LINER NOTES:

I apologise now - part of this chapter is going to be a bit corny (Remus-as-rock-player sprang from Haruka-singing-with-the-

stereo-daydreaming-and-doing-dishes-all-at-one-time and now I can't picture him as anything but an avid guitar player) and

it's my fault (see note in the last parentheses). After this chapter things are going to pick up - a LOT - as ? gets his first letter

from Remus! Also, I can't decide, so I'm asking you all to please "vote" in your review or in an email to me: Should Harry be

allowed to stay in the flat alone on the condition that he doesn't leave the flat for anything (barring a fire or something,

obviously), or should he be forced into being "babysat" when Remus is away?

A/U WARNING: Yes, we're still in the wonderful world of mild A/U. The current A/U elements: 1. Dumbledore has allowed

Harry to leave the Dursleys and live with Remus. 2. Remus is in a rock/dance band (no, I didn't make him a world-famous

rock star, it's just a local gigs-in-bars kind of thing). 3. Remus goes a little bit "little kid" in here (I was trying to show his inner

Maurader coming through, but it doesn't want to write very well). Not annoyingly so, I don't think, but he does turn his

bedroom into a . . . well, you'll see when you get there.

DISCLAIMERS: Again, we all know Harry Potter and his world aren't mine. (But oh, the joy if I could clean the cat litter

with a wave of the wand.) Remus' flat is a miniaturized, more convenient version of my house, and the "music group" he is in,

as well as its other members, is my creation as well.

CURRENCY TRANSLATION RATES: It occurred to me that I listed a "half-pound notebook" in here, so I'm listing the

exchange rates as of this writing (January 2005) for anyone who cares.

U.S. DOLLARS TO THE BRITISH POUND: 1.87 (I round to 2, I'm not good in math)

BRITISH POUNDS TO THE WIZARDING GALLEON: 5 (according to J.K. Rowling)

So there are also about US 10 in one Galleon. I'm using US prices and then just translating them to pounds (Sorry, I'm not

doing THAT much research!), so if the prices are drastically different than what they should be - sorry.

ARCHIVING: See Ch. 1, please.

DEDICATIONS: Eleonora1 and ImmortalFlick ON this site, my best friend Alicia OFF this site. (She doesn't write

fanfiction, are you kidding me? She doesn't even like it that much. She just helps ME write.) Okay, I think that's it! Enjoy!

"Okay, pick a bed." Harry was torn. Apparently Remus had fudged a bit to Dumbledore – he'd converted a somewhat

spacious single bedroom into a slightly undersized pair of bedrooms by way of a large, thick quilt hanging down the middle of

the room. So now Harry had the choice of the front "room" with first dibs on the bathroom, or the back "room" with the

window. The easiest way to settle the problem occurred to him suddenly, and so he asked, "Where have you been sleeping?"

Remus shrugged. "On the couch."

"On the couch?"

"I didn't want to make a mess in here before you got to see it all nice and clean for thirty seconds."

Harry turned his eyes skyward. (Remushadn't made it any easier on him, either.)Apparently Remus hadn't been kidding

when he'd told Harry he had his work cut out for him – he'd begged Harry to ignore the dozen or so coffee mugs scattered in

and around the kitchen sink, the huge piles of sheet music and composer's sheets sitting on the couch and coffee table, and a

large fruit juice stain on the carpet near the bedroom. Harry would never have pictured Remus as a clutterbug, but the

evidence was right in front of his eyes – he didn't know anybody else who kept nearly twenty coffee mugs with only one

person in the house. There were only three rooms in the flat – living room, kitchen, and bedroom (they also had a

private bathroom, which Remus seemed to consider the epitome of luxury.) and all three were a bit odd. Remus had evidently

blended the elements of the Wizarding and muggle worlds until he had all the implements he considered most convenient –

there was a refrigerator, for example, but the stove only worked by matches or magic.

Harry ran over all these things in his mind as he considered where he wanted to sleep, still unsure as to how Remus'

admission in the car was going to affect everything. 'It wouldn't affect anything at all in a perfect world,' Harry thought,

'but unfortunately the world's really not fair, especially to me these days, it seems.'

Remus finally broke into Harry's tumbled thoughts. "Fine. If you won't decide, then I'll just take the front one and you can

have the window."

Harry shook his head. "Huh?"

Remus didn't even acknowledge that Harry had spoken, merely depositing the boy's trunk in front of the bed near the

window, and then wandering out to the kitchen, Harry traipsing hurriedly behind him.

"-to drink?"

Harry shook again – he really needed to stop getting lost in his thoughts. "Sorry?"

Remus patiently repeated himself. "I asked if you wanted anything to drink," he replied, opening the refrigerator and adding,

"there's water, milk, apple cider, coffee, tea – hot and iced – and hot chocolate. Oh, and I've got some orange juice left in

here if you want it."

"Er – whatever you're having is fine."

Remus set a small pan on the stove, lit it with his wand, and started adding things like cocoa and sugar and milk. When it was

all melted and stirred and simply waiting to heat, he turned and sat down at the table.

"Something you should know right now is that I'm not exactly a rules-friendly person, Harry – I think having too many rules

undermines the purpose of having them. Sooner or later they start to get really ridiculous, and people start disregarding them.

But Dumbledore said you could only stay here if I wasn't doing stupid things like letting you stay out until one in the morning

or allowing you to go places where you could get into trouble, so I thought we'd sit down together and talk about rules.

You're not five years old. You should be allowed to help set your own boundaries, within reason."

"That sounds fair."

"Excellent." Remus paused long enough to pour hot chocolate and add ice cream to his own mug before pulling out a simple

half-pound muggle notebook and two ballpoint pens, one of which he clicked open and immediately began drawing doodles

on the edges of the first page of the notebook. The other he passed to Harry with his free hand.

"Right. So . . . rules. I'm telling you right now you're not staying out past eleven unless I'm with you, because if I don't tell

you that I'm going to be hideless. Molly'll just skin it right off."

Harry laughed and then answered. "So long as I'm not always doing all the housework or something I'm fine."

"Well, there's only two of us, so I don't know how to assign housework, to be honest. When I was a kid there were so many

of us – I was the ninth one – that we just drew lots. But that doesn't exactly work when there are only two people involved. I

don't suppose Dumbledore would consider it irresponsible to suspend judgment on that until we have a few different

opinions. I, personally, go crazy doing the same things day after day after day. That's why I alternate the days I do things. But

now I'm babbling. You should stop me when I do that, Harry," Remus teased.

Harry blushed. "I can't help it if I was strictly trained not to interrupt."

"Rules were made to be broken. But then, you already know that."

Harry turned his head sideways to read the schedule Remus was outlining in the notebook. "Friday and Saturday out gig.

What's that supposed to mean?"

Remus didn't even pause in his writing as he answered. "Dumbledore – and most of the rest of the Order – pointed out that if

I didn't have at least a semi-steady paying job I wouldn't be able to support you, which is now one of my basic

responsibilities, so I called up this girl I used to be in a local music group with – her name's Raven – to see if they happened

to be looking for a guitarist again. And they were, good luck on my side at last, so I'm usually on gigs now on Friday and

Saturday nights. That's what all the music out there is for. I used to be a lyricist for the group. I did a lot of things. We all did.

There were only five of us and we did a lot of things, in fact at one time we were that close to becoming really big and putting

out an album, but then our pianist left and the whole deal fell apart."

"That doesn't sound like very good luck to me."

"Well, it was more than ten years ago. They've got a new one now and she's fantastic. But anyway, on Fridays and

Saturdays I'm usually not home, so you'll either have to come with me or someone will have to come over – or you can go

somewhere, it's your choice. But most of the time I can take you with me, if you want."

"That'd be awesome!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't know you played guitar."

"Since I was thirteen," Remus answered him, grinning. "You'll be surprised, Harry, when you realize that I do know how to

have fun that doesn't involve books."

Harry knocked on the bedroom door nervously. He'd heard Remus let out a loud whoop several minutes before, and since

then there'd been nothing but silence. A month in the flat with Remus – it was now well into the first week of July – had taught

him that mysterious noises followed by silence, plus a lack of knowledge of Remus' plans, had a tendency to add up to

trouble.

"It's open!"

Harry pushed the door open uncertainly, only to be creamed in the face with a large ball of leaves. He spluttered. "Remus!"

Remus laughed from a crosslegged position on the floor. "It's too hot out there."

"So you turned our room into a giant leaf pile in October?"

"Absolutely! It's my bed and not yours anyway, Harry. I left yours completely intact. See?" Remus pointed around the quilt

(or rather, what had been a quilt and was now another giant leaf pile) toward Harry's bed and trunk, the only non-leaf-ified

pieces of furniture in the room.

Harry plopped down onto what had been Remus' bed with a loud crunching noise. "I still don't get why we didn't just go to

the community swimming pool or something."

"Because this is more fun."

"Right. What did you do, Transfigure everything?"

"Yup." Remus made some kind of noise between a giggle and a snigger – sniggering sounded like too mean a word for the

sound he made, but giggling sounded immature and schoolgirly – and pushed Harry back into the leaf-pile bed. "Do you

know the best part about a Transfigured leaf pile is, Harry?" Harry shook his head hesitantly. "No slugs. Or other nasty insect

things that insist upon getting up your pant legs and in your hair and all kinds of other not-so-wonderful places."

"Remus?"

"Mmm?"

"When did you turn into such a kid?"

"I've always been like this, Harry," Remus replied, sitting up and picking several bits of maple foliage out of his hair and going

back to Always-Slightly-Serious Lupin. "I just know when it's appropriate to act like this and when it's not. And right now

there's no reason for it to be inappropriate, so here I am, playing around in a giant leaf pile that used to be my bed. And my

dresser and nightstand, incidentally, but I don't think I'll have such a hard time sorting those out."

Harry sat up, breathless from a leaf fight and pushing each other around and trying to trip Remus into the leaves instead of the

other way around and all kinds of other things he'd never done before (having had nobody to do them with), and pushed his

bangs out of his eyes. "We should do this again sometime. I didn't know you were so good in Transfiguration."

"Third in the class. But anyway – Harry, I wanted to ask you something."

"Boy, you sure know how to change topics at the speed of light."

"It's a werewolf thing. But – Harry, what would you think if I said I wanted to start dating again?"

Harry stared in disbelief. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're living with me."

"So?"

"Should I take that as a 'no, I don't mind,' then?"

"I guess so. But what made you – I mean – well – you said –"

Remus rolled his eyes affectionately. "Terribly articulate, aren't you? But honestly, since I've had you here I've been spending

more time with people fairly close to your age, not to mention you, and I've realized – I'm really not that old."

Harry gaped. "Merlin, Remus, you're only thirty-six!"

Remus sighed. "It feels so much older than it sounds sometimes. But I realized I don't really have to shut down my entire life

because my hair's a bit gray or I can't turn cartwheels for six hours straight anymore. So I'm asking you if you'd mind."

Harry stared at him calculatingly. There was a look on Remus' face that belied whatever came out of his mouth, and Harry

very seriously suspected he was already up to something – so he said so. "Remus, what are you up to?"

"Hmn?" Remus looked startled.

"I mean – you're already on for somebody, or something, aren't you?"

Harry's former professor blushed. "I don't know how you figure these things out."

Harry waved the implied question aside. "Okay, so who is it?"

Remus' face turned even redder. "Well, I don't know him, actually . . ."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The werewolf burrowed down beneath the leaves with a muffled "Just a minute" and reappeared several moments later,

shaking leaves out of his hair (again) with a newspaper in his hand. "Well, I was reading this the other day and –"

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you have a newspaper under your bed?"

Shrug. "I do those kinds of things."

"Right. But you were saying –"

"Right. I was reading these the other night and this one here – he just sounds interesting."

"The classified ads?"

Remus nodded and pointed to a small ad near the bottom of the page. Harry read it. Interesting for Remus, maybe.

Somebody who read a lot and enjoyed mostly quiet pastimes was not Harry's idea of a good mate, but then he wasn't

Remus. And the guy sounded all right, beyond that. "Go for it."

That night Remus sat down and wrote a letter.