Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Notes: That update to ages. –looks around sheepishly-
Chapter Summary: In which Harry discovers one difference between 'house' and 'home,' has a close call, and understands some things.
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But it was a futile hope, and he knew it. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how perfect it would be.
He wouldn't.
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Part 2: Finding a Place
Just because he knew he couldn't stay didn't mean he couldn't keep looking around, though.
For a moment he paused.
How did the spell work? He had been sitting there, and thinking about living with his parents. So then, if he wanted to go and look at Sirius' house, did just had to think about living there? But he had already done that, before. That was only part of what had started this.
Wait. He had said something out loud…was it, 'I want to live with Lily and James Potter?' No. 'I want to go to Lily and James Potter's house?' No.
Oh.
"I belong at Lily and James Potter's home." Yes. That was it. So then, to see Sirius' house he just had to say he belonged there. But maybe…maybe he should test it first. Somewhere safer. But where could he go?
"I belong at The Dursley's home."
And then…the spinning and the light and the sound and the pain and the pleasure and the light.
Everything.
Bright.
Loud.
Shattering of shards.
Too much, too little, to here, to there.
Spinning, spinning, silence.
He was lying on his back on the familiar shag carpeting of the Dursley's living room floor. There was a news report was on, and as though specifically for his reference, the newscaster announced the date.
He was back in the present. The same day he left. Why did the dates work that way?
"What? Boy! What are you…" Uh oh.
Harry cracked one eye open, to be met by the sight of Vernon Dursley's angry, purple, spluttering face. He thought desperately for a moment.
"I belong at Remus Lupin's home." Nothing. Vernon Dursley was growing more confused and angry by the second.
"I belong and Sirius Black's home." No. Still here. Uncle Vernon was now screaming in enraged and baffled words, and Harry was getting worried.
"I belong at Sirius Black's house."
Falling, light, crashing, all around, nothing everywhere, breaking, white, bright, something, nothing, alone, sound.
Silence.
He was sprawled across the cement right in front of the stairwell railing that marked the spot between Numbers 11 and 13 Grimmauld place.
It was nice to know the Fidelus charm worked with this spell, too, he thought briefly.
How odd, that saying 'home' hadn't worked, but 'house' had.
Harry stood slowly, and dusted himself off. It was cold and a little windy, and the leaves skittered across the square in gusts of autumn colors. Yes. Likely still the same present date then.
Where to go now? It would be good to check if saying 'house' instead worked for Professor Lupin's house too.
"I belong at Remus Lupin's house."
The same shattering sensation and then-
He was inside again. In a living room, it looked like, with a small shabby couch and an overstuffed, faded armchair. A grayish, threadbare rug was laid carefully beneath his feet, and the house had a cold, and empty feel to it, crumpled and quiet. He peeked out the window. A pile of newspapers lay at the door, untouched for a week or so. He pulled the door open and looked at the date on the top paper.
Present again.
How would he be able to see Sirius' house before Lily and James' death? Obviously there was some sort of difference between house and home. And it didn't have to do with the date because he had asked to go to the Dursley's 'home' and the spell had transported him there on the present day.
But how to get to Sirius' house in that other time.
And then Harry thought he knew.
If Professor Lupin didn't have a 'home' then he must have lived somewhere, but Sirius didn't have one either because…because Sirius and Remus must have lived together.
"I belong at Sirius Black and Remus Lupin's home."
Then he was gone.
And lying on a softly carpeted floor.
So it had worked.
Harry sat up slowly.
It was a flat. He could tell because there was a balcony on one side of the room. The Thames, winding grey in the rainy morning, was just visible through the space between two tall buildings from where he was sitting. He stood to look out the glass door. In one direction, he could just see the tall marble and brick buildings of Whitehall. So he was in London then.
The window was open, and a cool, sharp thunderstorm breeze leaked in, spreading across the front rooms like paint. It seemed to be an open sort of floor plan, and so, from the living room, near the balcony where he stood, he could also see the dining room, and behind, the kitchen.
Once again, a newspaper, this time the Daily Prophet, evening addition, aided him in determining the date. For some reason, he'd expected it to be the same date as it was at his parent's house, but it was not. In fact it was years earlier. Instead the sixteenth of November, 1978 was printed across the top of the page. If it was the night edition, then today was probably the seventeenth.
Harry sighed. What was with the dates? They just didn't seem to make any sense at all.
Well, at least he had found the house. The living room, where he was standing now, was painted a vivid shade of purple, and shoved against the wall was a black suede couch. One of the cushions on the couch had a large tartan patch sewn over the side, and stitched into it, clumsily, in sparkly thread was: "Full Moon Lovin'"
Harry snorted softly.
There were several portraits on the walls, most of them sleeping people, none that he recognized, except…the smallest one held a girl with sea foam green hair, and strange purple eyes who waved eagerly at Harry, she looked oddly familiar. Uncomfortably aware that she would probably report the sudden appearance of a strange boy to Sirius and Remus when they returned, Harry waved back.
"Hello!" She whispered. And then she stood up, out of the orange armchair she had been sitting in. She tripped, and suddenly Harry knew exactly who it was. "Er…Tonks?"
She grinned. "Hey! You called me Tonks. I keep asking people to, but everyone usually calls me Nymphie. It's really stupid." She was still whispering and Harry wasn't exactly sure why, but he complied to whisper as well.
"Er…listen Tonks-Nymphie…er…Tonks. Ah, can you please not tell Sirius and Remus that I was here?"
"You know Sirius and Remus?"
"Ah…yeah."
"They're pretty cool, don-cha think? So, ya know, stylish and stuff." She grinned. Harry pictured his versions of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Both raged and tired, world weary, and out dated, with matching haunted looks in their eyes.
Stylish? Not quite.
But then he also remembered the pictures on the wall at James and Lily's house. All bright and laughing, people for whom the war was not yet so real, and more a game to play. He could see Remus, still a little tired, and sick maybe, but his hair softly brown, like coffee with too much cream, his eyes bright and golden, and Sirius with his wild, shining black mane of hair and piercing, mischievous grin.
Harry could see how once upon a time, they had been 'cool'. The object of a child's delight.
"Er…they are pretty neat. But you know, when you see them again. Don't say I was here."
She was silent, and her eyes, which he noticed briefly, were no longer purple, but the same shade of green as his own, studied him closely.
"Okay."
"You…you won't tell them I was here, then?"
"That's what I just said, wasn't it?"
"Oh…er, thanks."
He was glad that Tonks wouldn't mention it, surely, but…he couldn't help but think that maybe she shouldn't have agreed so quickly. What if he hadn't meant well for Remus and Sirius at all? What if he was a Death Eater or a thief.
"You know." She whispered after a moment. "The only reason I'm not going to say anything is because there are wards on the house, and if you haven't already been spelled to be allowed in, they'll know immediately."
So they knew he was here? For the second time that day, a rising panic bubbled in the pit of Harry's stomach. And they were going to come and kill him. Soon too. And he was doomed. But Tonks was still talking.
"…the funny thing about it is that I can always tell when the wards 'ave been set off, and they haven't been, but I thought the only people allowed in without the special permission key thingy were The Potter's and that Peter guy."
Oh. Harry let out his breath in a long whoosh of relief. Safe then. He had been allowed to enter even before he was born.
"Yeah," He said back, voice still soft to unconsciously match Tonks' voice. "Well, you know. Funny how that worked. I ah…I'm just going to look for something and then I'll be going."
"Okay." She smiled, and then stretched a little, and fell asleep.
Next to the portrait, there was a tiny hallway, which lead to two doors. He pushed open the one of his left first. It was a smallish bathroom, painted cheery lime with a stained glass window.
There was a faintly lemony fragrance tinged with strawberries a chocolate, emanating from the tub, and Harry could not imagine what sort of soap had been used to produce it. Shaking his head in amusement, he turned away.
The next door he opened was a bedroom.
Suddenly, just like that, he understood a lot of things.
He understood the pictures, and he understood a lot of little comments, here and there, he'd been confused about before, and he understood exactly why they lived with each other and he understood why he had always thought there was something a bit off in the way he'd seen them hug each other or look at each other, and talk to each other.
There, in the middle of the room was one bed. It was a big bed, four poster, with black velvet curtains left open, and Harry could clearly see two form, turned into each other on the bed, one with ink-dark head and the other toffee coloured.
There was only one bedroom in this house, and it was clearly shared by Remus and Sirius, and they slept together in it too.
There were two wardrobes, and the door to one was open to reveal rows of hanging shirts, and on the ground, trailing from the door to the bed was a line of discarded clothing.
It did not take Harry long to think of exactly why the clothing had been discarded.
There were pictures on the walls in here. Some of James or Lily, and of the order members, too. And pictures of Remus and Sirius.
And in most of them, they were just laughing or smiling or looking at the camera, some even with other people, but he could pick out, from where he was standing, several, where they were kissing or holding hands or doing something equally explanatory and non-disputable.
He would have liked to look around, but his thoughts were all twisted inside out, trying to see and understand; it was hard work, all this sudden realization.
And something inside him felt as though it was intruding, so instead, he closed the door, walked back down the short hallway, and turned to look at the living room again.
To be continued…