a prologue
In the year 1982 in Borough of Islington, London at 12 Grimmauld Place, there lived a man by the name of Sirius Black.
Sirius, who, to his muggle neighbors, did not look like much, but smiled brightly at everyone all the same, had an incredible secret. And that secret was not that he was a wizard who possessed the ability to turn into a dog, or that he was dating another man. That secret was that he was the god-father of the most famous wizard of his time: Harry Potter.
Harry Potter, who was only 2 years old and lived without both of his parents.
He lived with his aunt and uncle, whom, Sirius would argue with anyone who was willing to listen for that long, were not fit to bring him up. He’d yell that first of all, they were horribly boring, and had the greatest ability to put out whatever spark of light that shined in anyone near them. Sirius himself had only met them twice before-- once, at the Potter’s wedding, and another time at an unfortunate run-in with them at a diner.
When Sirius learned that Dumbledore had sent the boy to live with them, he’d started an argument right away. Harry was his god-son, after all. He had a right to know him. He had a right to take care of him and raise him as his own. But Dumbledore had not budged. And so Sirius, defeated, came back to his awful home and collapsed onto his boyfriend’s lap.
He’d croaked up at Remus with his grief-stricken voice and asked him to play with his hair-- something that always made his bad days better.
(Remus was used to this. Even back when the two of them were in school, Sirius would come to Remus and ask this same thing. Back then, Sirius always had so much on his mind. And anytime he needed him to, Remus would pull the shorter boy on top of him and stroke his hair until he fell asleep.)
The day following Sirius’s failed attempt to persuade Dumbledore to entrust Harry into their care, Remus took it upon himself to go to the older wizard’s office to ask the same thing. He knew how Sirius went about things, after being together for so long. He knew that sometimes, when he was frustrated, he would yell.
And arguing with Sirius was like shouting at a brick wall sometimes. Remus, on the other hand, thought he might be able to reason. But Dumbledore had greeted him with the same defiant ‘no’.
“That isn’t fair,” Remus said stubbornly, and maybe, a bit immaturely. “You say he has protection at the Dursleys, but Sirius and I--ever since he got out, we’ve been living at Grimmauld Place. You know it’s one of the safest places for him to be.”
“Are you sure,” Dumbledore started, voice overly calm, as he rose from his seat behind the large desk in the center of the room. “That you two would even be able to raise a child? With everything going on in your… Personal lives?”
Remus’s voice hardened as he felt an all too-familiar fit of anger rising in his chest. “We would be fine parents. And I can guarantee that us raising him will be a hell of a lot better for him than his aunt and uncle. You know the Dursleys. Please, Dumbledore.”
He was embarrassed that he was resorting to pleading so early in their conversation.
Dumbledore shook his head, face never showing any hint of emotion. “Harry’s to stay with the Dursleys.”
“Can we at least talk to him? Be a part of his life? We could watch over him to make sure they don’t do anything-.”
“I’ve already sent someone,” he said. “You two aren’t to engage with him.”
“That’s bullshit,” Remus said under his breath before saying louder, “who is it, then? Who did you send?”
“Severus Snape. He is to live as their neighbor to watch over the boy. He’s already bought a house on Privet Drive.”
And upon hearing that, Remus had turned around, walked right out of the office, and floo’d to the house. He was greeted by Sirius straight away-- the other man on the couch looking visibly on edge.
“We can’t talk to him,” Remus said, immediately self-conscious that his voice sounded choked up. He felt like he was going to cry out of anger. He hadn’t done that in years. “He sent Severus fucking Snape to look after him!”
Sirius jumped up right away. Snape’s name had sparked a rage in him that Remus wasn’t used to seeing, and he opened his mouth as if to yell, but, seemingly thinking better of it, reached out for Remus and pulled him into a tight hug. He winded his arms tightly around him. “Don’t worry, love,” Sirius said quietly, though his voice was shaking in the way it only did when he was really upset. “We’ll get him. We’ll get him eventually.”
***
“I have a bad feeling,” Sirius said one night four long years later, in the dim light of their kitchen. A kitchen that Remus knew still brought sharp and painful twists to his stomach. The house used to belong to Sirius’s family, and every room brought an array of bad memories for him. But the two of them agreed after the Potters died that living there would be the safest for them. “Something’s happened to Harry, Remus. I can feel it.”
Remus, who was used to Sirius’s anxieties on this subject, merely rocked his head to the side. He was in the middle of scrubbing the dishes-- Remus prefered to do dishes the muggle way, and Sirius, forever his biggest critic, would stand next to him the whole time just to stare at him.
(“It’s useless to do that, you know,” Sirius had told him, one of the first times he’d caught him washing them after they’d moved in together.
“It clears my head,” Remus had answered simply. Sirius just shrugged a little, his lips pulled into Remus’s favorite smile, and slipped his hand into Remus’s back pocket and leaned against him.
And Remus didn’t acknowledge the way that, after the Potters died on that tragic October night, Sirius had begun doing the dishes the muggle way as well.)
“Remus,” Sirius straightened up, turning away from him. “I know I say that a lot, but this time I really mean it. You know I have a knack for these things.”
Remus pulled his hands out of the sink and dried them off, then slid one hand smoothly, comfortingly up Sirius’s back. He kissed his temple and felt Sirius relax- though it was only just the slightest. “I know you mean it, Sirius, but it’s late. Why don’t we go check in with Severus in the morning?”
Sirius puffed his lips out in a pout- a habit, really, that the other had developed well into their fifth year at Hogwarts. Remus always thought it was cute. “Fine,” he said, after much too long. “But don’t expect me to get along with him.”
“I never do, love. But he’s on our side,” Remus tried, but Sirius’s pout didn’t leave his lips. Remus sighed.
He kissed him again, a sweet, simple peck on top of his head, before continuing with the dishes. Sirius lingered in the kitchen with him for a while, but he was quiet. And eventually, he grumbled out a quick goodnight and went upstairs. Remus knew it was much too early for the other man to sleep-- and he knew that on nights like tonight, when he was already so worried, that he wouldn’t fall asleep at all. He’d imagine that when he went upstairs, Sirius would be half-out the window, hunched over himself and smoking a cigarette into the cold night air.
He could remember how, years ago, the two of them had had a rift between them. The war with Voldemort put everyone on edge, and no one trusted anyone anymore. Remus was always overcome with shame whenever he thought about it-- when his mind wandered and he remembered how, at a point, he hadn’t trusted Sirius with his life. And when James and Lily died, Sirius had been arrested.
Remus had been out of the country that day. The day his life was ruined. The day that he lost all of his friends, and his soulmate had been sent to Azkaban with the blame of all of it. But he found, after the initial shock had given way to a dull grief, that something about the entire thing didn’t sit right with him.
As soon as he’d gotten back to his and Sirius’s flat in London, he floo’d to Dumbledore’s office right away.
“He was the secret-keeper, Remus,” Dumbledore said in his usual calm speech after Remus had expressed his worries to him. “What else could have happened?”
“Yes, but Albus, listen-”
“Remus, you don’t seem to understand,” Dumbledore said, standing up. “Lily and James Potter are dead. Peter Pettigrew is dead. Your friends are dead because of this man. There’s no reason to be defending him. I know you’re upset, but think rationally. It’s a good thing he’s locked away.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Remus said, feeling too much like a child being lectured. He took a step forward, hoping that his extra height on the older man would be intimidating. He’d never tried to talk over Dumbledore, and hoped that the newness of the situation may make him waver. “You don’t know Sirius Black. Sirius loved James and Lily. He loves Harry. He wouldn’t do this. I want a trial.”
“No. You can’t ask for this, Remus. You’re wasting your time.”
“I certainly can!” Remus shouted. He was losing his temper-- something that he consciously tried not to do anymore. He used to be so angry as a boy-- he’d gotten it in his head during second year that the world deserved for him to be angry. His life wasn’t easy, so why would he look at it in a good light? Why would he not respond to things with malice? But he’d gone overboard once, and James had been hurt in the mix. And he vowed to work on it. After that, he got very practiced in not raising his voice.
But James was dead. He wasn’t here to worry over Remus’s temper anymore.
“I want a fucking trial,” he demamded. “I’m not asking you for permission.”
“The ministry won’t listen to you, Remus. You know that.”
Remus took another step forward, glaring down at Dumbledore with a certain fury he didn’t even know he possessed. “They’ll listen to you, though. What’s the harm? Are you worried that you lot are punishing an innocent fucking man? If you seem so certain, why are you saying no? It’ll bring me peace of mind. And you know,” he lowered his voice and shrugged, “the more sane the man is, the more the wolf behaves.”
“Are you threatening me?” Dumbledore asked, and now, Remus noted dimly, he sounded angry. But Remus was on a roll, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. So instead, he stepped back and narrowed his eyes coolly. He crossed his arms over his too-thin chest.
“I want a trial.”
There was a pause in the room that was much too tense and uncomfortable. But Remus wasn’t about to let any of that make him lose his composure. He didn’t let his nerves show, and didn’t let his eyes water in the way that they did recently whenever anything remotely stressful happened to him. He, instead, lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow. “Very well,” Dumbledore said at the end of the long pause. And Remus didn’t say goodbye-- he didn’t remember much of what he did after that.
But then he was back in his flat.
The flat that he and Sirius had moved into straight out of Hogwarts.
It was destroyed now, a result of him hearing the news. He’d gone through the apartment like a tornado.
And then, he collapsed on the couch and didn’t move until a very pale Sirius Black showed up at his doorstep a mere few days later.
Now, Remus sat down at their kitchen table. It was about one in the morning, hours after Sirius had gone upstairs to bed. He couldn’t stop thinking his stomach into knots. He didn’t know how to explain it, but the conversation he’d had with Sirius had set off nerves that he didn’t know he was having. His mind was moving at a mile a minute, screaming the same sentence to him over and over: there’s something wrong with Harry.
But he’d told Sirius they’d wait until morning. And so Remus planned to sit in his chair in their too-dim kitchen, and worry until the sun rose.
It wasn’t even an hour later, though, when he heard a scratching at the window. Remus jumped-- the sound surprising him a little too much to not leave him shaky. He looked up and saw a dark owl. He recognized it as Severus Snape’s immediately. He felt his blood run cold, and he got up and crossed the room. He opened the window and grabbed the letter in a swift movement, pushing over a bowl of owl feed that Sirius liked to keep on the windowsill. He unfolded the letter.
Lupin,
I have been given strict orders from Dumbledore not to involve you in the general well-being of young Harry Potter, but as you and I both know, I feel that it may be in the child’s best interest to disregard those orders,
Harry has been kicked out of the Dursley’s home. He won’t tell me the details. I just got back from a trip looking for Pettigrew a few hours ago, and I found him in their front yard huddled in the bushes. He’d been there for a little under two days, according to him.
He’s asleep on the couch right now, snoring quietly as I write this. But I don’t want this child living in my home. He is, by legal standards, Sirius’s responsibility. Please collect him as soon as possible. Don’t tell Dumbledore you’re coming. If you take him, there’s not much he’ll do if Harry’s already safe in your home.
I’ll be writing to Dumbledore about tonight's events as soon as Harry is in your care.
Severus Snape
Remus slammed the letter down on the table a little too loudly and winced. “Kreacher,” he called out, and the dreadful house-elf that Sirius inherited from his parents appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Go wake Sirius.”
“Kreacher does not take orders from half-breeds,” the house-elf mused. Remus, not in a mood to deal with him, rolled his eyes. He got up and pushed past Kreacher-- knocking him rather roughly into the wall as he passed him. He almost paused to apologize, but he was in a rush, and he’d have time to feel terrible about it later.
Remus ran upstairs, pushing the door to his bedroom open with fervor. “What is it?” Sirius asked, seeing his face. He was exactly where Remus knew he would be– legs dangling outside of their window, and a stream of smoke being blown from his lips.
“We need to go,” Remus said quickly, coming into the room and pulling his wardrobe open to grab two jackets. He threw one on the bed for Sirius. “Get up, please. We have to go get Harry.”
Sirius was off the windowsill in seconds, the jacket already on. “What’s going on?”
“Snape sent a letter. Harry’s been kicked out. Now grab my arm- I’ll apparate us there.”
Sirius grabbed onto his boyfriend, and in an instant the two of them were in front of the Dursley’s home on Privet Drive.