Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Musings on Identity

Remus Lupin was not a greedy man by any standards. He had become accustomed to having to work for everything he received and he was grateful for everything given to him. He was modest and humble by nature, giving freely and taking only from necessity. He was no stranger to loss, which only caused him to be more appreciative of anything and everything he could call his own. And as of two hours ago, he had not gained a single thing that fit into that particular category. However, in the past two hours, a certain will had been found by none other than Remus Lupin himself.

And now, two hours later, he could be found in the exact same spot in the old house where he had come across it, on the same exact sofa, staring into the same exact fire. The light from the flames was now the only thing that illuminated his features as the sun had long since set, and it caused the wrinkles on his relatively young face to stand out and the gray in his hair to shimmer. His hands were folded in front of him and his elbows rested on his knees.

"...everything in my possession to Harry James Potter..."

It was not that Remus had expected to be bequeathed anything of great importance from Sirius, and certainly the last thing on his mind was what he could glean from his friend's murder, but it was just... surprising. Sirius had left everything, everything, to Harry. And as Remus had begun to understand over the course of his contemplation on the matter, Sirius was not so much under the delusion that Harry was James Potter as they had come to think.

Because Sirius would not have left everything in his possession to James. He loved him like a brother, but James would have received only a large portion. And so would Remus. Had it been early enough on, Peter would even have received as much of a share as either of them. But James would not have received everything.

Molly Weasley had as good as said what they had all come to believe last summer. Sirius Black was too in love with his past to see his present. Too absorbed with the life he remembered only too clearly to make any memories with the people he had now. But she had been angry, frustrated, and jealous. Regardless, they had all been inclined to believe her, even Remus did, but it appeared that Sirius had not been quite as blinded as everyone had come to think. His stay in Azkaban may have damaged him, but just because he saw a lot of James in Harry (and as more and more time went by, it was hard not to), that didn't make him James. He may have come to the point where he expected to see elements of James in Harry, but that didn't make him James. And Sirius had understood that better than Remus did.

Remus had often observed that during the first months of getting to know Harry, it hurt to look at him due to his strong resemblance to his father, and Remus now realized that he had not been able to look past it, even later. The vibrant green of his eyes and the way he scowled when disheartened were plainly his mother's influence, but the rest was James. And Remus was so desperate to cling to the only happy chapter of his life, that Harry's resemblance made it shamefully easy.

He sighed and moved to lean back into the sofa, his hands over his face. He knew that the only way he could be sure of things was to see Harry again, talk to him. Well, he had always been one to think before he spoke, and while he hadn't been speaking in the past few hours he had done quite a bit of thinking. He had treated Harry as his own person, he had. But that didn't quell the guilty feeling in his chest at having had to force it. He had never shown the way it tore him up inside when he looked at the son of a long-dead friend, and as time went by it became easier. He knew that soon, he would get to the point where the memory of James would be just that, not a ghost in a teenager's body, haunting his steps. After all, he thought with a bitter smile, if Sirius could do it after twelve long years of constant mental onslaught, then an emotionally crippled werewolf certainly could.

"...everything in my possession to Harry James Potter, my godson..."

His as good as son. Sirius, whether it had occurred to him or not, had followed old Black tradition in passing everything down to the oldest male heir. Because that was what Harry was to Sirius. His son and his light in a world that had turned utterly rotten. The reason he even bothered to get out of bed in the morning.

"You need to get out of this funk."

Remus scowled at having been disrupted in his angsty musings, but didn't turn to face the newcomer. He recognized her voice. "I'm not in a funk, Tonks."

"Sure you are." A soft weight plopped down on the sofa next to him, but he continued to gaze at the flames. "A funk."

Silence hung in the air for a bit until Remus could no longer restrain himself.

"A funk? A funk? Care to clarify?" Now it was her turn to remain silent. Knowing it sounded childish, he retorted again. "You're the one in the funk. I have no idea what you're talking about." He suddenly had the urge to stick his tongue out at her and call her names. What was wrong with him? He had been old beyond his years a few minutes ago and now he was five again.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't get anything either." Her comment decidedly changed the subject a bit. It was a grim topic, but she sounded cheerful enough about it. And it was obvious she knew he'd been thinking about it. "I would have liked that motorbike I've heard so much about, but I have a feeling Harry will find more use for it."

"Knowing you, you'd fall off somewhere over the Atlantic and we'd have to come find you. You'd apologize endlessly for breaking it (it would have sunk to the bottom you see) and we'd have to put a silencing charm on you to shut you up," he said, slipping easily into the banter. He was still speaking in a bit of a monotone, but she took it as the jest is was meant for.

"I'd have to go and buy a new one and pester you with questions on how he enchanted it to make it fly so no one would know what happened to the old one."

"Actually, Arthur would be the one to talk to about illegal flying vehicles. I've heard tell about a certain flying car..."

Tonks smiled and Remus found himself distracted almost completely from his earlier train of thought. They sat in companionable silence for a while, both lost in their own little world, enjoying company.

Had Remus been looking at the clock, he would have realized that a little over an hour passed with not much said or done between the pair except moody staring and a comment from Tonks about all the moody staring they were doing. It was nearing midnight when actual conversation sprang back up and he had the distinct impression of having gone in a complete circle.

"The will," Tonks began, "is complicated, isn't it?"

Right back where I started.

"Oh?"

"I mean, we're leaving Grimmauld Place, not sure if Bellatrix Lestrange is going to burst in at any moment. The main, and only, recipient of the will doesn't even know about it yet. You're sitting here with no idea what to do with yourself, stuck in a ridiculous funk. Do you need more clarification?"

He opened his mouth, ready to reply, but realized he had nothing to say. It was true that it was complicated, but it wasn't as if they could change that. He snapped his mouth shut again with a an audible click. She seemed to take the action as a not yet formulated argument.

"Don't tell me you think this is easy." He wasn't sure if she was still talking about the legal document anymore. He supposed it didn't matter.

She shifted on the couch and it creaked. He turned to look at her, a vague look of interest on his face. She must have taken it for disappointment from her next comment. "What were you expecting to get, anyway?"

One thing was certain, he hadn't expected that. What had he expected to get? Nothing. Not a scrap. Well, that wasn't true. If he was completely honest with himself, he had been sure that something, surely, would be nudged in his general direction.

"I..." How to explain? "I didn't expect him to leave everything to Harry."

She nodded, but continued to stare as if he was going to continue.

A slight cough, not necessary except to buy him time, and then he tried again.

"I just didn't think he'd leave everything to Harry." What else was there to say? Sure, he could pour his musings of the past few hours out to the women beside him, but would she understand that he was desperately trying to live in the present, but with everything that had happened recently it was becoming increasingly harder? "Sirius-" A slight flinch on both parts. "Sirius was better at living in the present. He wasn't living in the past as much as everyone thought. And I... I suppose he learned that what you have can be taken from you when you think it's safest and he was just trying to enjoy what he had."

She thought for a moment before replying, visibly trying to connect the two statements. "And he had Harry. And you. He just wanted to hang on." An inkling of bitterness was injected at this point. "Maybe it was hard for him to hang on." She seemed skeptical. It was obvious that it was hurting her to think about her cousin as having been a bit unhinged by his prison stay, but she said it nonetheless, intrigued.

There was only one way he could think to explain it. Not sure if she would understand he said, "Sirius wouldn't have left everything in his possession to James Potter."

Catching on more quickly now, Tonks said what Remus had been thinking. "And Harry isn't his father. I'd think that was obvious."

"But I thought he was." A sigh was interjected. "Or rather, hoped." Remus hung his head, the picture of shame. Why couldn't he appreciate Harry? Why, if he was truly honest, did he feel so cheated?

"Everything makes more sense now. This will, complicated though it may be, has made a few things quite clear to me."

They sat in painful silence and Remus felt like guilt was consuming him. Tonks was shaking her head. "I think you'll realize," she began, "when you next see Harry, that you've always known he was Harry Potter. Your mind is playing tricks on you Remus. You were always the level-headed one from the two of you. So just answer me this, Remus. Would you have left everything in your possession to James Potter?"

A brief pause and then, "No."

"And if you were to die tomorrow, who would receive most, if not all of you possessions?"

Remus refrained from answering while he considered. He had no family left. The closest thing he had to family was... Harry. He had the Order, but they were more... acquaintances. There was the women sitting next to him at this very moment, but that was complicated. He looked up at her and saw a small smile on her face. She already knew his answer, and he had known it all along.

"This will put too many doubts in you, Remus. Don't let Sirius make you feel guilty from beyond the grave. Just because we all thought Sirius had been a bit blind about Harry and he wasn't as much, doesn't mean you were."

She stood to leave and he got to his feet as well. He had spent too much time as it was sitting there, letting his mind play tricks on him. Remus had come to the conclusion that he had come to three years ago upon seeing Harry for the first time in twelve years. He was not James Potter. And Tonks was right. He missed Sirius, but just because he was desperate to have some part of him back, didn't mean he had to put that part into himself. It was all very confusing and he was quite done thinking about it.

Remus had never been clearer about who was who in his life. Because Sirius had left everything he owned to Harry Potter and Remus would have done the same.

A/N More?