Disclaimer: Young Harry and all of the adults in his life belong to J.K. Rowling.
Go Back to Being Friends
Chapter Three: Three Augusts
August 1979"Not too awful," Remus said to the mirror as he straightened his dress robe one last time and pushed his hair back out of his eyes.
"You look better than that, dear," the mirror replied. "Though you do need a bit of hair pomade or something. The way your hair keeps flopping into your eyes is very messy."
"If you think my hair is messy, you should see the groom."
"He's the responsibility of another mirror."
"Ready, Remus?" Sirius asked as he poked his head around the door. "James could really use someone calm around him, and you're much more calming than I am. Daft idiot has already fallen for the 'Uh-oh, I can't find the rings' routine three times."
"Coming." Remus started for the door but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Sirius's grin. "What?" He looked down at his robe to see what was wrong. "What'd I do?"
"You look—" Sirius dropped his eyes to the floor and cleared his throat. "I mean, that robe is perfect for you."
"Tell James. He bought it."
Remus's pride had been stung that James had to buy a dress robe for him, but he hadn't argued. His own robes were slightly too short and frayed, he couldn't afford new ones, and James and Lily shouldn't have to be embarrassed by how one of their groomsmen looked. And this—this was better than any he had ever had before. The robe was made of deep chocolate-brown silk. The shirt, the belt, and the lining, which was visible where the robe was folded back on itself at the collar and down the front, were all made of honey-colored silk, embroidered with elaborate Celtic knots in gold and bronze threads.
"I know. I picked it out. I thought it would go with your eyes, the way they're brown and gold at the same time." Sirius's cheeks were flushed when he looked up at Remus again. "I hope you don't mind that I did. I mean, James has a lot of fine qualities, but he knows nothing about clothes."
Remus's breath caught in his throat for a moment. Whether it was the thought that Sirius had taken the time to choose this for him, or that Sirius had ever paid attention to the color of his eyes, or perhaps just the look on Sirius's face as he sought Remus's approval. For a brief moment, Remus flashed back to the first time they had touched and kissed, and Sirius had looked at him just the same way, silently asking if they could go further, his hands making sure that the answer would be 'yes.'
"Yes—I mean—no, I don't mind—I mean—thank you, Sirius. It's beautiful." Remus didn't know whether to blush in embarrassment or to laugh at himself. He did both. "God, I sound stupid."
"Good, so does James. Maybe you'll make sense to each other."
* * * * *
Remus sat on a low wall beside one of the fairy-bedecked bushes not far from the patio where the dancing was taking place. He brushed away a fairy that strayed into his line of sight as he watched the dancers. Sirius and Helen. "The way he moves—he's just completely and totally comfortable in his own skin, completely unselfconscious. Of course, what is there to be selfconscious about when you're the most gorgeous thing on the face of the planet?" Sirius and Ivy. "His hair is beautiful in the sunlight. Somehow it swallows the light and shines with it at the same time, and it feels like warm silk." He momentarily stroked one hand against the opposite sleeve. "It feels better than warm silk." Sirius and Lily. "Lily was right to wear a Muggle wedding gown. James almost couldn't breathe when he first saw her. Someday I'll see Sirius dancing with his own bride. He'll stare at her like he can't breathe. Get used to it, Remus." Sirius and Louise. "God, I want to move with him like that. I want to hold him like that. I did once, just once." Sirius had once dragged Remus into a gay bar—"Please, Remus, I really want to dance with you." "But here, with Peter watching, with our classmates watching, with his mother watching—no, he'd never dance with me. He's not that masochistic. He's not that unselfconscious."
"The summer that I was twelve," said Lily's voice in his ear, "my mum forced me to take an etiquette class. Quite boring. Petunia loved it." Lily sat on the wall, facing the opposite direction from Remus but leaning back slightly so they could see one another.
"Did you learn anything?"
"Yes, I learned that when one is at a social event with dancing, it is a rude for a gentleman to sit out all the dances, especially if there are single ladies in need of partners."
"The last time I checked, Mrs. Potter, you were no longer on the list of 'single ladies'."
She gave him "the look"—it hadn't worked on him when she was the Head Girl either, although it did work on almost everyone else— and then she sighed. "Well, if you won't dance with any of the girls, then go ask Sirius to dance. It's obvious you want to."
"Oh yes, I'll just tear the scab off a wound that's trying to heal," he thought. "That's sensible." "If it's rude for me not to dance with the ladies, then wouldn't it be doubly rude of me to deny them someone who is willing to dance with them?"
"I give up; you win," Lily said as she rose to leave.
Remus reached back and grabbed her by the wrist. "I'm sorry, Lily. Consider me thoroughly chastised and dance with me?"
August 1980"He's so beautiful."
"Especially when he's asleep."
Sirius looked up from contemplating his messy-haired godson to look at his messy-haired best friend. James was stretched out on two garden chairs, leaning back in one, feet up on the other. The wrought iron chairs didn't look particularly comfortable, but James seemed tired enough to sleep anywhere.
"I think Daddy is going to sleep, Harry, so it's just you and me," Sirius whispered to the infant curled against his chest. Sirius had conjured a hammock between an oak tree and—nothing—and was now enjoying the gentle rocking motion with his favorite tiny person.
Harry was beautiful when he was asleep. Thin eyelids dyed purple by the fine veins just under the surface. Pink lips parted to breathe and to drool on Sirius's robe. Tiny fingers curled into fists, one on either side of his head, alternately pressing into Sirius just slightly as they rocked. Silky tufts of black hair. It was still sparse and thin, but it promised—threatened— to be just like his daddy's some day. Sirius gently ran one finger across the top of the baby's head.
"I promise that I'll never tease you about your hair, Harry. Now Daddy's hair, on the other hand, is fair game."
Harry yawned and opened his eyes, blinking in the late summer sun. Sirius shifted him in his arms so he could look into the bright emerald eyes.
"I love you, you know." Harry seemed to be studying him intently. "We're very lucky, you and I. Mummy and Daddy love you, but they have to be parents, so sometimes they'll have to say, 'No.' But me, I get to spoil you rotten. I'm kind of like a grandparent that way, but I'm much more fun. Not many grandparents would take you on a flying motorcycle, but I will. As soon as you can sit up. Can you say, 'Padfoot'?"
"He's not quite a month old, Sirius," Remus commented as he drew near and grabbed an empty chair, repositioning it to be closer to the hammock and farther from the sleeping James. Peter, in his wake, did the same. "He may have smart parents, but I think you're expecting a bit much."
"I know, but if he hears me say it often enough, it might be his first word, and won't that drive Prongs nuts."
"His first word is going to be 'Moony.' It's much easier to say."
"I guess that I have no hope in this competition," Peter said. "May I hold him, Sirius?"
"Sure, Peter. Just support his head."
"I remember," Peter said as he lifted Harry off Sirius and cradled him in his arms.
"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked Remus. The full moon had only been two nights earlier, and Sirius was still feeling guilty that he hadn't been able to be there.
"Fine," Remus answered quickly, too quickly. He tugged at the hem of his sleeve as if making sure it covered new scars on his arm.
Sirius noticed Peter glance at Remus as if he didn't believe him either. Only Peter had been able to be with Remus this month, so they had spent the night locked in a secure cellar. Even with the familiar and calming presence of Wormtail, the wolf had probably resented confinement. Sirius had not yet gotten a chance to ask Peter how the night had gone. Peter looked at him now and shook his head slightly. It had been bad.
"Where's Lily?" Remus asked, obviously changing the subject.
"She said that she was going to take a long bath and then a nap, or perhaps she was going to take a nap while she took a long bath. She wasn't sure which."
Remus leaned closer to Harry and played with his fingers. "Amazing to think that such a tiny person can be so tiring. James could juggle studying, Quidditch practice, pranks and detention, and still find time to snog with Lily, but between Harry here and battling a few Death Eaters, he's too tired for anything else."
"Makes you think twice about becoming a parent," Peter commented. Do you want to hold him, Remus?"
"Sure," Remus answered instantly. He took the baby very carefully, positioning him first against one side of his chest—wincing slightly—and then shifting Harry to the other side.
Sirius found himself thinking, yet again, that Remus was born to be a father. "He'd be a better dad than I would. I'm the spoil-them-rotten-Godfather. It's the perfect role for me. But Remus was born to be dad, just like James." He smiled as he saw Remus briefly bury his nose against Harry's short little neck.
"I love the way babies smell," Remus admitted.
"It's the baby powder," Sirius said.
"No, that does almost overwhelm his scent, but if you smell carefully, you can smell a special 'Harry smell' under the powder."
"Do you want kids someday, Remus?" Peter asked. Sirius held his breath. Why hadn't it ever occurred to him to ask?
Remus looked down at Harry and smiled at the way Harry was clinging to the front of his robe with one tiny fist. "Maybe if things were different. Evil dark creature, remember? No, I'll leave fatherhood to the three of you, and I'll be available to baby-sit twenty-eight nights out of twenty-nine. Better make that twenty-seven out of twenty-nine. I'm a bit too short-tempered the night before. Harry, can you say, 'Moony'?"
"I hate when do that," Sirius growled as he sat up and put his feet on the ground.
"What, teach him to say my name?"
"No, I hate when you pretend that people are right to treat you like you're evil. There isn't any evil bone in your body, Remus Lupin. So, you can't be around your own kids, or anyone else's, one night a month, big deal. If that's all you stay away from them, you'll be doing better than most of the parents in the country."
"Two nights."
"I doubt that, but even if it were true, you'd still be a great father." Sirius knew he sounded angry, but he couldn't help it. Someone, anyone, treating Remus unfairly made him angry—even if that person was Remus himself.
Behind him, Sirius heard the soft scuffle of James's boots on the flagstones as he awoke and sat up. Peter looked away from his two arguing friends toward James, silently entreating him to intervene. James did not.
Remus just shook his head and kept looking at Harry. "Even if that were true, Sirius," and he emphasized the 'if' to indicate that he was not conceding that point, "what about everyone else? They see me that way and never let me forget it. Do you really think it would be any easier to grow up in our society the child of a werewolf than as a werewolf? I wouldn't do that to a child."
Sirius didn't know what to say. He could vividly remember Remus when they had first met, beaten down by too many rejections, forced to lie and hide in order to avoid more rejection. If being the child of a werewolf were even a fraction as difficult, perhaps it would be too cruel.
Remus rose from his chair and carried the baby over to James. He cupped his hand around the back of Harry's head.
"He's got your hair, Prongs."
"I know. Poor kid."
Remus dropped his hand and looked seriously at James. "You're afraid of me sometimes, aren't you?"
James seemed to consider his answer a bit too long for Sirius's liking. When the answer did come, he liked it even less. "Sometimes. Rarely."
Remus nodded. He turned then to look at Sirius and Peter. "And you, Peter? Go ahead and answer honestly. I already know the answer."
"Sometimes. I'm sorry."
Remus smiled at Peter to reassure him that he did not mind. Then he shifted his gaze to Sirius. "But you aren't. You never have been. Maybe if you were, you wouldn't have been stupid enough to send Snape into the tunnel."
"Damn, Remus, how many times do I have—"
Remus cut him off. "My point is, you should be afraid of me, Padfoot. I'm afraid of me. I'm more dangerous than you're willing to admit, and not just one night a month. You have no idea how—" Remus stopped and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he looked at Sirius again, there was a softness to his expression, an aspect of holding himself less tightly in control. Sirius realized that this was not his friend speaking to him, but his former lover. "I made this decision a long time ago, Sirius. Before. It has nothing to do with you."
August 1981Sirius levitated the toy griffin out of the trunk and made it dance in the air just out of Harry's reach.
"Come on, Harry, one little step, and you'll have the flying lion."
"It's a griffin, not a lion," Lily said from the nursery doorway.
"A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, and a lion by any other name would still have a great roar."
Lily knelt on the floor a few feet in front of Harry and held out her hands. "Come on, Harry. Time for lunch. Padfoot can join us as soon as he finishes unpacking your things."
"Slave driver."
"You would have been finished an hour ago if you didn't stop to play with each and every toy as you unpacked it."
Harry had been staring at his mother and bouncing up and down slightly as if trying to encourage his feet to move forward. He now fell onto his well-padded bottom and began to crawl to her.
"Harry and I have a system, Lily. We always play with the toys when we unpack. Don't we, Harry? That's how he can be sure I didn't forget to pack anything important."
Harry had now reached his mum and was grabbing hold of her robe to stand up again. Lily embraced him tightly.
"I just wish we didn't have to keep moving. I wish—"
"I know, Lily." Sirius rubbed her back reassuringly. He felt the same way. One attempt had been made on Lily's life shortly after she and James had married. No further attempts had followed, and it had seemed to be an isolated incident. One random Death Eater trying to curry favor by killing a Muggle-born witch who had married into a pure-blood wizard family. But recently, there had been three attempts on the lives of the Potters. Night attacks when all three members of the family were likely to be home. More Death Eaters involved in each attempt. It now seemed that Voldemort himself had selected them as targets.
James, his best friend, his brother, who always knew what Sirius needed even when Sirius didn't know it himself. Lily, the girl who won James's heart and then generously shared him with Sirius. Harry, who he loved not because he was James and Lily's son, but just because he was Harry. The thought that they had been marked for death by Voldemort—Sirius had rarely been frightened in his life—he could count the number of times on one hand and have enough fingers left over to give Voldemort a very rude gesture—but he was frightened now. He would not lose them.
"It was stupid of me to insist on having a birthday party for Harry. No one knew where we were living until we had the party," Lily said. She kissed the top of Harry's head and continued to cling to him tightly, as if afraid to let him go.
Sirius had argued vehemently against the party while alone with James, but now, after the fact, he took the same side that James and Lily had taken. "No, it wasn't stupid, Lils. You can't stop living. If you do, Voldemort wins. Besides, you only invited friends, people you can trust. I doubt the party had anything to do with them finding you."
Lily nodded and took Harry to the kitchen. Sirius returned to unpacking the toys and clothes.
"I hope the party had nothing to do with it. I'd hate to think that one of our friends told Voldemort where they were hiding. Of course, the more people who know, the greater the risk. One friend of the Potters mentions to someone that she is going to a birthday party on Saturday. Another one buys a birthday present for a child. Another mentions that he is going to Cornwall on Saturday. If the Death Eaters are being observant, it wasn't hard to put together. No one had to deliberately say a thing. But what about the previous time? What about the next time? There won't be a next time. This time the only ones who know where they're living are Remus, Peter, Helen, Ivy, Dumbledore, and I. None of us will tell. We won't."
As Sirius walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, he unwillingly found himself reflecting on Remus's odd behavior of late. After a series of ever-cheaper flats, Remus had moved once again about four months ago. He had refused to tell anyone where he was living. Their owls seemed to find him without any difficulty, and judging by the speed of the replies, he hadn't moved far from London. In fact, there were a lot of things Remus just wouldn't talk to him about anymore.
"My fault. I hurt him, and that hurt us. It's almost like when we were first years, before we knew, and Remus felt alone in the world."
And then there were those strange meetings. Peter had told Sirius and James that on two separate occasions, he had seen Remus speaking with someone on the street. The wizard, the same one both times, had disapparated abruptly when Peter approached. Remus had said that he didn't know the man, that he was just someone asking for the time. Peter had believed him the first time, but not the second. Sirius hated the sick feeling he got in his stomach every time he thought of this, but he couldn't ignore what might be happening either.
"You told me that I should be afraid of you, Remus. You're getting your wish. I hope you're happy, because I sure as hell am not. I want to ask you to trust me again, but how can I when I don't trust you?"
Sirius walked into the kitchen to find Lily and James standing in front of the sink. Lily was clinging to James and quietly sobbing into his shoulder. James was stroking her hair and murmuring reassurances that everything would be all right, that they would be safe this time. Judging by the tense look on his face, the only thing keeping him from breaking down himself was the knowledge that it was Lily's turn. Harry sat in the center of the kitchen floor, staring up at his parents, his green eyes wide as he tried to understand why Mummy was crying. When he saw his Padfoot come in the room, he immediately held up his arms toward him. Sirius scooped up Harry and carried him into the small back garden.
He kissed Harry's cheek and smiled to reassure him. "Don't worry, Harry. Mummy's O.K. She's just had a rough couple of days. Padfoot won't let anything bad happen to your mummy, your daddy, or you. I promise. No matter who they are," he swallowed hard at these words, "I won't let them hurt you. You're going to grow up safe and happy, Harry. You have my word."
--Posted February 2003