This is the Tragic Tale
Remus was exhausted. He'd been in Surrey for two days with Kingsley, in the background trying to be unobtrusive as the Ministry scrambled to sort the nightmare playing out around the Dursley home. Kingsley dealt with the Muggle law enforcement with Remus left, for the most part, to communicate with Harry's relatives.
Properly meeting Lily's sister had been surreal. Remus saw nothing of the girl he knew in this woman. Though Remus' sincere condolences were not warmly received, she had been far less hostile than her husband. It was tiring dealing with Mr. Dursley and the conflicting impulse Remus had to both comfort a grieving parent and plant his fist into the face of perhaps the most difficult and dislikable man he'd ever met. And that was saying something, considering Remus was acquainted with Severus Snape. He couldn't fathom how Harry had managed to survive so long under this man's roof with his sanity and optimism as in tact as they appeared to be. Such a childhood would have undoubtedly broken those of lesser character, and Remus bore the boy an enormous new respect.
The bonfire had already been blazing in the back garden when they arrived, by chance, before the fire engines; far too late to salvage any of Harry's belongings but early enough to neutralize any remaining magic in the charred remains, obtain the information they needed, and head off any real damage. What followed had been tedious and heartrending. If they hadn't already been on their way to retrieve Harry's things, it might have been much harder to control the fallout. The Muggle police had in no way been convinced of Harry's guilt, despite Vernon's vehement assertions. They saw only an accidental overdose by a boy with whom they'd had run-ins before -and the Ministry ensured their toxicology results would reflect precisely that- but they were still looking for Harry as an endangered runaway. Fortunately (but depressingly) the Dursley's had not a single photo of Harry to provide the police to aid their search. And with the expedient burning of Harry's personal effects, which had commenced after the police had expressed they were not inclined to consider Harry a suspect, there was no evidence left whatsoever that a boy named Potter had ever stepped foot in 4 Privet Drive, much less that he'd lived there for fifteen years.
It broke Remus' heart and made him almost blindingly angry. And though he felt guilty for thinking it, he really concluded that people capable of such prolonged and intentional cruelty did not deserve a child of their own, regardless of the influence the chastity spell might have had on their actions. That level of abuse was inexcusable for any reason. He resented the feeling but could not shake it.
But as difficult as the last few days had been, Remus knew the next few minutes might prove the hardest. He should have known that agreeing to act as godfather to Harry Potter would be a daunting task, though he hadn't expected it to be so so immediately. He had no idea if Harry held any love whatsoever for the boy who died in his stead but, regardless, the news couldn't help but be upsetting. And Remus would have to be the one to deliver it. Reluctantly, he rapped quietly on the boys' door.
"Is Harry awake yet?" he inquired softly when Ron answered. But it was not the ginger who answered his question.
"Remus!"
Remus stepped into the room and searched for the owner of the happy voice that greeted him, hating that he was about to snuff the boy's enthusiasm; but he almost failed to notice Harry kneeling between the room's twin beds. When he did locate him, his heart fairly stopped. Remus had been so preoccupied with the aftermath of the attempt on Harry's life, he had practically forgotten about his forbidden attraction to the boy. But the sleek, bare torso peeking from behind Ron's bed quickly reminded him, further complicating an already difficult situation. Harry leaned forward against the mattress, head cocked questioningly, but Remus had turned away. He cleared his throat, wondering desperately if he could manage this errand without looking at the boy.
"Excuse me," he rasped. "I didn't realize you…" It was no good, he thought, trying to find somewhere to rest his eyes besides Harry's bare chest. Maybe if he'd prepared himself beforehand. But even then, he wouldn't have expected the boy to be in a state of undress. "Perhaps it would be better…" he stammered. Bloody hell. Remus couldn't even manage to excuse himself. "I'll come back later," he mumbled, stepping back toward the door.
"No!" Harry objected rising to his feet. "I'm not busy or anything. I just woke up is all."
The hopeful entreaty in his voice was impossible to miss. Remus glanced over his shoulder at him. Thank the gods he at least wore trousers. Remus didn't think he could have handled the young man in just his pants. This, however, might be doable. He clearing his throat again. "Yes. Well. Ron, would you excuse us, please?" he requested politely. Besides the sensitive nature of the news he was about to deliver, Remus knew he was behaving oddly and was less than comfortable with the way the other boy was looking at him.
Ron shrugged. "What for? He's gonna tell me anyway." Remus bit back a curse.
"Go on, Ron," Harry prompted thoughtfully, as if he could tell Remus was struggling. "I'll meet you downstairs in a bit."
"Not going downstairs," Ron protested. "Was going to Ginny and 'Mione's room."
"Then I'll meet you in Ginny and 'Mione's room," Harry said impatiently. Reluctant, but arguing no further, Ron shrugged and left. Remus closed the door securely behind him but didn't turn around.
"So what's up?" Harry asked brightly.
"Harry, don't you think you ought to put on your shirt?" Remus said, hand still on the doorknob as if he was considering a speedy escape. He hadn't intended the comment to be so sharp. If Harry thought anything of it, he didn't let on.
"Can't find it," he explained, unfazed. "I'll have to wear one you've brought me." The comment reminded Remus of the sad purpose of his visit. He sighed, chastised himself for the dozenth time, and finally turned to look at Harry. Though, he was still reluctant to make eye contact. As distracting as the rest of him was, Remus seemed to have a special weakness for the young man's eyes, was unsettled by the thought they might see something damning in Remus' own.
"Actually, that's what I've come to talk to you about," he told Harry anxiously. Harry scrunched up his nose in confusion.
"Um...you wanna sit down or something?" he offered, yanking at his trouser leg and sitting himself.
"Oh no," Remus said very quickly but, after another furtive glance, changed his mind. He was the adult here. He needed to behave as one. Haltingly, he took a seat on the corner of the bed furthest from Harry.
"About your things," Remus began. "Actually, about your relatives, Harry." Good gods. How does one even go about explaining such a situation? Especially with such a distraction. Where was he to begin? "Are you sure you can't find your shirt?" he asked sheepishly to the floorboards, dreading the coming revelation.
"I've not looked very well," Harry shrugged. "Why are you on about my shirt?"
Remus looked up at him sadly. Judging from the size of the blaze, the boy had had so little to begin with, and now Remus had to inform him that little bit was gone forever. "Because it's the only one you'll have until we make it over to Diagon Alley to buy you some new ones," Remus said apologetically.
"What?" Harry asked with a small laugh, as if thinking for a moment this was a joke. "Why?"
Remus sighed. "Because you don't own another," he reluctantly explained. "In fact, you don't have anything at all anymore except your wand and the clothes you came in." He could tell the boy was becoming aggravated with him, and he couldn't blame him.
"Plain. English," Harry requested tersely. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger.
"Harry, you see, the Dursleys…" Might have lost their minds? "Well, it's your cousin." Harry was giving him an impatient but apprehensive look. Perhaps he should try another tact. Remus took a very deep breath and fished the colorful paper candy straw Kingsley had lent him from his pocket. "Harry, have you ever seen one of these?" They'd tested it thoroughly but would of course be needing it back. It was such a delicate situation, however, Kingsley did not feel Harry should be interrogated by a Ministry official. He'd given Remus the straw with instructions on what information he'd like to glean from Harry. If there was any to glean.
"Yeah. Ron sent me one for my birthday," Harry shrugged. "The twins made it. But I left mine behind," Harry explained quickly, as if urging the man to get to the point.
"Did you give it to your cousin?"
"No," Harry began, but recanted. "Well, yes, sort of on accident. I gave him the box of chocolates Hermione sent me, and I forgot that I dropped it in there."
"Did your aunt and uncle see you give it to him?"
"Yeah, why? What's going on?" Harry asked, clearly growing unsettled.
Remus studied Harry's face, hoping the blow would not be too much for him. "Harry, your cousin is dead," he said gently.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Harry looked at Remus skeptically, then started to smile, as if he suspected Remus was having him on. But Remus' grim expression made him pause. Remus could see the moment the truth of the matter finally broke through Harry's denial.
"Dead?" Harry whispered. Remus nodded sadly.
"Poisoned," he explained. "It took quite a bit of doing, but we managed to get this from the Muggle policemen," he said, referring to the now empty straw.
"You mean it was the candy?" Harry blinked. "But Ron's tried them, too," he rushed to explain, "and he's just fine."
"No. It wasn't candy, Harry. The candy had been replaced with a poison." Harry shook his head, not comprehending, then gasped and looked back up at Remus.
"Wait...surely you don't think Ron or-"
"No, of course we don't suspect Ron or the twins," Remus assured him quickly. "But we do think Ron's letter was intercepted." And of course, now Hedwig's injuries made perfect sense. That was news Remus knew he'd have to deliver soon, as well, but not just yet. He didn't want to overwhelm the boy.
Remus watched him process the information, perhaps replaying the morning in question in his mind. Remus wasn't sure what was passing through Harry's thoughts, but there was a momentary, frantic anguish that flashed across his expression before he sobered and seemed to stare off into space. Remus wasn't certain yet, though, if the boy required comfort.
"Dudley's dead," Harry said dazedly. Then his eyes flashed with panic. "I didn't mean to," Harry blurted. Tears were rising in his eyes, gently breaking Remus' heart that he would blame himself. "I...I didn't know," he insisted shakily.
"Of course you didn't, Harry," Remus consoled, laying a comforting hand on Harry's knee. He really felt he should have done more. He wanted more than anything to do more, to wrap the youth in an embrace, to take his pain from him. And not just from this, but all of it. Remus wanted to show him all the love and affection Harry'd obviously been denied as a child, to soothe the sting of the countless injustices he'd experienced since. Remus had once thought escaping to the Dursley's had been a kind of reprieve for the boy and the recurrent dangers he faced in their world, but now the man knew better; that it had been the other way around. How sad that a life so fraught was the lesser of evils. Remus would take it upon himself to be a true sanctuary for the boy from now on, but he didn't trust himself to embrace him just yet, and it made him burn with self-loathing. "We aren't blaming you at all," he assured him, "but we've got to be very careful from now on. They came much too close this time."
Harry nodded glumly. "Do they know? I mean, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, do they know that the poison was...meant for me?" he asked timidly.
Remus hesitated. "They seem to believe you did it yourself," he said slowly. "They think that's why you disappeared. They had the Muggle law enforcement looking for you. Of course the police aren't so sure," he assured him quickly. "Dudley ran with a tough crowd. They think his death involves drugs...or at least, if they didn't before they do now. The Ministry has been working since day before last to get it all straightened out. But yes," Remus informed him sadly, "your relatives are blaming you."
"Me?!" Harry sputtered, hurt and shock flashing across his expression before it settled into anger. "So is that why they wouldn't give you my things?" Harry demanded, jaw clenched. "Couldn't you have just taken them?"
"I couldn't take them, Harry, because there was nothing left to take," Remus confessed. "Your Uncle destroyed everything. All evidence you ever existed at Privet Drive." Harry was absolutely livid. "It's unfortunate," Remus said, watching him unsuccessfully attempt to reign in his temper. "But I'm afraid, all things considered, you won't be able to return."
"I wouldn't go back if they begged me on their hands and knees!" Harry spat bitterly.
"You don't understand, Harry. You've lost your only real safe haven."
"As long as Dumbledore is secret keeper, I'm safe here," Harry argued.
"It's not the same kind of protection, Harry. Not as secure."
"I should have come here before, anyway," Harry went on as if Remus hadn't spoken, growing more and more upset. "I should have come last summer, while Sirius..." Harry choked on the remainder of his sentence.
Instead of comforting him further, Remus withdrew his hand and looked away, drawing a painful breath himself. He couldn't bear to touch the boy and think of Sirius. His grief was still too fresh and his shame too sharp. Sirius had wanted so badly for Harry to come live with them, but his safety had been far more important.
"My Firebolt. Remus," Harry said, pulling Remus from his unexpected misery. "Please tell me he didn't-" Harry had barely started his sentence before Remus frowned at him sadly and began to shake his head.
The statement seemed to tip Harry's anger into proper rage. Every muscle in Harry's body was taut. He clenched and released his fists, flexing his arms in a near futile attempt to reign in his anger. Sirius vanished from Remus' mind. All Remus had the capacity for was the rippling display playing across Harry's upper body. His fervor for Quidditch had sculpted his already impressive torso into something almost sinful. Something only hinted at when those muscles were at rest but which would be sufficiently evident in the act of-
Remus abruptly realized that Harry had gone still and he ripped his gaze from the young man's flesh and met his eyes, startled. He saw Harry shiver. Remus flushed badly and jerked his eyes away, suddenly restless and stammering.
He'd failed them both. His weakness was inexcusable.
"I suppose we'll have to get you some new things this week, first thing," he muttered. "I do believe your Hogwarts letters have come in this morning. Yes. So it will be quite convenient."
But Harry didn't respond. He simply stared at Remus, and it felt as if he was reading the man's guilt in every line of his shocked expression. Remus had to leave. Immediately, before he made matters worse.
"If you can't find your shirt," Remus continued to the far wall, standing suddenly, "perhaps Ron can lend you one. Though you aren't the same size. Let's see, I might have one." He was practically babbling at this point, saying whatever came to mind to distract them both from his indiscretion. "Then there's always...Sirius' closet," he said, voice trailing off to a hoarse whisper.
Remus felt his shame might be terminal. He glanced at Harry, wanted to say something else, but abandoned it and strode hastily to the door. There he stopped, half-way through. He swallowed hard and wet his lips, and chanced another glance over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Harry," he said softly, before slipping through the door and striding quickly to his own room to try and quiet his disgraceful arousal; all the while hoping the young man didn't understand what Remus had really been apologizing for.