opinions of punishment, although they seem to have spared their own son from that form of discipline. Sirius wants to wrap his hands around Petunia’s thin neck and squeeze it until she's as red as Vernon had gotten when he learned they were magic. Then he wants to show Vernon what abuse in a magical household feels like.
But he doesn’t, because Remus gives him this look , and grabs his arm, and then practically hauls him out of the house and into the car—he even buckles Sirius in—before Sirius can do much more than take a few threatening steps in Petunia’s direction.
“Padfoot, please stop kicking my chair,” Remus says calmly from the driver’s seat. Sirius pauses and glances at him; his knuckles are white on the steering wheel and his voice too controlled. Sirius stops kicking his seat.
“I still think you should’ve let me hex them,” Sirius mutters bitterly.
“We just got you out of Azkaban, Sirius, can’t have you going back,” Remus replied.
“Although believe me, Sirius, we all wanted to hex them,” Minerva adds darkly. “Horrible, awful muggles.”
“So why—“
“We can’t afford to have the wizarding world paying any attention to the Dursleys,” Remus interrupts, “it wouldn’t be hard to figure that that’s where Harry was left, especially if you’re part of the scene, and then it’ll be clear he’s not there anymore, and if people know that the Boy Who Lived is missing, the whole of wizarding Britain will be up in a clamour to find him.”
“Remus is right, Sirius. Although the two deserve punishment for what they did to poor Harry, our priority is not justice, but to find the boy and ensure his safety.”
“His safety? He was sent to an orphanage! Abandoned and left like—like—“ Sirius gets cut off by the seatbelt. He wrestles with it in frustration, but some of his anger is stifled along with his airways.
“Petunia did what she could to keep him safe, even when she couldn’t keep him with her.” Remus’ voice is even more measured, and Sirius knows it pains him a bit to even speak that kindly about the woman. Sirius’ hands clench on the seatbelt where he has pulled it away from his neck.
“She should have! She should have—“
“Would you prefer Harry being abused in his own home?” Minerva asks sharply, “Petunia did her best with two babies only months apart, one severely traumatised. It appeared she wanted to keep him, but when he began exhibiting magic—“
“To punish and abandon a child, a toddler, because he has magic—“
“Is wrong, and can lead to very grievous consequences, and Petunia knew that! She knew she could not raise him under her roof, not if Vernon was going to be physically abusive to the boy, and to her if she protected him.”
“Oh please, like she wasn’t abusive to Harry too, you heard how she spoke about him, what she said about us—“
“Sirius, please.” Remus’ voice cracks, and Sirius falls silent. He watches Remus’ jaw work, not speaking, because the anguish in Remus’ voice seems to have scared away the boiling anger in his veins. Remus, Sirius knows, is still angry, but while Sirius has always had a short and quick temper, always blowing up at the drop of a hat and calming down just as fast, Remus’ fury burns slow and bright and vicious, and tends to turn inward. A Remus truly furious is a Remus unspeakably angry, literally, so Sirius watches and waits to see if Remus will speak, a part of him afraid that he’s the one who pushed Remus to silence.
Finally, Remus opens his mouth, voice just as measured and controlled as before. “We are as appalled and angry as you are, but we are trying to manage it. The Dursleys are awful people, but Harry isn’t with them anymore. And frankly, I don’t know if it’s worse that they gave him up, and that we don’t know where he is, but at least we know for certain he isn’t living in that household where he’d be punished for things he has no control over and his magic repressed.”
“But to abandon him on the street just like that,” Sirius complains quietly, pressing back into his seat.
“Petunia left him with the muggle law enforcement, with his name and the fact that his parents had died in an accident.” Minerva says crisply. “She disguised herself and refused to give her own personal information, as she knew it was possible people would look for him.”
“More like she didn’t want it on her record,” Sirius mutters under his breath.
“She did not drop him directly off at an orphanage, so she can’t tell anyone where the boy is if questioned under magic. Many muggle-borns have managed to perform accidental magic in all sorts of environments, and places like orphanages are generally only monitored by the Ministry at a distance; if the child reaches Hogwarts age, they are sent a representative and allowed full scholarship to the school, but before then are left completely alone. Their magic is generally allowed to mature fully, although of course growing up without a family is… a different matter.”
“We have to find him,” Sirius stresses.
“Of course, Padfoot. We will.”
“And when we do I’ll adopt him, get custody as his godfather.” Sirius stares defiantly at the backs of their heads, daring them to deny him this.
“So long as he hasn’t been adopted by a different family—one that isn’t abusive, of course,” Remus points out.
“Unlikely, I believe” Minerva says, “muggle orphans are usually only adopted when they are babies; parents don’t want a child who is already grown, and a three year old like Harry would’ve been too difficult to want to adopt. He’s likely still there, and will be until we find him or he reaches Hogwarts age.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about muggle orphanages, Minerva,” Remus says casually.
“I knew... someone,” Minerva says carefully, “who had grown up in a muggle orphanage. He kept it a secret, didn’t want anyone to know, but a few did, and I… did a bit of research once I'd found out.” Minerva speaks slowly, as if thinking hard on each and every word, but her voice is carefully neutral.
“Well, that research will come in very handy, as we look for Harry,” Sirius says, but Minerva is looking a bit absently out the window.
“Yes… Harry, at an orphanage… just like him,” she says distantly.
After an awkward pause, Remus clears his throat. “Well, while we look, we have to lay low in the wizarding world. No one can know Harry is missing.”
“Not even Dumbledore,” Sirius adds, although he’s fairly certain it doesn’t need to be said. The fact that Dumbledore had thought that Mrs. Figg was a good candidate to watch Harry when she hadn’t even realised that he hadn’t been seen in the neighbourhood in almost four years should be enough. For Dumbledore to be hearing reports from that woman and not think anything was amiss meant that Dumbledore does not, actually, care too much about Harry’s well-being, and as such has been lying to Sirius about Harry in order to keep him from trying to take Harry from the Dursleys. Who don’t even have him anymore, and if they did, Sirius would probably still take him, but now he can’t because he doesn’t know where his godson is, and the only lead they have is he’s probably at an orphanage that he was sent to from a precinct who-knows-where. (No, really, the awful woman said she just drove into the countryside until she couldn’t take Harry’s crying anymore and found the nearest police station, dropped him off, and left as soon as possible. Sirius really should’ve hexed her.)
“Are you going to keep it a secret once you’ve found him as well?” Minerva asks, “Only, if you do, then Dumbledore and Hagrid and whoever else might know about the Dursleys might think he’s still there, but if you start showing up in the wizarding world with Harry Potter…”
“We’re going to have to do all of this the muggle way,” Remus decides. Sirius’ heart clenches at the “we”. “He’s in the muggle system, so we’ll have to get him out the muggle way. Then, even if he knows about magic and the like, we’ll have to keep him mostly in the muggle world. That way, everyone can continue thinking the Boy Who Lived is hidden away with the Dursleys or wherever they think he is, and no one’s attention will be drawn to him, good or bad.”
“…Are you saying we’re going to have to live like a muggles?” Sirius asks dubiously.
“You will have to live partly as a muggle, yes.” Sirius frowns a bit at the “you”, but he supposes Remus said he would help find Harry, not raise him.“You can’t disappear from the wizarding world completely, of course, because that will be suspicious as well. But you can’t live with Harry at the flat, everyone knows you have it, and it’s hooked up to the floo and everything. You’ll need another place where Harry can go out and make friends and all in the muggle world.” Remus reaches a hand back clumsily to pat the air near Sirius. “There, there, you’ll have time,” Remus says, “we still need to find him, and that will give you plenty of practice being a muggle.”
Minerva drops them off at the flat and continues on to return the car to wherever she’d gotten it. She assures them she’ll keep in touch, but probably won’t be able to meet until the Hogsmeade weekend two weeks from now. Soon after she’s gone, Remus also begs off.
“I really should head back, I haven’t been home in two days. My mum will think I’m dead or something,” he says as they walk up to the flat where he can apparate or floo out.
“You won’t stay even for dinner?” Sirius tries, “it’s not that late.”
“Padfoot…” Remus sighs, and Sirius feels a wave of guilt, remembering again that despite agreeing to be friends, despite saying he’ll help find Harry, Remus never claimed to forgive Sirius, only that he would move on from the past. “Just friends” do not spend every hour of every day together, and Sirius should let Remus go home.
“It’s alright, Moony,” Sirius reassures, “I understand. It’s been a long day.”
“Quite,” Remus agrees, shooting him a grateful look.
“I’ll… will I see you soon?” Sirius lets Remus into the flat and closes the door, but Remus doesn’t move from the entryway.
“Yes, of course.”
“Are you free tomorrow?” Sirius tries not to sound desperate and fails spectacularly, judging by Remus’ wince. “I mean—not—not tomorrow, just—“
“I should probably start job hunting again,” Remus interrupts graciously before Sirius embarrasses himself any further. “I’ll let you know when I’m free, but let’s try to meet up sometime this week to figure out our next steps.”
“Right, of course, yes.” Sirius tries to hide his disappointment. Remus has a life , he berates himself, just because yours always revolved around him does not mean his revolves around you.
“What… what are your plans this week, Padfoot?” There’s a careful, wary way Remus is speaking, almost like when he was afraid Sirius was planning the most wonderful, dangerous, detention-worthy prank. Sirius wishes he could give a satisfactory answer, but can only manage to sound casual.
“Oh, lounge around the flat as a dog, decide to brave the outdoors to run errands and try not to murder members of the press or my adoring fans.” Sirius tries not to let his voice shake at the prospect of having to make his way through Diagon Alley on his own; while it had been wonderful and lovely with Minerva, he’d tried dropping by the Leakey Cauldron for lunch on Wednesday and was accosted by what seemed like the entire pub and their mums. Sirius has taken to walking around muggle London instead, re-familiarising himself with the neighbourhood.
“Alright…” Remus is still standing there in the entryway with his coat and shoes on, although Sirius has moved to sit on the couch. Sirius hopes he’ll take off his shoes and stay, even just a bit more. He wants another meal with Remus, wants to cook dinner for Remus. Wants him to stay another night, so he won’t be alone, remembering the face Vernon Dursley had made, the halting way Petunia had sent the man out and her matter-of-fact words describing what she had done to Harry.
“You ought to get some money exchanged for pounds,” Remus finally says, still standing there. “And—you should catch up on pop culture. Buy some books, some records.” He gestures, somewhat uselessly in Sirius’ opinion, at the record player; Sirius had offered Remus’ records back earlier today, but Remus had declined.
“Anything you suggest?” Sirius asks, only partially to keep him here. Sirius is suddenly so, so tired, of these polite conversations, these friendly back-and-forths, neither of them saying what they really want. Suddenly, Sirius wants Remus to leave, if only so he won’t keep standing there like some fool, stuck in the entryway.
“I haven’t been the most up-to-date with the newer stuff, but I know Bowie’s got some new music. And I’m sure there will be more of those romance books you love.”
“Ah,” Sirius had forgotten about those. Sometime after running away from home, around the time Sirius realised he would be on the front lines of a war, he had found himself unable to read the daring adventure novels of his youth, and had turned, inexplicably, to romance books. Especially during the war, when his own romantic problems seemed too complex to untangle, Sirius lost himself in those stories instead. “Well then, music store, bookstore, anything else?”
“Well, I’ve always been partial to sitting at a cafe near along the river and reading a book, but I don’t know if that’s punk rock enough for you.”
Sirius laughs, and Remus smiles, and for a moment he can see it, Remus sitting along the river with a book in one hand and tea in the other. He wishes he’d taken Remus out on a date along the Thames, and sat at a coffee shop to read books side-by-side. He wishes he hadn’t been so caught up in the war and his rebellious punk rock image, wishes he had treated Remus the way he deserved. He wishes Remus had let him. He wishes Remus would stay, would forgive Sirius, would wrap him up in his arms and tell him he’d always believed he was innocent, always knew he wasn’t the traitor. He wishes Remus would stop standing by the door.
“I’ll have to give it a try, let you know how it goes,” Sirius says. Remus softens, a bit, then hardens as he puts his walls back up. Sirius tries not to yell at the sight, and bites his tongue as Remus bids him goodbye and leaves.
Sirius skips dinner and goes straight to bed, where he wracks his brain, trying to remember—even just a faint tingle of a memory—ever having a sweet, soft date with Remus. Remus, who was all books and comfy sweaters, who wore soft things to hide all his hard edges. Remus, who Sirius had stared at so much in fifth year that James had pulled him aside and told him to be careful, to not hurt him, and “you better be serious about this Pads, he has no one if he loses you.” Remus, who James had chosen, and trusted, and loved, even when Sirius fucked up and hurt him and tried to get James to hurt him too. Remus, who Sirius wishes to have taken out on bookstore dates and romantic, soppy dates, and anything other than the memories he does have of the pub with their friends and a fuck at home after, just the right amount of drunk.
Remus, who didn’t visit him at St. Mungo’s, who probably only showed his face to Sirius because of Harry, who will only stick around for Harry, who is treating Sirius like an acquaintance whenever they are alone, who couldn’t even tell him if they had ever been happy together.
Eventually, the memories turn dark, as they often do, and Sirius gives up and shifts into Padfoot. The simpleness of a dog’s thoughts and feelings are a relief after the turmoil and heartache, and Sirius curls up to sleep.
The first month after Harry had been born, Sirius and Remus (and… the other one) practically lived with the Potters. The two of them were working harder than ever for the Order, picking up more shifts and taking missions that would otherwise have gone to the Potters or the Longbottoms, but when they weren’t on stakeouts or raids or fighting for their lives, they were at the Potters. They helped James and Lily figure out bath time, and changing nappies, and took shifts putting Harry back to sleep when he cried in the middle of the night. Lily joked that she should’ve known that marrying James meant marrying the lot of them, and having a baby with James meant sharing said baby too, but Sirius knew she was grateful for the help, especially as James returned to Auror duty. She spent most of her downtime sleeping and working off the baby fat, determined to get back into the field as soon as she could; after the first month, she began brewing potions for the Order and researching more defensive charms. After the first month, Remus was sent on another mission, somewhere he couldn’t say doing something he wouldn’t admit to, and Sirius missed him so badly, but at least he had Harry. Then Remus missed the full—or, more accurately, spent it somewhere without them—and there was this emptiness in Sirius, this gaping hole that only the Potters could fill, only Harry, who was just starting to learn how to smile, how to laugh, how to grab his hair.
He had loved Harry like his own child. Loves Harry like his own child. And yet, when— when , he gave him up. He’d had Harry in his arms, cursed scar bleeding but slowly closing, crying and patting his face and calling out for him and Lily and James, and he had handed the baby—his baby—to Hagrid. He had given Hagrid the bike as if that would help keep Harry safe, and let the half-giant take the person he loved most in the entire world away from him.
At night, when the dementors come, Padfoot can only protect him from so much. His feelings are simpler, his thoughts slower, but he still dreams. The dreams are usually nightmares, memories, but the night after he learns what happened to Harry, Sirius dreams of a small boy, only three years old, getting hit by his guardian for performing accidental magic. Sirius dreams of a sobbing toddler in the backseat of Petunia Dursley’s car as she snaps at him to be quiet, then finally stops and leaves him on the street. He dreams of Harry reaching out towards the receding taillights of Petunia’s car, but instead of calling out for her, he cries out “Paddy! Paddy! Paddy!” And no one comes for him.
My dear Moony,
Last night I lay alone in my bed and tried to remember happy times with you. I tried to remember if we’d ever taken a romantic walk along the river, or had a bookshop date, or done any of the cute romantic things you deserve but would never have asked for. I tried to remember if I had ever been a loving boyfriend, but all I can remember is feeling empty whenever you were gone and feeling empty when you came back and shagging like it would fill that void then feeling empty when we were done.
I feel empty all the time now, Moony, and I thought having you with me would fill that, but it hasn’t. I miss you. I love you. I wish you’d come home and stay home.
Dear Moony,
I just woke from another awful nightmare of Harry, abandoned, crying out for me. I can’t believe I left him. Can’t believe I let them take him to the Dursleys. I should have stayed with him, protected him, raised him. Everything that has happened to him has been my fault. James and Lily, Petunia and Vernon, everything else we don’t know; all my fault. I can’t sleep, and even Padfoot doesn’t help.
I need you, Moons. Please come back home. Please talk to me. Please tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to live without James. And now I don’t even have Harry
RemusMoony how could you I missyou i love you how am I supos
Im drunk I know I said I wouldnt but what was I suposed to do youre not here and James is ——
I’m sorry it’s all my fault what d I do now they’re gone theyre gone theyregone
Remus,
Why didn’t you visit me? In St. Mungo’s, you must’ve known by then that I was innocent. And yet you didn’t visit. Is it because you haven’t forgiven me yet?
You must know, I regret everything I said to you, that fight, kicking you out of the flat. I was sorry as soon as you left, but that didn’t mean I trusted you enough to let you back in. I loved you, and you hurt me, and didn’t trust me, and I couldn’t trust you. You’d changed, so much, over the years. I missed you even when you were home, and I forgave you even when I knew you’d been with other people because I just wanted you here, with me. But you weren’t, even when I had you in my arms you were always somewhere else, and I started to think maybe you were thinking of someone else, and I was waiting for you to tell me who it was, end things and leave me, but you never did, and then some part of me believed that you weren’t staying for me, but for the information I could give you. The credibility to the Order. And then the McKinnons died and it came out that the spy gave them up and I thought it was you.
But after you left I regretted it, because even if you were the spy I wanted you with me. Even if you were the spy I still loved you and wanted you and I was a fool for thinking you were, I know I was. James told me I was being stupid and blind, and I told him he was too trusting of his friends, that just because we loved you didn’t mean you wouldn’t betray us. Guess we were both being stupid and blind, led in circles by the rat.
I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know I don’t. And if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you either
I just have one question. Did you really think I’d done it? Did you think I’d betrayed James and Lily? Not getting me out of Azkaban I understand. Not questioning people when they said I was the traitor I understand. But did you really, truly, believe I could have done it?
Dear Moony RemusMy dear RemusMoonbeamTo: Remus John Lupin
Dear Remus,
I hope you don’t mind the letter. This is my new owl, Athena, I just bought her today. Thought it would be best if I wanted to keep in touch with you and Minerva.
I bought a cauldron today, and ingredients to make pain potions and hangover potions. I’m a bit out of practice, but I trust my own brewing more than some unknown potions master. Hopefully I’ll have a new batch soon. Let me know if you need any.
I also walked along the river today, and there are all these cute book stalls I thought you’d like. They’re all muggle books, of course, but muggle fantasy is just so fascinating, so I bought a few. It started raining, unfortunately, so I headed home and read by the fireplace instead of at a cafe. Maybe tomorrow.
How has job hunting been going? Let me know when you might be free, I think our next step will have to be to find the polise station Petunia was at.
Yours,
Sirius
Their meeting Thursday afternoon goes like this:
Sirius apparates to the local library near Hope Lupin’s new house, the one she retired to after her husband died. Remus is waiting for him there, armed with legal books and ready to impart new knowledge about the muggle legal system. They make small talk, and Sirius invites Remus to go to the little book stalls he’d found the day before, walking along the river. Remus declines.
They pore over their books and newspapers and Remus pulls out a notebook, and they begin to plan. It’s a terrible reflection of when they were children in the Hogwarts library, researching for the map, huddled over books, quills scribbling furiously. Back then, they touched freely, frequently, teased and encouraged and bantered. Now, Remus shifts whenever their shoulders brush and maintains a careful, almost professional, distance. Sirius wonders if maybe he should hire Remus to find Harry for him. Remus doesn’t think it’s funny, but that’s probably because Sirius had only slightly been joking.
After it gets dark, Sirius manages to convince Remus to let him take him to dinner. They walk to a local pub, where Remus keeps a careful distance away and spends most of the meal reiterating the laundry list of things Sirius has to do: buy a muggle place they can add wards to; open a muggle bank account; finish making their plan to search for Harry at police stations. Sirius asks Remus if he’s found a job. Remus shrugs. “For now,” he says.