“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.”