It was a strange sight that greeted Remus that first of September at the start of Harry's third year at Hogwarts on the train. The boy curled up on the seat opposite of his had shaggy black hair that fell over his face, obscuring most of it unless you happened to be straight in front of him and slightly lower down. He was holding a book he was diligently reading – Magical Fauna – and was wearing discrete glasses. The eyes, only barely visible, were of a startling green colour. The boy had Lily's hands — he noticed that almost immediately, the graceful small hands that had been quite forceful.

The tie around the pale neck was striped green and silver and the badge on the robe displayed the shield of Slytherin.

He must have made some kind of noise, because Harry looked up, then, a wary look on his face and expression guarded. Remus smiled. “Hello, Harry.”

“Sir,” Harry returned with a nod of his head.

“I'm Remus Lupin.”

Harry's eyes narrowed. “I see. Professor Snape told me about you, Professor.”

Remus eyebrows shot up. “Severus?” Then he laughed wearily. “Ah, I see. I can't imagine he had anything kind to say.”

Harry shook his head. “No, not quite.”

Remus smiled again. “It was long ago.”

“I suppose, sir. Are you a good teacher?”

“Why do you ask?” Remus asked, bemused.

“Because,” Harry said drily, “the first teacher had a vengeful spirit sticking out from the back of his head, and last year we had that...pompous...Gilderydidy Lock...hart? Each year, I expect to learn something and so far Professor Snape’s taught me more in detention and during the holidays.”

-x-

“I need you to clarify something for me, sir,” Harry said slowly, most of his attention focused on the open book in his lap.

Remus put down the quartz crystal he was preparing for the Seventh Years and looked up. He recognised the book Harry was reading almost immediately. Recognised it quite intimately, in fact, seeing as Severus had used him as the prime example while writing it. “Of course, Harry.”

“You say you knew my parents, that my father was your best friend. You even say you watched me quite a few times when I was a baby.”

Remus nodded. “I did, yes.”

“Then why didn't you take me in?”

Remus froze. “I—...it—”

Harry looked up then, a calculating light in his eyes, and nodded. “Thought so.” Then he muttered, “No one's afraid of pizza plates anyway...”

“I see,” Remus murmured, running a hand through his hair and suddenly looking much more tired and worn than usual. “Have you told anyone?”

Harry rolled his shoulders. “I don't know if you've noticed, sir, but I don't exactly have friends. Who would I've told? Besides, I'd rather not risk the first decent teacher I've ever had on the off chance that there might be a better one to find for next year. The statistics are not in favour.”

Remus looked away. “How Slytherin of you,” he murmured after a while. “Do...do people give you a hard time for not being your father's child through and through?”

“First Year was worst,” Harry admitted after several minutes, still staring at the open book in his lap, but no longer seeing the words. “I'm more ignored than noticed these days. I prefer it like that.”

“They never speak of your mother?”

Harry shrugged. “Professor Snape does, sometimes. I don't like asking him, though.”

Laughing quietly, without humour, Remus nodded slowly. “I don't imagine he would… They were very close, in school. I know James never liked it, but Lily was never very fond of...some of James' friends, so it evened out. Your mother was a remarkable woman, Harry. A clever, talented witch who would have been at home in any of the Houses. 'Act, don't react', she used to say.” Remus broke off as Harry began laughing softly. “Harry?”

“Professor Snape says that, too...”

Smiling kindly, Remus smacked his lips. “I should have known. Childhood friends often share so much many of us will never know or realise.” Remus rubbed one wrist, thoughtful. He levelled Harry with an imploring gaze, and asked, “Does it bother you? What I am?”

“A werewolf?” Remus nodded, and Harry shrugged. “Essentially, sir, I'm a Muggleborn. And… I know what it's like. Being different. So no,” he finished quietly, “it doesn’t bother me. But then…” Harry trailed off as Remus managed a small smile and Harry felt a weird, warm fluttering sensation in his chest. “Sir?”

“...but then, you don't really know any better, so to speak.” Remus completed the half finished sentence with a wry grin.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. But I understand now why Professor Snape taught me all those spells.”

“What!?”

Harry blinked, then squirmed, looking rather confused despite the guarded expression on his face. “What, sir?” The man frowned, then tugged once at Harry's tie, and at all once, Harry's expression became blank and his eyes dark. Defensively, he crossed his arms and took a step back. “Oh, I see,” he said quietly. “I apologise for having the audacity to have emotions, thoughts and feelings of my own and developing an actual personality.”

The man fell silent then, his haunted eyes flashing with something Harry thought might be regret, sorrow and sadness.

What little Harry knew of Sirius Black he had learned from Professor Snape, and while he realised that the perspective of a person through the eyes of a bullied child was heavily opinionated, it was still all he had to go on. His pure-hearted through-and-through Gryffindor Godfather, Sirius Black, who had taken out his childhood of injustices on smaller children who looked weak, different, strange – particularly Slytherins as they in a way represented his family. Harry had heard him described as rash, impulsive and dangerous. Harry had heard his father described by many a teacher in the same way, but instead of dangerous, it had been honourable and righteous.

Harry had been described as silent, shy, contemplative and distrustful – only moderately cunning and sly for a Slytherin. Most complained about how very unlike his father he was: how that could be possible when he looked so much the same?

“I'm not my father, Mr Black,” Harry finally murmured after a stretched, uncomfortable silence.

Black didn't say anything to that. Harry nodded and looked away, trying to pretend he didn't feel the hurt: in fact denying that it was even there; that pang of pain somewhere deep inside, the hurt of being denied by the one man his parents had appointed to take him in if something ever happened to them.

The door to the room opened again, but Harry didn't turn around to see who it was and merely straightened up and squared his shoulders.

“Potter?”

“Sir?” Harry blinked, not liking how his voice croaked.

A hand squeezed his shoulder. Harry valiantly tried to be strong. “I am proud of you.” Harry trembled and bit his lip and he breathed shakily through his nose. His eyes were far too wide. “Using your head and alerting a teacher, while knowing that a student could be in serious harm requires great courage.” Harry's head bobbed a little in acknowledgement; he had been terrified that he would somehow be responsible for the Weasley boy's death. “I am curious, I have to admit.”

“Sir?”

“When did you realise Lupin's…ailment?”

Harry cleared his throat and shrugged – the gesture earned him a glare, of course. “Um. It's, I did sort of wonder why you taught me all those spells and had me read all those books. I just figured that the Headmaster must obviously know, and that he had some reason or other, so I didn't really care – compare Professor Lupin with the previous two teachers, sir.”

“I see. You never cease to amaze me, Potter. Fifty Points to Slytherin. Now, go, before I assign detention for being out of bed after curfew.”

Harry gulped, “yes, sir,” and turned on his heel and raced out of the room, his robe flapping behind him.

“Mind yourself, Potter!”

Harry flinched, then stopped, turned and flashed the stern man a smile. “Yes, sir. Good night.”

The last thing he heard before the door closed was Sirius Black sneering and calling his Professor 'Snivellus'.

-x-

Shifting awkwardly outside Professor Lupin's office, Harry wondered what he had done wrong. He couldn't think of anything but, being a Slytherin, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Sometimes, much to their disgust, they were unjustly blamed even when it was glaringly obvious that they had done nothing wrong. It was just that Lupin had never done that before.

“Well, come on in, then, Harry!”

Harry started, then pushed the door open. “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't hear you.”

Remus smiled easily. “It's quite possible I never said anything, too. I am rather forgetful, I'm afraid.” He fingered his hair. “Comes with the grey, I suspect.”

Bemused, Harry said, “If you say so, sir.”

Remus sat down in the chair behind his desk and Harry was beckoned forward to sit in the one facing him, on the other side. “I…I realise I’m probably way out of line here, Harry, but I feel…I have to say this, if not for his sake, then for your parents'.” All at once, Harry was sitting very straight, his face was guarded and his eyes were narrowed. “Sirius…he spent twelve years in Azkaban, Harry. You cannot expect him to be…completely sane and rational.”

“He never was, from what I've been told, sir.”

“From Severus, I presume?” Harry nodded. “Yes, he would have felt that way.” Remus suddenly looked very tired. “I can't blame him. James and Sirius…what they did to him…” He shook his head, and swiftly moved on. “The past year I have, much like I imagine Severus did three years ago, come to see you as a person separate from your parents. You are more than their child: a wonderful person in your own worth. But Sirius…last time he saw you, you were pulling his tail and demanding 'doggy rides', Harry, with hair as wild as his fur and eyes wide and innocent. Your father and Sirius both loathed and hated Severus, albeit for very different reasons.”

Harry was scowling by then, his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders hunched. “I already know this, sir. I am a Slytherin; not anything else. Thinking is my forte.”

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I thought you might've.”

“What are you trying to do, exactly, sir?”

The Professor shrugged. “I don't know, to be perfectly honest. I guess I just remember the little boy who loved to ride on Sirius' back, clutching fistfuls of fur and pulling them all. It is the way he still sees you, only now there is another boy, this one wary and distrustful, slowly replacing that image, wearing Slytherin colours and confiding in—”

“'Snivellus'?”

Remus started, then glared. “He didn't?”

Looking away, Harry nodded. “Wonder what he'd say if he knew what the Muggle children at my primary school liked to call me… Professor Snape certainly didn't look too pleased about it,” he trailed off, eyes unfocused. Then he turned back to Remus and hesitantly asked, “He won't say, Professor Snape that is, but I get that my dad hated him because of my mum, but why does Black?”

“Sirius?” Remus looked troubled for a short while, before his eyes hardened with determination. “How do you feel about homosexuality, Harry?” Then he shook his head and sighed, “I really shouldn't talk about this…”

Harry blinked. “Homo…I…I don't know, sir,” he responded meekly.

“Do you dislike people who…prefer the same sex?”

Harry's eyes widened with shock. “Is that what it is, then?” he asked after several minutes, feeling strangely, oddly…relieved. Of all the books he had read and all the subjects he had researched, this had never been one. Out of fear, mostly, he had steered clear of the subject, having somehow got the idea that Dudley and his gang would only have used 'pansy' as an insult if it were something particularly…vile and gruesome. “Not anything…disgusting or freaky or anything? Sir?”

Remus glared again and Harry thought it really looked scary when his normally kind eyes flashed with yellow like that. “Absolutely not, Harry. Sometimes, I really hate children and their stupid insults. It's about liking and feeling at ease and that, in my experience, has never brought anything bad.”

“Okay, then.” Harry nodded. “I suppose I'm okay with it, then, sir.”

Nodding slightly, Remus fiddled with something on his desk. “In Sixth Year,” he began slowly, “Sirius somehow got it into his head that I was…having an affair with Severus—”

“Sir! Really, Sixth Year? What about all the others?”

“Oh, up until then, he had mostly just been tagging along with James. Anyway, I guess they had talked about it for quite some time behind my back, perhaps even in Fourth and Fifth Year, but in Sixth…I guess the fact that Severus had been assigned to tutor me in Potions and that we were partnered in Defence became too much for him, and he became jealous.”

Harry frowned. “You were involved?”

“With Severus or Sirius?”

“Sirius.”

Remus shook his head. “Ah, no. But he was very possessive and protective of his friends, me in particular. Being a werewolf has always caused me to look weak. He saw all the time I spent with Severus, all the late nights, the exchanged notes and the unintentional secrecy on my part as a love affair, and when I kept denying it, kept blowing him off, and yet continued to meet with Severus…”

Harry hummed, looking rather sceptical. “Black seems rather immature, sir.” Remus chuckled and nodded. “So he just started to hate Professor Snape because of that?”

“And because of another matter – that I will not tell you about – that occurred in our Fifth Year.”

Green eyes narrowed briefly, but then the boy shrugged. “Fair enough, sir. The Professor won't tell me either.”

“I'm not surprised. Harry…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Would you be willing to give Sirius a chance?”

Harry bit his lip and looked down at his lap. “I don't like being disappointed, sir, or hurt. So far, he's managed both. The Headmaster made Professor Snape my guardian after an incident before Second Year… I, I really like living with him.”

“Lily would have been pleased.” Remus smiled. “I'm not your Godfather, but I am happy that you're happy, and I think, once Sirius has settled in, he will be, too. Time, I think, is what he needs.”

“Harry,” Severus had said, not looking away from the potion he was tending to, “I will be going away for some time this summer.”

Harry's stomach plummeted. His face, while slightly paler, betrayed nothing of his internal disappointment and pain. “Okay,” he muttered.

“Manners,” Severus snapped, and then calmly continued, “I am told I am expected to make an appearance at a Potions Convention in Bern. I will be gone for two weeks and… I am…unable to bring you like I had originally planned.”

By now Harry was well aware of the Professor's tendency not to say anything he wasn't sure about, or make a promise he couldn’t keep. Like their private lessons in the summer: Harry never knew beforehand what they would be doing, because the man did not enjoy crushing hopes or feelings because of his own failures or shortcomings. So, yes, in a way Harry understood perfectly why Professor Snape chose to ‘drop the bomb’, so to speak, five days into the holidays. Had Harry known, only to be told he couldn't come… Yes, Harry thought, that would have been much worse.

“However, I have been able to make…plans for you. You will regrettably be staying with Lupin.”

“Professor Lupin?” Severus nodded curtly, but Harry smiled. “He’s rather nice, you know, sir? Maybe it won't be so bad, then.”

-x-

Remus' cottage was cosy, Harry decided as he curled up on his small camp bed. It was homely and inviting, perfectly reflecting the man's kind, caring personality. Yawning and closing his eyes, Harry made a mental note to cook the gentle man a tasty breakfast in the morning.

-x-

“Merlin's Beard!” Wide-eyed, Harry twirled around, spatula in hand and brandished like a wand. He hated people sneaking up on him. Sirius' eyes widened, and then he chuckled at the somewhat comical picture his godson made. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he sighed appreciatively. “Right now, I'm loving that you didn't inherit either James' total failure to cook, or Lily's inclination for dangerous culinary experiments…”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said cautiously. “Do you live here as well?”

Sirius shook his head. “Visiting. Is Moony up?”

“Does it look like it?” Sirius shook his head. Harry snorted, already turning back to his cooking. “There you go then, Mr Black. Scamper off with you, now, sir!”

The man obediently went. Harry refocused his attention. One more stomach to fill…Harry bit his lip. Pancakes and toast was doable, wasn't it?

-x-

“I'm so sorry about this, Harry,” Remus said once again. They were sitting under a large tree, its canopy shielding them from most of the rain pouring from the open skies and a protective dome covering up the rest.

They had been hiking when out of nowhere it had started to rain, instantly drenching them and turning the trail they had been following into mud. They had turned and blindly ran towards the tree they were now waiting under, but because of the weather, they had no way of figuring out where they'd come from.

“It's not so bad,” Harry murmured, thinking back on all those times he'd been stuck outside in the rain as a child, weeding and gardening until he was shivering and turning blue. “It's kind of nice, in a way, sir.”

By the time it had begun to turn dark, Remus had created a small fire to warm them as the chill of the night set in. He cautiously asked, “Why do you live with Severus, Harry?” Harry froze, his face a perfect stony mask. “I must admit I'm curious. Albus told me sometimes of you and how you were doing – it never…nothing I was told would warrant you moving in with a professor.”

“…or me in Slytherin,” Harry muttered.

“Oh, I don't know.” Remus smiled. “Cunning, an ability to assess situations quickly and thoroughly aren't bad traits, Harry.”

“You think so, sir?”

Remus nodded. “Absolutely, Harry. Lily would have been very proud of you, and James, well, there was no one he feared as much as an irate, wrathful Lily.”

“Oh,” Harry said softly.

The fire was crackling and enticing. Staring into it was soothing and Harry's eyelids began drooping. He was leaning against something warm and comfortable, he registered that much with a yawn. But beyond the fact that it was dry, he really didn't care what it was, so long as it didn't disappear. The sounds of the wilderness were strangely familiar; it was almost like the sounds in his cupboard when he was little, except these were made by nature: animals talking and trees moving, rain falling hard and wind blowing. When an arm came up and slowly rested around his shoulders, Harry didn't notice at first. Then he flinched violently and wrenched himself away, arms covering his head, eyes wide and wild.

“Harry?” Remus' voice was clearly concerned, and as Harry calmed, he flushed slowly with shame and tentatively lowered his arms.

“I-I'm sorry.” Harry bit his lip and muttered, “I don't like people touching me.”

“Not werewolves?”

Harry blinked and frowned. “Eh?” Then he gasped, “Oh! Right. Sorry, sir.”

Remus frowned. He beckoned him closer. “Come back here, Harry, you're shivering!” Biting his lip, Harry nodded and moved back, stiffly sitting back down next to Remus. “Do you believe in promises, Harry?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“When they are…” Harry trailed off, thinking of his Uncle, and his cousin and his gang… He had sort of believed in their promises, but he had always tried his hardest to break them and make sure they didn't happen, but then there was Severus… “When they're from Severus I believe in them.”

“Why is that?”

“He doesn't…he's…his promises are nice, sir, and he always keeps them.”

Remus regarded him seriously for several long moments, where Harry found himself incapable of ceasing his fidgeting. “So if I promise something nice, will you believe me then?”

“Probably.”

“Well, then—” and Remus arm came back, once again resting around Harry's shoulders to tug him closer. Only this time, Harry couldn't break free, because no matter how hard he tried, he just wasn't able to match a werewolf's strength. “—Here is my promise to you, Harry: I will never lay a hand on you, harm you or in any other way hurt you.” Gently, Remus said, “would you believe that?”

Harry bit his lip and shrugged with difficulty. “I'm terrified, sir,” he whispered weakly.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know. I know I don’t, but I am.”

-x-

A couple of hours earlier, Harry had raided Remus' bookshelves with a delighted grin; the man had books like his Professor and they were equally as interesting. Seeing as the weather was lovely, he had bounded outside with his treasures in tow and managed to get both himself and the books situated quite comfortably in the shade provided by the swing seat.

Swing seats were deliriously comfortable, he quickly decided, cushioned and shaded and Harry quickly decided that when he had a home of his own, he'd buy one. Picking a book randomly, Harry settled down to read.

The thick tome he'd randomly decided on was rather fascinating, detailing several charms and a variety of ambiguous ways to use them. Like the Levitation Charm, and how, if tweaked a bit, one could use it while appearing to be meditating and cause oneself to float. Rather harmless, Harry thought personally, but the author of the book clearly disagreed, claiming it to be foul and deceiving Muggles. Then there were the various ways to charm animals into doing someone's bidding by appearing very attractive to the animal in question. Like, for instance, carrying the scent of a worthy mate.

-x-

“Moony!”

“What is it, Sirius?”

“That-that boy! Look at him!”

Remus looked up from his own book and smiled. “He looks rather at peace, doesn't he?”

“It's a scandal! He's like you: a little bookworm.”

-x-

“Harry!”

Harry hummed, eyes never leaving the page he was reading.

“Oh, come on, Harry, you're worse than Moony!”

“Moony?” Harry absently questioned.

“Remus.”

“He's nice,” came the mumble as Harry turned a page. He started as the swing seat was jostled, its even, rhythmic swaying disrupted. Sirius was staring down at him, looking both disapproving and mischievous. “Mr Black?”

Sirius grimaced. “I'd really rather you call me Sirius, Harry.”

“Okay?”

Sirius studied him for a short moment, grey eyes calculating. “Do you know how to fly a broom?”

“It's still taught at Hogwarts in First Year.”

“Yes.” Sirius grinned. “But do you know how to fly a broom?”

Hesitantly, Harry shook his head.

“Ah,” Sirius exclaimed, “then we are going flying!”

Twenty minutes later, Harry was soaring through the skies on a brand new broom, an elated smile on his face and eyes half closed. Sirius, left on the ground, was staring in awe and laughing, gesticulating at Harry while talking ecstatically to Remus.

-x-

It was a boy with windswept hair and tanned complexion that Severus came to pick up roughly a week later. Harry was bent over a book, mouthing words to himself and diligently reading, but by the state of his clothes and the wilder than usual hair, the man swiftly deducted that there was something…more to it, this time.

“Lupin.”

“Hello to you, too, Severus.”

Severus sneered. “I trust you are…well?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine. How was Bern?”

Severus inclined his head. “Acceptable.”

“No new major breakthroughs?”

“Indeed not. For someone as abysmal as you, they would appear quite…insignificant.”

Remus chuckled softly. “I have no doubt.”

“Hmmm,” Severus snorted. “I trust Harry has behaved?”

“Extremely, of course. Exceptional cook, that one.”

Severus stilled, his face becoming so void of emotions that Remus, for a short moment, almost feared the man. “Cooking, you say?” Severus voice was icy, soft and absolutely terrifying.

Remus nodded. “Yes, yes. He's done that quite a bit, insisting on it and kicking me out if I try to help…”

Something Remus said seemed to relax Severus slightly. Remus curiously wondered what it was, but he knew better than to ask.

“Sirius bought him a broom.” Severus glared darkly, about to curse something(one), no doubt, but Remus held up a hand and shook his head. “Oh,” Remus said, clearly amused, “let's just say he inherited James' skills with a broom, and then some.”

Severus' eyes widened subtly. “Is that so?

-x-

“Harry.”

Harry looked up from his book, ears red. “Yes, sir?”

Severus narrowed his eyes, then snatched the boy's book away. Harry made a feeble attempt to get it back, then shrank back as Severus stared levelly at him, raising an eyebrow. “You are not yet fourteen, lad. It is far too early to think about such things.”

“It is?” Harry asked tentatively, carefully.

Professor Snape cleared his throat. “Let's save this conversation for another day in another location.”

“Sure.” A glare. “I mean, yes, sir.”

Severus closed Harry's book and gave it back. “I hear Black gave you a…broom.”

And Harry nodded, all bright eyes and shy smiles, his face flushed by giddy excitement. “I didn't know flying could be so fun, you know? When Madame Hooch taught us in First Year, I was too scared to mess up to really try, you know, sir.”

“You are aware I cannot permit you to fly at home.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Severus, I do know that. No need to further traumatise the Muggles.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Further?”

Harry smirked. “They think I'm your son. Haven't you heard? And they're all trying to figure out when you had a wife and how that could possibly have happened when you are so rude and dislike women, and, well.” Harry shrugged impishly. “It's fun listening to. Some say you kidnapped me. Some say you're using me for 'favours'. The kids are the most amusing, you know? They think you're a vampire and that I'm your special apprentice, who go out during the days and lure innocent girls back so you can eat them.”

“I gather,” Severus said dryly, “that you are doing your utmost to provoke them into even more far-fetched theories.”

“Yes, sir. My very best.”

“Imp,” Severus muttered and Harry grinned.

“But I can keep it, right? The broom?”

“If you wish.”

Harry shifted awkwardly and chanced a look up. He looked back down at his lap just as quickly again. Sirius was still staring at him. This was the third time Harry met him: the first time had been just after Pettigrew had been captured and the second time had been when Harry spent those weeks at Remus' cottage. There had been no awkwardness last time.

Sirius cleared his throat. “Uh. Harry?”

“Yes?” came the immediate response.

“Are you…happy?”

“Happy?”

“Yeah. You know. You don't think living with Snape is a bit strange or bad–”

“No. Severu’s been kind to me. He took me in when no one else would look twice at me. He cares. I like him.” He's safe and warm. He protects me and I don't want to leave him.

“But it's Snape, Harry!”

“I know that. He's my Head of House – that's how I got to know him. He told me about…when you were in school. So did Remus. I…I am not my father.”

“You've said before.”

Harry's eyes narrowed. “I'm not.”

Sirius tilted his head back and sighed loudly. Harry tensed and prepared to bolt from the room. “There's no mistake about it.”

“What?” Harry said defensively.

“It's those blasted Evans genes, all right. I told James she'd corrupt him, and she did. Guess she carried it on into you, eh?” Sirius winked.

Harry shrugged. “I guess.” Then, much quieter, “Severus says I'm my own person and that I shouldn't listen to tales of my parents in hope of becoming like them.” Harry stopped there although Severus often also said: 'In a futile attempt to make people like you.'