Replacement
Remus knows what everyone wants as he finds himself sitting alone with Harry in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The members of the Order have been maneuvering moments like this from the first step Harry took inside the house this summer.
They think young Harry is in need of guidance. He needs a shoulder to cry on. The boy needs a role model and a confidant. And, quite unanimously, they've selected him for the position. He can almost hear the squeaky cogs in their heads as they roll on to that conclusion.
Of course Remus is the perfect candidate. A member of the Marauders. Close to Lily and James. He has the right personal history to endear himself to the family-starved Boy Who Lived. He is a former teacher who was genuinely liked by the children he'd taught. He knows the pain of being singled out for things he has no control over. He knows the fear of being at battle with himself and doubting his own sanity.
In theory, he has all the right credentials. He fits the bill perfectly. Less of a bully then James had been in his younger years. More stable, calm and patient then Sirius had been. Not as caustic or vindictive as Snape. He is the one they'd always wanted Harry to turn to and look to for advice. He can see that now in the way that they continually shoved the boy at him. It's in the cute little comments they make and the knowing looks they exchanged with each other.
Well, Remus decides, looking at the glaring boy across from him at the table, the joke is on them.
Because he's not sure he wants the position that they keep volunteering him for. He's not good on trusting. He doesn't like sharing. And he's loathe to delve into his times with the Marauders because they are his times and his memories and they are better left in the past. Since the past is pain, he doesn't see why he should be the one to bleed himself dry. He can't help the boy through something he hasn't gotten through himself yet.
He's not interested in being Daddy Dearest anymore than Harry is willing to let him play the part. As far as he's concerned, Harry doesn't need a keeper. It's already far too late for that.
"You're not him," Harry warns, obviously not wanting to hear platitudes or indulge in a heart to heart.
"No, I'm not," Remus admits freely. Because he's not James. He's not Sirius. All he can be is himself, and right now that isn't what Harry wants.
He can't replace them, and he refuses to try.