A/N: A nice long chapter coming up. Things will be gradually explained in the coming chapters - just as soon as I figure it all out myself! Meanwhile, thanks for the reviews, alerts & favorites, and keep 'em coming! We're just at the very beginning of this story.

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other. Then Sirius Black, eyes shining, as if he couldn't quite believe it, as if expelling the weight of the world on his shoulders, breathed: "Harry."

Harry reacted on instinct. Whipping out his wand, he pointed it at the man standing in the doorway, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was shaking.

"Expelliarmus!" He roared.

Nothing happened.

The man raised two hands in the air. His eyes were bright and he had shoulder-length black hair that was straggly and rough, like it hadn't been brushed for years. He was wearing a long black coat, a pair of well-worn black jeans and no shoes. He did bear an uncanny resemblance to Sirius – but it couldn't be.

It couldn't.

With his eyes fixed on him, the man said, "I'm not armed, Harry." His lips quirked. "And you really should stop relying on that spell."

Harry didn't respond. He kept his wand up and pinned on the other man while his head tried to sort out some sort of reasonable, rational explanation for what was happening. Behind him, he heard a clattering of footsteps and for a moment thought bemusedly that at least Ron and Hermione could still sense trouble happening in the middle of… other things.

He could tell the exact moment that they realized who was standing on the other side of the doorway without even turning around. He heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath and Ron's startled whisper of no way as they both skidded to a sudden halt behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two other wands raised level with his own and felt a surge of immense gratefulness to his best friends.

Harry's heart felt like it was aching. He wanted to ask what was happening, who the man was and why the hell did he choose to impersonate Harry's godfather. There was probably fifty other less painful ways of torture that Harry could think of than to see the physical, breathing body of Sirius Black in front of him. Because his godfather was dead. And it had taken him almost two years to come to terms with it.

But he couldn't seem to get his mind to connect with his mouth.

Luckily, Hermione took charge of the situation. In a tone that brooked no argument, the tone that Harry recognized as her Ron-Weasley-You'd-Better-Do-As-I-Say-Or-Else voice, she said, "Who are you?"

At that, the man's lips cracked into a lopsided smile. "Don't tell me you've forgotten me already? It hasn't even been two years yet."

Harry found his voice. "Prove it," he said fiercely.

There was a pregnant pause. Was it Harry's imagination, or did the man actually look hurt? Finally, he said, "I'm an unregistered animagus, and in my animal form I take the shape of a dog."

Ron entered the conversation. "Public knowledge by now," he scoffed. "Something else."

Eyes narrowed, Sirius took a step into the entrance hallway. "During your fourth year of Hogwarts, I lived in a cave outside Hogsmeade and the three of you would bring me food."

"We told that to the Ministry after the war, it would be easily found out through their records," Hermione retorted.

"I sent Harry a Firebolt in your third year."

"Which he boasted about to everyone afterwards, anyone who knows Harry even a little knows that," Hermione snapped back.

Sirius made a mingled noise of frustration and exasperation. "You gave me the nickname of Snuffles when I was on the run."

There was another pause as they all tried to think of a way to disprove that. Harry's heart was pounding, picking up speed by the second. "I told Ginny that. And Dumbledore knew. But…" he drifted off uncertainly, hardly daring to believe it.

"Easily found out with a bit of research," Hermione said, waving a hand carelessly in a dismissive gesture. "Especially since that lovely piece of biographical trash on Harry that Rita Skeeter wrote was published a couple months ago."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Sirius snapped, finally losing patience. His gaze landed on Hermione, and he looked her squarely in the eye before saying deliberately slowly, "Here, this should satisfy you: Remus Lupin was, and still is, the love of my life."

Startled, Harry heard Hermione's wand drop to the floor, heard her whispered exclamation of, "Oh my gosh, it is you." He turned to meet her eyes, and when she nodded, he lowered his wand. The next moment, he found himself wrapped in the very warm, very real embrace of his godfather.

Dimly, he was aware of Ron's spluttering, "He what?" and Hermione's hissed, "Shh, Ron! I swear, you're as oblivious as a teapot."

But he ignored all that, focusing instead on the breathing, livingbody that he was currently holding. "Sirius," he croaked, "you're alive."

He heard the familiar deep chuckle that he hadn't heard for two years. "Took you long enough, Harry." Pulling back, Sirius smiled; a genuine smile this time that reached all the corners of his face, made the corners of his eyes crinkle and showed off the dimples in his hallowed cheeks. "Although as your godfather, I suppose I should commend you for your extra precautions." Peering over Harry's head, he nodded at Ron and Hermione. "You two as well. Hermione, you're a smart girl."

Harry's head was spinning. "But, hang on, Sirius – how on earth can you – here – you died! I was there!"

Again, Sirius chuckled. "Eloquent as always, Harry." Then his smile faded a little as he looked around at the three of them. "I'm actually not all too sure myself. It's a bit of a long story."

"Well, if there's anything we have a lot of at the moment, it's time," said Hermione, and when Harry turned around to look at them, he felt his heart swell at the two warm, welcome and sincerely delighted smiles on both of his best friends' faces. "Harry and I have Saturday off from work, and Ron – well. I won't get into his career details yet." She accompanied this last remark with an annoyed but resigned glare at her boyfriend. "Come on in, Sirius. You've got a bit of explaining to do."

"A lot," Ron corrected, as they started moving collectively towards the kitchen. "Like what was that bit about Lupin all about?"

Hermione gave Ron an aggravated look. "Oh honestly, just because you never notice anything around you—"

"Actually," Harry interrupted sheepishly, "I – er – didn't really know about that bit either."

Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter as Hermione transferred her look to Harry. "You two would be lost without Hermione," he remarked. "Although admittedly, I thought Remus and I managed to hide it pretty well. The only people who ever knew about the relationship were your parents, Harry. But I suspected Hermione would have managed to figure it out, though, especially after having stayed at Grimmauld Place – you always seemed to be sending us knowing looks. Which is why I took the chance to say it. None of you seemed inclined to believe anything else."

Feeling guilty, Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. "Sorry about that. There's been more Death Eater attacks recently, so we've all been a bit more alert. Constant—"

"—Vigilance," Sirius finished for him fondly. "I remember."

"And you'll have to admit, having a supposedly dead person suddenly show up on your doorstep is cause for at least some alarm," Hermione added.

Sirius frowned slightly. "Hang on, Death Eater attacks? Didn't you say the war ended? Is Voldemort defeated?"

Realizing that his godfather had been completely out of the loop for the past twenty-three months, Harry replied, "Yes, Voldemort is defeated. His most loyal Death Eaters died along with him, but these attacks are mainly made by those newly initiated at his death and who have now taken up his cause, along with other Death Eater and Voldemort supporters. They've mostly been in hiding for the past seven months, but they're getting braver. We're worried they're building up an army."

They had reached the kitchen door by this point. Ron lead the way, cheerfully pushing open the door, then coming up short abruptly. "Erm, oops," he said, turning slightly pink. Harry suddenly remembered the upturned table and open boxes of board games. "Living room?" Ron offered.

Sirius peered into the kitchen, looking curious. "Do I want to know what happened in here?"

"Believe me, you don't," Harry told him, taking his godfather by the arm and guiding him back towards the living room, pointedly ignoring Ron's red ears and Hermione's flushed cheeks. He held on to Sirius tightly, still not entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

"Harry – ow!" Sirius yelped. "Harry, I'm not a squeeze toy!"

Harry relaxed his grip, embarrassed. "Sorry! This is just really surreal."

"Tell me about it," Sirius muttered. "I was as sure I was dead as you were."

"Why are you alive, Sirius?" Hermione asked, settling herself into one of the comfy armchairs in front of the fireplace.

Sirius didn't reply, he was looking around the room with a mixture of incredulity and amazement. "Harry," he murmured. "Look at what you've done with this place. I barely recognize it."

Harry blinked and looked around him. It dawned on him that the room did in fact look markedly different from when it was being used as the Order's headquarters during the war – after he had moved in, Hermione and Ginny had insisted on redecorating the place for him ("It just feels so dark here, Harry – a person can get depressed by just sitting here."). And having found no good counter-argument, Harry agreed. They had finally, after weeks of research in the library amongst the oldest and dustiest Charms spell books, managed to find a spell to vanish the portrait of Walburga Black at the end of the hallway. Any dim, dusty yellow lights had been removed and replaced with brighter white bulbs. The furniture had all mostly been transformed, thanks to Hermione's top-notch Transfiguration skills, and looked fresh and clean in warm, homey colors of brown, orange and blue. The old peeling wallpaper had also been scraped away and the walls repainted a sunny pale yellow.

He suddenly felt uncomfortable. What if Sirius didn't like it? Since he was still alive, it would mean that this house was technically still his.

Sirius must have sensed his discomfort because he turned and gave Harry a warm, reassuring smile. "It looks great, Harry." And as if to emphasize his point, he flopped down on the couch next to Hermione's and stretched out lazily.

Beaming, Harry sat down next to his godfather, and Ron took the armchair opposite Hermione. "So, tell us," said Hermione, tucking her feet under her to get in a more comfortable position, "what happened?"

###

Remus was cooking dinner, a task that usually fell to him because he was still, as yet, unemployed and spent most of his time at home. He didn't mind; there was something about chopping, seasoning and stirring a big pot of food that offered him peace he rarely got at any other time.

Tonight, it was going to be spaghetti bolognaise, which was one of Dora's favorites. He was hoping it would help bridge some of the distance that had been growing between them lately and give them a chance to talk and enjoy themselves over a meal together, which they hadn't done for a while. It wasn't anyone's fault; Tonks's job as an Auror was predictably unpredictable and with the recent attacks, it was unsurprising that she would be home late. But she had called today at lunch to tell him that she would be home for dinner. He had taken that as a good sign.

He threw a pinch of chili flakes into the sauce and tasted it. A little more salt.

At that moment, he felt a brush of wind and turned around to see Kingsley's patronus, still a haughty-looking lynx, materialize in front of him.

"Remus, Tonks sends her sincerest apologies that she is required to work late tonight. Our unit is needed on patrol, there have been several suspected Death Eaters seen lurking near Godric's Hollow."

The patronus vanished.

Remus remained completely still for a moment, fighting down the fury that was building up inside and threatening to overtake him. The fact that she had not even bothered to send her own patronus, rather sending the message through someone else's, hurt even more than the knowledge that she would, yet again, be missing dinner. He wondered when they were going to face what was slowly but surely happening to their marriage.

His mind turned to the other piece of information relayed by the patronus, feeling a twinge of alarm. Death Eaters near Godric's Hollow – the place still brought back haunted memories for Remus. The thought of anything with even a vague connection to Voldemort appearing there again made him feel slightly nauseous. Images of James, Lily and Sirius swam in his mind. He pushed them away, returning to his cooking, which suddenly seemed like a waste of effort.

As he stirred the sauce around, idly wondering if Andromeda had managed to put Teddy to sleep yet, it occurred to him that it had been a while since he had last had contact with Harry. Not since my birthday, he thought with a frown. It was unlike Harry to be out of touch for so long. He wondered if something had happened between him and Ginny.

Hesitating, he glanced at the pot. I could invite him for dinner. And Ron and Hermione too. We have more than enough.

Making up his mind, he turned the heat down low on the stovetop and headed towards the fireplace. He didn't like fire-calls, but didn't feel like he had the strength to muster up a patronus at the moment. Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he threw it into the fire and called, "Number 12, Grimmauld Place!"

He could make out the voices of Harry, Ron and Hermione before he could see them, chattering excitedly.

"But that's not possible! There must be some other explanation—"

"If Dumbledore was still alive, he'd be able to explain—"

"Dumbledore didn't know the answer to everything—"

"Harry, it's Remus!" This belonged to Hermione, and as Remus's vision cleared he finally saw her crouching in front of the fireplace, looking surprisingly anxious. Harry came into view next, squatting next to Hermione. Behind them he could see another two pairs of feet – Ron, and clearly they had another visitor. His heart sank. Probably wouldn't be up for dinner then.

"Hey, Remus!" Harry smiled; he looked more excited than Remus had seen him in a long time. Indeed, Harry looked as though he'd just gotten his Christmas present seven months early. "I was just thinking of contacting you! You won't believe what's happened—"

"Ron qualified for the shortlist for England's Quidditch team," Hermione said loudly over Harry's slightly startled expression. "As team Catcher."

"Keeper, Hermione," Harry corrected with the long-suffering tone of someone explaining something they wished they never had to explain again.

"Erm, yeah!" This was Ron, crouching down between them. "It's just the shortlist, but, well, it's a good sign. I'm really happy about it." He looked genuinely excited, eyes shining, as he gave Remus a grin.

"Congratulations, that's wonderful news, Ron," Remus said, returning the grin. "Looks like I'm actually going to know a real Quidditch star! Your father and Sirius would be so insanely jealous." He added, winking at Harry.

Harry was looking like a deer caught in headlights. He caught a look from Hermione and quickly rearranged his expression. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, I'm pretty sure they would be. Anyway, how are you?"

"Well, Dora's not going to be home for dinner and I just realized I had a ton of extra pasta, so I was wondering if you lot would be interested in joining me for dinner," Remus peered between them. He could just make out a pair of scruffy jeans sitting on the farthest couch in between Ron and Hermione's bodies, but that was all he could see from his vantage view point. "Your friend can come too, if he likes," he offered.

Hermione must have realized what he was looking at, because she did everything short of climbing onto Ron's lap in a not-so-subtle attempt to block his view. "He, er, doesn't like strangers," she said quickly. "Thanks so much for the invitation, Remus, but we've already eaten, actually." Behind her, Remus saw the scruffy jeans disappear. "But we'd love to come another time. I really want to see Teddy soon, it's been too long."

Disappointed, and unable to shake the feeling that he was being politely dismissed, Remus only said mildly, "Sure, Hermione, no problem."

"Give Teddy my love," Harry called as he withdrew.

Back in his own kitchen, Remus shook the soot out of his hair and sighed. He wondered briefly who Harry's other friend was – he usually hung out with the same group of people nowadays, so new people unknown to him were rare, but then dismissed it from his mind. Probably someone he knew from his Auror training.

The thought of Aurors stirred up another sting of bitterness in Remus. Dinner alone with his mother-in-law, again. He really did need to get a job.

So, for the purposes of this story, you can assume Dumbledore died the same way as he did in the books and at about the same time. I don't have access to my HP books at the moment so my memory of what Grimmauld Place is supposed to look like is hazy, and so I took some liberties there - hope I wasn't too far off! And I really hope that when the disarming spell is used on someone who isn't armed, nothing actually happens. Heh.