Remus was drinking tea and grading papers when Harry entered his office. Despite having the walk over here to think about how he should phrase what he wanted to say, Harry knew there was no easy way. He wasn’t even sure he wanted the answer. But it was near the end of the year and Harry didn’t know if he’d get another chance to find out, so it had to be now.
Professor Lupin looked up from the parchment he was providing feedback on and gave Harry a warm smile. That was something Harry could always count on his professor for: a welcoming familiarity Harry used to only associate with Hermione and the Weasleys. It came in the sweaters he always wore, in the scent of chocolate that reminds Harry of when they first met. “What can I do for you, Harry? Would you like some tea?”
Harry almost forgot to acknowledge the man he had just interrupted, too lost in his own thoughts. “Er, yeah. Cheers.” Lupin didn’t say anything else as he readied the drinks. He was letting Harry control the situation.
Slowly Harry did a sweep of the professor’s office. Of course he had been inside on numerous occasions and not only when it belonged to Lupin. Harry thinks he prefers it best with Lupin’s things; the walls are lined with obscure books and various knick-knacks. He even sees some muggle band posters: Queen and The Who. He thinks he recognizes a Bowie one as well, though it had obviously seen better days before being pushed aside for The Smiths. Seeing the evidence that Remus had lived a semi-normal life before Harry was even reminded him of why he was here. He took the seat opposite Lupin and sipped the fresh tea.
Deciding to man up and be the Gryffindor he is, Harry meets Remus’s eyes. He’s thankful for the professor’s open expression, though for a second he almost wished to be met with disdain, at least then he wouldn’t have to ask. “I know this, er, might not be something you want to talk about, but I need to know,” Harry paused and Remus gave him a nod of encouragement. “So you said you were friends with my mum when you went to Hogwarts.”
Harry stopped for another second, glancing down and giving Remus an opportunity to reply. “Lily and I were very good friends. Prefects together, even.”
Seemingly satisfied, Harry continued. “Did you ever meet Petunia?”
Remus thought for a second, not knowing where Harry was going with this. Remus didn’t know much about Harry’s childhood besides the fact he was sent to live with Petunia, and the kid hadn’t been overly open about it. He thought back on everything he remembered about Lily’s older sister, which wasn’t much. Lily whinged about her a lot, but that seemed to mainly be tied to Petunia’s boyfriend. Other than that, he didn’t know much. “I met her once. At James and Lily’s wedding, but we didn’t talk.” Remus almost felt bad he couldn’t offer more.
Harry sat there, nodding into his tea. Ruminating. Remus took a sip of his own, willing to give Harry the time he needed.
Harry met his eyes after another stilted moment. Remus could tell he was fighting with himself to get his next words out. He tried to put on an encouraging expression.
That must be the final push Harry was looking for. “Why didn’t you take me in? After the night my parents died? If you were such good friends,” Harry said the word with such vitriol that Remus flinched, “why did you leave their only kid to such horrid people?”
It was Remus’s turn to stare into his tea. He wished he had pressed Harry for more details about his childhood prior to this conversation. He wished he had thought to check up on Harry’s well-being all those years. Remus was overwhelmed by the shame Harry’s question brought to him. Just another thing the werewolf yob fucked up.
Knowing he was taking too long to answer, Remus chanced a glance up towards Harry, taking in his whole person. Harry showed his emotions similar to how James did. Right now Remus could tell it was taking everything Harry had to try and not be angry at Remus; Remus was transported back to his own fourth year when Prongs had regarded him in the very same way when he was still jealous of Remus’s accidental date with Lily. Shaking himself out of the memory, Remus rested his gaze on his desk. The smooth stained wood, a no man’s land between him and those familiar, scornful, imploring, bespeckled eyes.
He sighs. “I need you to understand something about back then,” he started in a monotone, almost as if he were actually talking to the desk. “We were all 21, just barely out of Hogwarts ourselves and shoved into a war. No one would even think about hiring a werewolf back then.” Remus broke off, desperately searching for a better way to get his point across. He meets Harry’s steely gaze once again. The kid, because that’s what he is, hadn’t moved a muscle since they started talking.
The silence seemed to only frustrate Harry more. He came here for answers, and here Lupin was talking about the war as if Harry wasn’t –isn’t being– raised in it. “Yeah, and I was just a kid,” he spat back. “Did you even care about me? Or them?”
Before he could stop it, Remus let out an “Oh, Harry,” in such a gentle tone. Harry despised that tone. Remus decided to change his approach. “Did you know that on the day you were born Padfoot was so nervous he hadn’t slept for a full day while Lily was in labor? We camped out in that waiting room, drinking that shitty hospital tea for 24 hours.” He chuckled, “James was also a nervous wreck, kept hurrying between us and Lily. I was on ice chip duty to keep Lily hydrated.” Despite the tense atmosphere, Remus found himself smiling at the memory. “But then James came out of the room again and told us it was a boy. We ragged on him for the name Harry.” That, at least got a ghost of a smile on Harry’s face. “But the moment he said he wanted us to be godfathers? The moment I first held you, when you squinted up at me, and later when you would crawl towards me and ask for me to read you a book? Those were some of the happiest moments of my life,” he paused but only for a second this time, “and I know Padfoot feels the same.”
They both let that sit between them. Allowed it to occupy no man’s land. Harry’s expression had shifted away from anger towards hurt and confusion. Before Harry could say anything, Remus continued, growing more cynical, “But I didn’t have a job, I was living alone in a half-empty flat with three of my best friends presumably dead and my fucking boyfriend in Azkaban.” Remus tried to not regret his confession as he searched Harry’s face for any reaction to his and Sirius’s relationship. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as he recontextualized everything he knew about his father’s best friends. Remus put on a rueful, self-pitying smile, if only to diffuse the tension.
It didn’t work.
“You see, Harry,” he cleared his throat, “that was a…dark time for me. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I spent more time alone and drunk than socializing or sober. I had no one left. I was betrayed and angry. I couldn’t take care of myself, let alone an infant.” He let that hang, hoping Harry was satisfied. He had no other choice.
“But you had eleven years,” Harry sounded like he was on the brink of tears. And he was. Given the information Lupin just gave him, he didn’t know what to think. The Remus sitting before him was smart, quick-witted, mischievous, nurturing, all stuff he’s heard about James. Everything he could want in a father. How could this man who’s achieved so much even while being a werewolf know such a rock bottom?
The more he thought about it, the more he could almost understand. How would he react if all the Weasleys died and Hermione got sent to Azkaban for it? But in that case, Harry would have people to turn to. Hagrid, Dumbledore, McGonagall. Hell, he still lives with Petunia and Vernon, even if they don’t want him.
But Remus had nobody.
“What about Dumbledore?” Harry tacked on, almost as an afterthought.
Remus let out a bitter chuckle, “I don’t trust that crazy old man any further than I can throw him. I was only here this year to make sure Sirius didn’t kill you.” That was yet another surprising thing Harry learned about his professor. Harry never stopped to question his loyalty to Dumbledore. He’s the headmaster and the one who got Harry into Hogwarts in the first place. He’s the smartest wizard out there.
“Whaddya mean? How could you say that? He’s our best chance against Voldemort.”
Remus gave Harry another appraising look. He knew how Harry talked about Dumbldore, as if the old coot could actually win the war and everything would be great. As if he actually cared about Harry. Remus tried another approach, “I don’t wish to influence your opinion of him, but I do advise you to proceed with caution when it comes to Albus Dumbledore.” Harry seemed to accept that when Remus offered no further information. Dumbledore had mistreated Remus, James, Lily, Mary, Marlene…Sirius, but he could have changed, he thought without much hope. But Harry seems happy around the headmaster, so Remus leaves it there.
Harry schools his expression back to neutral. “Why didn’t you come to see me? Before Hogwarts?” Harry asked again.
Remus started fiddling with his tea cup. “I tried to. When you were about five or six, I tried to visit, but Vernon said no. I suppose I should’ve fought, but I was in no state. Was drunk, to be fair.” He sipped his tea, if only so he had an excuse not to look at the kid sitting across from him. The kid he maybe not wronged, but didn’t do right by. Remus’s voice had taken on an empty tone. “I saw you at the park a couple times after that. Keeping my distance. More for myself than for you, I’m afraid. Had to reassure myself that Prongs’s kid was still alive.”
That seemed to flare Harry’s anger. “So you can stalk me, but not say hello?! You couldn’t let me know someone cared about me?” Harry’s voice broke. He wore a confused expression, as if he hadn’t meant to share that last bit.
It broke Remus’s heart nevertheless.
Remus tried to remain gentle. These were his actions, and he had to own up to them. “What was I supposed to say? Hi, little prongslet, I was best friends with your dead parents. You look so much like your dad that every time I look at you I see James lying lifeless, discarded on the floor of his own home. When I look into your eyes I want to punch myself because I let Lily die?” He knew that was cruel; he also knew it was still true, not that he would tell Harry. Remus ran a hand through his hair. This is not how he wanted this to go. “I would’ve only hurt you, Harry. At least with Pet,” the nickname rolls off his tongue before he comprehends it, but he immediately regrets it. That was how Remus had always heard Lily refer to his sister. Harry doesn’t say anything. “At least there you would have food and clothes and safety. I’m a werewolf, Harry. You wouldn’t have been safe. I wasn’t strong enough.”
Remus studied Harry. It was the truth, and Remus knows if he had to do it over again, he probably would do the same thing. He would’ve loved if his first instinct was to rush to save Harry, to keep this last bit of James alive. But he had needed to cope with Sirius. Sirius, who always occupied Remus’s mind; who had demanded most of Remus’s attention ever since they were eleven. Who Remus thought had betrayed every one of them, who had been pulling away from Remus for months before the incident. So much of Remus’s life force –his will to live– had come from the light –the energy– that Sirius emanated. Even when it was rocky near the end, Sirius was his reason to wake up every morning. His prize at the end, when everything went back to normal and they could once again spend their days listening to music, smoking spliffs, and shagging.
Remus looked back up at Harry and something passed between the two. Whether it was understanding or resentment Remus didn’t know, so he said the only thing he could. “I’m sorry, Harry.” The boy nodded, fighting back tears once again.
Remus offered him some chocolate. They ate in silence, both now hyper-aware of the ticking clock on the wall. The light shining in through the window despite the later hour served as a reminder of the impending summer.
Without thinking of the ramifications, Remus decided his next course of action. “I have a place in Soho. Well technically it’s Sirius’s, but I live there. It has an extra bedroom if you’d like it. I can’t promise much of anything, but it’s yours.”
Immediately Harry started nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
They were both sporting watery grins. They both got up and walked around the desk, meeting in the middle for a hug. Remus knows he can’t go back and change what happened, but he can ensure a better future for Harry.