Author's Note: This story will be AU, it's pretty much the Wizarding world we all know and love, just sans... plot. There's no Voldemort or the likes; Harry James Potter is just a normal wizard, dealing with being an orphan after his parent's death. (The story really won't drabble about that, but I'm just saying for clarification.) Let's just say they were killed by a random dark wizard who is dead himself. There, vanished problematic situations. Now that that's out of the way: let us begin!

Warnings: eventual slash, Snape/Harry, and mpreg... a bit of Ginny bashing. Sirius/Remus, Ron/Hermione. Uncaring friends. And a very blunt godfather. I'm going to go ahead and rate this as M because eventually it will be, and because I feel like it.


With a large sigh, Harry pushed himself back in his chair. It was mid-August and the trio had already made their trips to Diagon Alley, purchasing their final set of books for the upcomming term. This year Harry would be taking Potions XII, even though the class made him want to grind iron against his teeth. The only perk of the whole situation was that Snape no longer taught the class-taken over by Professor Slughorn last year-and he still had the Half Blood Prince's potion book tucked away in his trunk. He had the option to drop Potions this year, but decided an easy Outstanding and a professor that actually liked him was worth the trouble.

He thumbed through his used potions book from the second-hand shop, reading the names of recipies as the pages rapidly skimmed by. He shut it with a satisfying thump and rose to his feet: any moment now, Ron and Hermione would be returning from their second trip to Diagon Alley this week. After several days of Hermione repeatidly saying, "I feel like I've forgotten something...," she finally remembered that she signed up for 8 classes this term, not 7, and promptly returned to the Alley to purchase her books. Ron had tagged along, "out of boredum" he claimed, although Harry knew that the red-head would give anything to be alone with Hermione.

Lately, Harry felt like he was a third wheel to his friends. Often he found himself alone after they both excused themselves from their conversations in the sitting room or kitchen, only to find them five minutes later in the garden together. It didn't bother him, knowing they deserved their private time together, but it did make him feel lonely. Last month, as his seventeenth birthday rolled closer, Harry wondered a lot, alone in his bedroom at Privet Drive, that if it was normal not to have a girlfriend for himself-or interest in a girlfriend lately-at seventeen? There was Cho in fifth year, but she was wrapped around Cedric's waist so much that Harry lost interest quickly. And Ron's sister Ginny had started flirting with him at the end of last year, and occassionally at the Burrow the past few weeks, but something was off about her. It felt like every other week she was locked by the lips with a new boy; the image made Harry gag. No whores for me, thanks, he thought to himself.

No, Harry wasn't one for females and their ways. And during those weeks, cooped up in his tiny bedroom in Surrey, he wondered if not women, then did he prefer males instead? The thought had never crossed his mind until a week before his birthday, and now it was constantly nagging at him. He never felt attracted to a male, but maybe he just wasn't thinking about it at the time? Usually he was so caught up in Quidditch, piles of homework, and Hogsmead that he lost track of time for personal thoughts. Now he found himself trying to go back into the shower room after a Quidditch game or practice in his mind, searching for any mixed feelings he felt amongst his teammates. There was nothing, just a careless buzz of adreneline after playing, and returning to his friends straight after. Was he really not that normal?

The fire erupted a emerald green as Ron, with a laughing Hermione wrapped around his left arm, stepped out of the Floo. They almost walked straight past Harry, who was standing in the middle of the sitting room, before he greeted them quietly. Quickly they drew back into the room.

"Harry, you should have come along; Malfoy was in the Alley, whining to his father, before a stray bit of magic nearly cleared his head off," Hermione smiled widely again, obviously replaying the image in her mind. "Although the boy, who I suspected just received his wand, would have lost his own head if he managed to do so." She dropped herself on the couch, Ron following suit. "Harry, what's the matter?"

Harry's lips hadn't even twitched at the story, not even a fraction of a smile. He wasn't really listening, still slightly trapped in his own thoughts. He shook his head, bringing himself back to focus on his friends.

"Nothing, just got somethings on my mind."

Hermione didn't press any further; if there was one thing that Harry was grateful for, it was that she had caught on that prying on his thoughts bothered him. If he wanted to share, he would tell them, and she knew that now. Ron raised his eye brows, oddly being silent for this short conversation, caring and concern never really were his strong point.

The room filled with a heavy tension, the clock ticking away in a soft rhythm. They were all quiet: Hermione looking down at her clasped hands, Ron fiddling with his robes button, and Harry relapsing back into his thoughts. Slowly, Ron rose from his seat, and scratched the back of his head.

" 'm gonna go see if mum needs any help...," he mumbled, and scuffed his way out of the room. The tension was too heavy for him to stand, and de-gnoming the garden sounded far better even than staying with them.

As Ron's presence left, Harry returned to his seat and leaned on his knees by the elbows. With his head hung, he rubbed a hand over his face. The pestering thoughts from before kept washing over his mind, again feeling like he was interupting Ron and Hermione. Perhaps he had overstayed his welcome at the Burrow for now. He looked up, to find his friend's eyes looking directly into his own. He opened his mouth several times, testing the phrase in his mind before his voice gathered,

"I think I'll be staying with Sirius for the rest of the holiday."

Hermione still didn't say anything but rose to her feet. Ignoring her, Harry stood too, walking over to the Floo and getting on one knee. Harry took a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace, waiting as the dead ashes burst into a green flame once more. "Grimwald Place," he spoke to the flames. A light image of the sitting room in his godfather's home danced amongst the flames, and finally the familiar face of said godfather came into view.

"Harry! How are you doing?" Sirius smiled up at him through the flames.

"I'm fine, but I was wondering, may I stay with you... until school starts that is?" Harry added the final part as an after thought; Sirius offered on many occassion for Harry to stay with him, but ...

"Of course you can, Harry," Remus Lupin slowly appeared in the flame, next to Sirius. Harry almost took back his request, but nodded instead. It wasn't like he didn't love Remus, in fact he considered the man as another godfather, however the thought of ruining their peaceful life was unsettling to Harry. They may think the idea is wonderful now, but how long before they realize he was a burden? He would only be there a couple of weeks, not long enough to disrupt their home together much, so Harry could deal with it for now.

"Thank you, " Harry offered a smile, pulling his shoulders back. "Is this evening alright?"

"Nonsense, Harry, come now. We're about to have a late lunch, might as well join us. This home is awfully empty without young company," the twinkle in Sirius's eye hinted at him staying there permenantly, but Harry again refused in his mind.


Remus and Sirius were a family before Harry had even known he had a godfather. Soon after his parents passed away when he was a baby, he was wisked away from the wizarding world for his "safety". He was taken in by his aunt and uncle, who were very unkind to the idea of magick or the likes. They were even less thrilled about having Harry thrown into their arms after hearing about Lily and James's deaths. However when Sirius, (at the time claimed to be the very murderer of Harry's parents), found Harry finally and the truth of the true murderer was revealed, he rejoiced at the chance to live with his godfather. Soon after his fourth year though, Remus had decided to finally move in, and Harry felt uncomfortable with the idea of living with them.

And in his thoughts, Harry had a small epiphany: maybe staying with them would help him with his troublesome thoughts; maybe he could have a breakthrough. So, pushing to his feet, Harry announced he would be there after he packed, and the green flame died shortly after. He discovered that Hermione had already left the room, and Harry sighed once more.

Taking another bite out of his sandwich, Harry listened intently to Sirius telling an old story of the four boys in their youth. Remus was smiling behind his glass, enjoying the way the memory played behind his eyes as his lover threw his hands left and right for emphasis. Harry grinned, trying hard to imagine his father levitating Snape to the high ceilings of a classroom and leaving him there with a sticky charm, as his friends watched in fits of laughter. The muscles in his cheeks ached from laughing, had it really been that long since he was this happy? The room settled down, nothing left but the three of them coming down from their cheer in deep breaths and happy sighs.

Sirius hummed a little, eating his own sandwich and eyeing Remus. They both knew that something was wrong, and feeling as god-parents (Remus in association by Sirius so proclaimed by Sirius) that it was in their duty to help the young wizard. Feeling the eyes on him, Remus looked back, nodding a little. He watched Harry for a moment, taking note of the way his face was concentrated in such a way that resembled James.

"Harry," he started, waiting for the boy to look up. When he did, he continued, "is there something on your mind?"

The last traces of a smile dropped from Harry's face, "not really... well, yes. But I cannot figure out why..." Harry's face wrinkled in confusion and he looked down into his tea. "I... I wanted to ask: how did you know that you liked men?"

Sirius coughed, choaking on air. He looked up at Remus, but saw that his old friend didn't share the same reaction. The older, previous professor only had a small smile on his face, almost as if he was remembering.

"I don't like men," he paused, passing a smile to the head of the table, "I like Sirius."

"Right." Harry was frustrated with the reply, but continued on, "but how did you know you liked Sirius? Wasn't the fact that he was a bloke bother you?"

Remus mulled over his reply and quirked a smile, "I rather find, Harry, that love was all I needed to overcome whatever Sirius was or may become."

The answer really didn't help Harry at all. He just wanted to know when Remus realized that he got off on a man touching him. Or at least the idea of it...

"I think what Harry wants to know is ... when did you realize you liked cock better than tits?" Sirius smirked, his head rolling back slightly in amusement... He was happy to see the reaction on Lupin's face. "I realized it when I was fifteen, you had taken off your shirt and suddenly I'm hard as a rock."

Harry's face was now a light pink, his face feeling hot. Okay, not the blunted response he was expecting, but... it was something. And as quickly as it left, the silence in the room returned again, each of them taking in the conversation and thinking it over. Their thoughts however were interupted as a loud knock sounded through the house. From down the hall, Harry could hear Kreacher talking to a deep toned man. Together they appeared, Kreacher leading none other than Severus Snape towards their dining room.

All thoughts left his mind as the potions master entered, his presence overbearing and demanding attention from everyone in the room. His hair was still long and jet black, framing his face with sharp edges, with eyes black as night and burning into Harry's skull. Quickly Harry looked away, feeling the heat in his cheeks return suddenly. Having his professor stare at him was nerve wrecking! Remus cleared the tension by clearing his throat.

"Hello, Snape."

The man sneered, gritting back a hello. Harry allowed himself to glance back once more at Snape, realizing he hadn't seen him in a few months. It was almost a happy moment, knowing someone from his only true home was here. He let that thought pass though, Snape was still a cruel man. And an even crueler teacher.

As of last year, after yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had quit, Snape was finally permitted to take the post he desperately seeked. Harry mused idly, he may act like he hates children, but I think he secretly enjoys filling their minds with knowledge. Maybe he wasn't as bad as everyone thought, otherwise why would Dumbledor keep him around?

Snape shifted, his hand reaching within his dark robes before returning with two viles of a mysterious shimmering liquid. He handed them both to Remus, snatching away his hand in disgust as the man took them.

"That should be enough until Christmas, assuming you didn't lose the previous batch I made you," Severus's eyes were cold towards Remus and his voice was sharp and insulting. His eyes flicked back to Harry, and he swore he saw Snape's eyes soften. "Mr. Potter, what a ... surprise." He looked over at the silent Sirius and again at Remus, then back to Harry. "I expect you will be taking my class this term, boy?" With expectant eyes, he never lost eye contact; Harry felt like he was over anticipating his reply.

Harry was at a loss of words, looking up into his eyes. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and reply. His lips were dry, so he licked them to relieve their chapped feeling. Finally, he managed to speak.

"Actually, no sir. I've taken Potions instead," Harry cleared his throat. He didn't need DADA this year, either and decided that it was better not to overload himself. The smirk that passed Severus's face was a damn fright. Was Snape insulted that he dropped it this year? "Professor?" Harry questioned the look that Snape was giving him.

"Much to your dismay, as I shall assume, Mr. Potter, that I have resigned my post as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and resumed my Potions position instead." Severus allowed the words to seep through the air, hitting Harry with the equivilant of a stunning spell.

Harry was speechless, but the first question that popped into his mind was "where was Slughorn?", followed by the ominous feeling of doom to failure-because surely Snape would be more likely to notice that he had out a spare book, scribbled on and assisting him-and finally the strangest emotion of ... joy? Was he experiencing joy at the idea of Snape being his professor again this year? Before he could collect himself, Snape had already moved.

"Well, then... good day, gentlemen," and Severus left, the front door closing with a click of the lock.


Alright then, so. There's the first chapter of it story that has been in my head for about 3 days now... please tell me what you think and thank you!