I'm back! I haven't forgotten, although I've struggled with this chapter like you wouldn't believe. Updates will continue, but probably on a slower and less regular schedule than previously.
Three days into his summer holidays, Harry sat outside on the third-floor deck of a wizarding resort in Marseille, France, and looked desolately at his dearly beloved godfather. Three feet away, a dozing Crow looked away from Harry in embarrassment.
"I don't get it," he most certainly did not moan. "We rested yesterday, right?"
"Yes we rested yesterday," a lounging Sirius told him with a roll of his eyes. The bright shine of sun on his skin made the prison tattoos on his neck and arms seem darker than usual. "In order for us all to recover from the literal day before that. You remember, when you travelled for over twelve hours straight and managed to fling your body from Scotland to Germany to France, over the distance of something like two thousand miles?"
On Sirius' left, a lightly clad Remus coughed politely into his hand as he rearranged himself on his own blue deck chair. "Apologies, Padfoot, but I don't think you've quite—"
"Yes, yes," Sirius waved him away, his other hand wobbling just enough to slosh an inch of his cool, orange drink over its edge and onto the wooden deck. "My maths is dodgy, no need to get caught up in the particulars. My point remains."
"You don—" Harry cut himself off. Inhaling slowly, he found himself instead staring out at the calm morning sea while he counted silently to three. One, two…If only there was a Calming Draught in his glass. If only Sirius was being reasonable.
"Yes, Sirius," he managed after swallowing his more immature responses. "Thank you for your…attention to detail." The words came out clipped and precise. "I acknowledge that I travelled a lot that day. That's why I didn't complain when you said we should do nothing and just sleep in and lounge around yesterday. But that was yesterday."
Crow hopped a little further away from the wizards as Harry sat straight up to peer down at the closer beach, its white sands stunningly perfect under the brilliant blue of the morning sky.
Harry ignored both the bird and Sirius in preference for the hissing sea spray below. The Gulf of Lion's gentle undulations were preferable to looking at Sirius' stupid pineapple Hawaiian shirt, at any rate.
"Because I listened to you yesterday, today it's your turn. Today we can go out. It looks like a perfect day to enjoy the city. Have a proper walk on the beach. Find the local tourist traps. Visit a bookshop or two when the heat gets too much and maybe hunt down an ice cream shop." Harry carefully avoided noticing the whine that crept into his voice near the end, and the way Sirius rolled his eyes unreasonably. "I don't get why you're putting your foot down."
The weather just south of Marseille's Vieux Port, or Old Port, was shaping up to be both beautiful and stunningly hot. Already at just after nine in the morning, the sky was a cloudless blue and intense enough that Harry already had to squint when he gazed up. The brisk, salty wind that was coming off the water already held hints of the humid stickiness to come, and not even the light fabrics and muggle summerwear – so much lighter than the wizarding equivalent – that he, Sirius and Remus had reverted to seemed inclined to keep them cool.
His watcher for the day, the loyal Crow, might be comfortable enough for now but even as Harry sat on the deck he could feel the warm, sticky sensation of sweat beginning to pool in his underarms and soak slowly into his t-shirt. At least Remus was feigning a cool air, but Sirius, despite unbuttoning his bright turquoise and yellow shirt, was already displaying his own sweat patches under his sleeves.
Harry noticed this as his godfather threw his hands up in the air. This time the rest of his orange drink sloshed out, which didn't help Sirius' mood any.
"Godric save us all from—" Sirius bit off the sentence. Arms raised in supplication to unknown gods, Sirius rolled his eyes like the dramatic arsehole that he was.
Harry's forehead, slick with sweat and strands of hair stuck to him, twitched in irritation. "Oi!"
"Tell the kid, Moony!" his godfather exclaimed petulantly. "He hasn't recovered enough yet!"
Obligingly, Remus turned his head to venture a polite suggestion in Harry's direction. "It's not a hard ask to relax on your second day of holidays, surely?"
Arguing with Remus was never quite as tense as arguing with Sirius. Harry let his shoulders relax and attempted to slow his breathing. "It's not that. I just…I want to have a look at where we're at. Get out and explore things. I've got a bunch of places recommended to me and not much time to do them in."
"In this heat?"
"I've got cooling charms."
Harry stiffened again as Sirius snorted.
"Sirius…"
"Why ruin the day?" Sirius challenged. "Not all of us are lucky enough to travel for pleasure. We're all the way in Marseille, on holiday, so we might as well not be bloody idiots and waste the getaway."
"Or," Harry rolled his eyes. "Since we've travelled all this way, I could be out and about seeing things this holiday while – get this – while keeping cool enough for comfort. And in better company too, I might add. Crow and Crookshanks excepted."
Uncaring, the crow on the deck railing leant over to peck at a whorl in the wood and completely ignored the tension radiating between Harry and his godfather. Remus stared between them.
Remus' hazel eyes looked extra golden in the bright sunlight as he turned his head back to Sirius' pouting form. "That also seems like a reasonable holiday expectation."
"Thank you!" Harry told the more reasonable wizard. "It's nice that someone realises it's not mad to want to – I don't know – see France while in France, or anything."
"Gods above! No!" Sirius protested loudly enough that one of the resort staff popped their head out an upstairs window to check on them for an embarrassing moment. Their argument was paused while all three wizards mimed appropriately calming motions at the curious face in the window.
Unfortunately, "Anyway," Sirius was perfectly happy to pick up at the exact, tense moment that he'd left off previously. His accusatory finger pointed back at Harry. "You are an invalid. You've barely recovered from literal trauma! Stay off your feet, let those fabulous French witches wait on you hand and foot and do nothing but loll around for once in your life."
Harry swore. "Why the bloody hell would I want to do that in the literal three days I've got?"
Adrenaline surged in Harry's body as Sirius lunged forward in his seat, the finger he'd been pointing with now making little stabby gestures in Harry's direction. "You have to understand, Harry, from our perspective we last saw you during the Triwizard that inexplicably turned into a fight to the death with an enraged Dark Lord."
Remus, the traitor, nodded his head again. Whose side was he on, anyway?
"Whatever!" This time, Harry let the sigh turn into a groan and escape. "Yeah, but—"
"And once it was all over, you had Moony smuggle me out of the country for 'my safety'," Sirius interrupted. "We've only had the occasional letter and the papers for updates ever since. You could have been dying back in Scotland and we would have found out three days later." The older wizard scoffed. "As if Fudge is going to do anything to me after all that embarrassment."
"With him, you never know." Harry had infinite faith in Fudge's ability to make the worst decisions. Then, back on topic, he blinked after a long pause for thought and fought to slow his words. "Look, I understand your frustration with the distance and all – I do – but that's no reason to," his voice cracked, "to lock me up here – even if the food is fabulous and the view is to die for."
"You were in a fight to the death!" Sirius repeated, forcing his hands through his hair in agitation. Beneath him, the wood of his chair squeaked with his movement. "With, amongst other things, your parents' killer!"
"Merlin, Morgana and Maeve! I know, I was there, remember?"
"And you looked so exhausted after it was all over, and we couldn't even come with you! Did you get seen by a proper healer? Have you had a proper interview with the aurors? Has St Mungo's seen you? How did you even convince Kreacher to let you leave the Isles without a proper checkover by independents?! Merlin only knows how that Tournament farce happened in the safest bloody place in all of the British Isles, possibly the world."
"Kreacher is perfectly reasonable about things because he trusts m—"
"He's improved a lot," Sirius admitted, "but he's always been a mad little bastard with no sense whatsoever."
"Don't say that about him! And the Tournament was as full of safety measures as could reasonably b—"
"Bollocks! Facing down a dark lord isn't exactly your everyday activity!" Sirius insisted.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Then Harry's mouth froze half open. For an incredulous moment, he found himself reeling in shock, ears ringing. Then, er…he may have to concede the point, actually. Sirius had raised a good argument: normal people didn't fight dark lords on the regular. Normal people didn't feel compelled to fulfil prophecies. Your average, everyday, normal wizard didn't feel the need to risk their life to keep other people safe.
Um. For other people, for everyone who wasn't Harry actually, that was fortunately true and a reasonable assumption.
Harry, of course, was well practised in all the above by now but still…
His eyes caught on Sirius' hands, tense and grasping tightly at the armrests of his seat. Tendons and blood vessels stood clearly on his skin as his fingers clenched tightly.
Sirius was the closest thing Harry had to a guardian, he remembered suddenly, and finally felt a twinge of guilt at Sirius' worry.
His frustration bled right out of him.
"I was fine, I was fine. Madam Pomfrey patched me right up and I was interviewed by Rufus Scrimgeour and Amelia Bones themselves." Awkwardly, Harry forced a small chuckle to cut through the tension. "Fudge was very embarrassed when he stopped by the Hospital Wing to give me my winnings. He's still not a fan of mine, but he had to pretend despite both of us knowing the truth because I'd asked Skeeter to be there. It was a good moment. Nice and apologetic. Everything's been well investigated now, and – for reals, here – all's well that ends well, yeah?"
Aside from them both, Remus winced at something Harry said.
"You bull-headed, self-absorbed, self-righteous ugh!" Sirius looked like he was going to be sick. "You don't just get over facing down dark lords like that," he threw up his hands. "You need rest, Harry. Proper rest, to – y'know – work through the shock of it all, and recover mentally even if your body is all healthy now, which I doubt, because you still haven't told us what happened when the Cup took you away but You-Know-Who has always had a reputation!"
Harry scowled before taking two seconds to modulate this voice. There were things people didn't know.
Gently, gently: "I've had rest, Sirius. Madam Pomfrey locked me up in her Hospital Wing for the rest of the term, remember? Banned visitors, except for the official investigators and half an hour each evening during which time one – one – friend of mine was allowed in as long as they 'kept me calm'."
"It takes time to rec—"
"I was kept there nine days, Sirius. Nine days in which I wasn't allowed to get out of bed. Nine days of staring at the ceiling and half wishing a reporter would break in. Nine days filled with hiding conversations with Kreacher on the mirrors and having him sneak through to pick up those letters when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking. It's time for me to do something again. Get out. Get over things. I've got to move for a bit or I'll go crazy."
"You fought a dark lord, Harry!"
"It was two weeks ago!" Harry protested. Besides, it wasn't like facing down Voldemort was special or unusual. Not to him, anyway. "I only want to get out for a bit and stretch my legs. Do a bit of shopping, the ice cream is sounding better and better with this heat…"
"Absolutely not," Sirius pronounced. "Rest, relax, recover. For all that you're a wonderful, incredible kid who's also somehow won the Triwizard Championship, you're still just a kid, Crowley. Take it easy and listen to the adults for a bit, won't you?"
"Sirius," Harry sighed, placing his hands over his eyes. "I love you, I really do. But I've been stuck insid—"
"You fought a dark lord!" For some reason, Sirius was unreasonably stuck on that point. "Headmaster Dumbledore says you were used in a ritual. A blood magic ritual. Do you have any idea what that means to wizards?! This is not your usual, regular type of injury, Harry!"
"Ah…" Harry stopped again, head cocked. Then, very carefully, he tried to think about what his life might look like to an outsider. Someone who hadn't come back in time, for example, or someone who didn't catch up with Ol' Voldie every twelve months or so.
Colin Creevey's parents, for example. Or – a wizarding parent, um – the Weasleys, or even Narcissa Malfoy, who would be overprotective if Draco fought Voldemort.
With that comparison, perhaps…perhaps Sirius wasn't reacting inappropriately for a guardian some poor, traumatised teenager after all?
"Er," he managed. He still couldn't help the scowl though.
"I've seen the report of your scars, Harry. I'm even looking at some of them now! Madam Pomfrey's notes have been horrifyingly explicit and not even Dumbledor can explain what you've been through to get them!"
Ah. Damn those scars reappearing. He'd been thrown at first when all his old surface injuries had returned despite the change in timeline, after that fuss in the quiet white space. But it was kind of nice to see evidence of what he'd managed over the years, even if no one else knew their stories.
Harry had earned his scars honestly over two timelines, thank you very much.
But…Harry could be honest enough to admit, it probably had been a tad worrying to Madam Pomfrey et cetera to see them all pop up overnight. How could anyone explain away, "I must not tell lies" popping up after a murder attempt anyway?
"I have some idea what those rituals do," he had to admit, taking the moment to stare fixedly at Crow preen himself in a sleepy kind of manner. "Fortunately, I'm pretty sure all the unfortunate connections resolved themselves relatively quickly." After Harry had died again. "I swear I'm fine now."
"'Pretty sure'." Sirius rolled his eyes, wincing a little in the glare of the bright sunlight. "You don't know that. You're only hoping."
"I'm pretty good with reading magic now," Harry pointed out, his magesight once again at the forefront of his mind. "I promise. The prophecy resolved a few things, and of course Voldemort's dead now, which resolved a lot more. So it's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine…right?"
"Merlin, I hope you're right," Sirius muttered darkly, his tone and the scowl on his face contrasting oddly with the beautiful view and cheerful sound of nearby waves washing up against the shoreline. "Merlin, Morgana and Maeve, I only hope you're right."
An hour and a half later, Harry found a moment to pull Remus aside and extol the beauties of bookshops.
Remus' wry glance told Harry that he knew what he was doing.
"—so, um," Harry finished, forcing his gaze to stay even and level, "I figured that I can keep Sirius much happier with me, y'know, stay around here better and all, if I had a new collection of books to read. First. After one quick trip."
Remus' hazel eyes caught the light as he glanced up to seek Sirius' back, to see if the wizard was coming back from whoever was making him those fruity little drinks this time.
"You'd like me to accompany you out," he repeated carefully.
"Ah, yup." Harry tried a hopeful smile, in case it would help.
"Just, completely ignoring that argument you just had with your godfather."
"…I guess."
"Despite Sirius' obvious and explicit displeasure."
"…Yes."
Remus continued relentlessly. "Into public, just after your big," he paused, "your big display. Performance. Fight."
Harry's shoulders sank. "I mean, I've been made aware that Sirius did raise a coupl—okay, may a few good points, but still—"
Remus shrugged. "Okay."
"Huh?"
At Harry's startled second take, Remus' thin lips were curled up into what might just be the slightest of subtle quirks. "I see his side too, you understand. But you've been parenting yourself well enough for the last decade or so without any undue influence from old farts like us."
As Harry sat back in his lounge chair, he found his eyebrows climbing before the midday sun now suddenly gleamed bright enough that he needed to squint in Remus' direction.
"Personally, of course," the older man continued, "I can appreciate the benefits of a good bookshop, and I'm speaking from experience when I say that Sirius isn't upset at the idea of you going out so much as the idea that you want to, what is it, do your holiday homework? If you wanted to sneak out to a pub, he'd be all for it."
"Oh," Harry mumbled, a few things falling into place in his mind.
"I, on the other hand," Remus continued, now nodding in a kindly kind of manner, "feel that at least one of your adult influences should encourage this kind of academic interest."
"…Right. Thanks."
With a sudden start, Remus abruptly leaned forward and hauled himself to his impressive full height. Harry watched him pat himself down for only a moment before realising that, in fact, this meant that they were about to go; he stood up himself and checked his wand holster and mokeskin pouch.
"We'll take the outside stairs to avoid getting caught on the way out," Remus told him, a long canine tooth catching the light of the sun for a moment before Remus' grin turned away. Harry's imagination immediately painted a picture of what a sixteen-year-old Marauder might have looked like once, sneaking out of the dorms after curfew, perhaps.
An awkwardly gangly teenager: tall and thin, his joints bony and angular even then; his faded clothes replaced by a Gryffindor jersey, frayed, perhaps, around the wrists but no lines of worry or pain yet on his face, only the wrinkles of a crooked grin and a deep, sardonic humour buried in his eyes.
Harry blinked and the image resolved itself into the older Remus, Professor Moony, in borrowed beach clothes that didn't quite suit him. There was a slight slump in his shoulders even as a glimmer of a grin hid in the shadows of his face.
They left the empty deck behind them, the lounge chairs still warm from their body heat and the sun, the everlasting ice in Harry's drink still gleaming cool at the bottom of his empty glass.
"Besides," Remus picked up where he'd left off as his footsteps clattered to the bottom of the resort stairs. "If any teenager can look out for himself around fans and journalists, I rather imagine that it would be you, hm?"
Harry pattered to the bottom of the stairs himself, before catching up to the long-striding Remus with a bit of a jog and settling into place beside him. "Yeah?"
"Quite aside from your justifiable paranoia and the overview of your very protective guardians," Remus jerked his head upwards, to where Crow was now freewheeling just above the trees that hid the wizarding resort from the muggles around it before continuing, "I imagine that you're perfectly capable of defending and protecting yourself from, well, whoever might notice you in a uniquely efficient manner."
"Thanks?"
They passed their way through the leafy trees that led towards the muggle beachfront, and the hot sunshine seemed to hit Harry's torso with a humid slap as he stepped out of their shade. In front of them, the white sand beach gleamed brightly and the small ocean ripples that teased the shoreline caught the light with bright silver glitters.
"You never even let on you could do it, you sly dog," Remus continued, and with dawning clarity, Harry realised that they were having a different conversation than what he had thought.
"Eh?"
"Oh, it's very impressive. Convenient too, how it will get you around all those pesky little rules that Sirius used to complain about."
"Riiight. Yes?"
The footsteps grew gradually louder as the green grass beneath their feet revealed more and more sand to crunch underfoot as they approached the end of the scattered trees. Just before they walked out of the sparkling lavender magic that indicated the edge of the wardline, Remus stopped.
A couple of paces away from Harry, Remus stood and stared out at the brilliant view.
"The Wandless Wonder, I think they're calling you in the papers. If you can summon thousands of wands that way, you must be marvellously good at it?"
He stood on a twig, which snapped.
Immediately, Harry's mind went to the worst swear words he knew. "Mmmmmhrm?" he tried. His voice may have cracked.
"Your grades have always suggested that you were gifted," Remus continued mildly.
"…Thanks."
"Of course, recent events have rather proved us all wrong, wouldn't you say? You must be quite the prodigious prodigy: wandless magic that powerful at your age, and all."
"…Mmmh." The salty breeze ruffled Harry's hair and he spent a few moments desperately trying to remove a single persistent strand from where it poked his eye. "Um…well, I wouldn't really…er."
"Been practising a while, have you?"
"Me? Oh, yes. Gotta get ready for exams and all…"
"And without the wand?"
"Yeah, that too," Harry swallowed. "Totally. Lots of practice. Um. Gotta get used to this new world, the magic world, I mean."
"Uh huh?" Was Remus the type you let you hang yourself on your own rope? Harry had a sudden suspicion.
"I mean…starting small…once I realised it was worth working on, I had to…unlike the other muggleborn, but it seemed like a logical idea?"
Unfortunately, Remus had once been a Marauder and he side-eyed Harry's flustered bluster with scepticism. "Did I ever mention that your dad once had a similar trick?"
Attention diverted, Harry gave up on the pokey fringe hair and turned his head to stare at the tall man by his side; Remus was sun-dappled through the last distant shade of the trees and looked fondly nostalgic.
"Eh?"
"Yeah," Remus grinned in reminiscence. "James got quite famous at Hogwarts in, think it was sixth year? He made this great performance: shouting out incantations, screwing up his face, extending his hands out, fingers tense…"
"…Yeah?"
"Gods, it got the whole school talking." Remus snorted. "Turned out, he'd had Wormtail actually casting the spells the whole time, while everyone was distracted by Prongs' performance. His whole plot – he wanted to impress your mother, you know – it lasted for about six weeks just after Christmas, until Marlene – your mother's good friend – spotted Wormtail's wand tip poking out his robe sleeve and ruined James' plan."
"Heh." Harry's shoulders lost tension he hadn't known they'd had. "They weren't dating at that point then?"
"Merlin no! By sixth-year, Lily was beginning to accept that James wasn't always the huge waste of space she'd always thought him, but every time her opinion of him improved, he ruined it with one of his wild plans. It took your dad until seventh-year to realise that she actually wanted a wizard with substance."
Harry forgot his other worries for a moment. "But…isn't that obvious?"
Remus raised his eyebrows curiously.
"I mean, wanting something…real?"
"Heh," the corners of Remus' mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "Well, your father and Sirius spent most of their youth and teenage years impressed by heroic displays of daring and danger. Let's see…he'd be your Great Uncle Charlie, I think – James' idol, Charlus Potter, was Fleamont's younger brother – had all these great tales of his time in the war against Grindelwald, you know. Having grown up on all those thrilling war stories, it took James a while to realise Lily wasn't looking for flashy."
The history of a family Harry had never known warmed and tickled something inside his chest, but Remus kept talking, his nostalgic softness sharpening into fond suspicion.
"Either way, I'm not quite sure what your trick is, but it must have been something special to use against both You-Know-Who and in sight of that huge stadium of spectators."
Crows were predators, Harry knew very well. But the thought occurred to him, as the hot Provence sun faded away under the intent stares of Padfoot and Moony, that they probably didn't hold a candle to wolves or wolfhounds.
"I didn't—I really wasn't—"
The eyes of a man who'd grown up with James looked a tad too sharp for Harry's comfort.
"Back up!" he stuttered. "I never meant to be disarmed, had to do something…anything…"
"Ah." Remus' face cleared like the riddle had been solved. "Something from the Weasley twin's inventory perhaps?"
"Oh, Merlin. No, I—"
"Could you do it again then, right now?" His gaze had a weight to it, and completely ruined Harry's hope of sneaking the Eldest Wand out of his mokeskin.
"Look," Harry stuttered. "If you gave me a moment, and…ah…I'll need a couple of things…"
"You keep your secrets, Harry," Remus finally grinned, raising his hand to pat Harry gently on the shoulder and completely misunderstanding Harry's distress. "Depending on whether the twins want to use you as advertising or not, you might want to talk to Mr Lloyd-Elliot about the fallout, and I would have encouraged you to think about how the media would run with it before you did anything, but against You-Know-Who I dare say you didn't have much leeway."
"…" Harry tried to explain himself, but Remus really had knocked him off balance. He found himself wordless. The air tasted salty on his dry tongue.
Remus let them stand in silence while Harry worked at swallowing away the rock in his throat, still speechless, until finally he could no longer tell whether the sweat on his palms was from his panic or the heat and just shrugged.
"Anyway." The older wizard took another long look at the sparkling blue on the Mediterranean horizon before finally stepping out of the shade and across the lavender wardline. "Remember to pass on my thanks to whoever recommended this place to you, won't you? It's a damn sight better than where I thought we'd be heading."
"You can tell her yourself," Harry grasped onto the topic change with the desperation of a drowning man. There was so much confusion… "I've made plans to meet up with Fleur after Quidditch Camp. Fleur W—Delacour, you know, from the Tournament."
"Oh, the French wi—ah." Remus shrugged one shoulder before absently casting a notice-me-not. His feet crunched on sand. "Well, that makes sense. I'll make sure to pass my appreciation on. For a few weeks there, I was convinced we were going to end up near some topless beach with a bunch of cheap bars across the road."
Harry took another long moment to stare out at the vista before hurrying up his footsteps. "Surely Sirius hasn't been complaining about the bikinis here, does he? I mean, a high-class wizarding resort so close to a muggle – ah, hot spot, I guess? – surprised the heck out of me at first, but for all the opposite reasons."
Remus grimaced. "Oh, Sirius is quite delighted by this place. He's managed to scrounge up from somewhere a pair of opera glasses, the better to survey the beach with, actually. I'm surprised you haven't seen him using them."
The bikinis again.
The noise was louder outside of the resort muggle-repellent, and Harry was just distracted enough by it that he tripped over a solitary tuft of grass that poked through the ever-increasing sand. He poked at the offending tuft with his toe before hustling to catch up to Remus' long stride. "Well, we have been arguing a bit."
Harry appreciated the silent pause that Remus filled by pursing his lips thoughtfully, and the way Remus' eyes never left the horizon when he finally did decide to speak.
"I was wondering about that, actually. What's going on with you, Harry? Both Sirius and I worry about you in our own different ways."
Haha. What wasn't going on with him might be a better question. Shifting sand crunched underfoot.
For another short moment Harry thought about deflecting the question, but, "Gah!" he exclaimed, hands flung up to rake through his hair again with unnecessary force. "I'm just, ugh. I'm just a bit confused, I think. I mean, I'm confused and lost about things. I've spent so long working towards, um."
His own frown crinkled and Harry let himself pretend that he was pausing to chase down a stray hair that was now caught in his left eyelashes rather than searching for words to describe his past focus. He eyed the gleaming beachfront as he thought.
"So, there's been this one big, particular and super-important goal of mine. It took up all my free time, directed my studies, changed my friendships and who I hang out with and how I get on with my teachers and teammates and all, and even in the rare few moments where I snuck in some time just for fun – Quidditch, for example – it was always in the back of my mind giving me direction and pressure and defining my process, you know?"
Long legs pacing slowly, Remus might have glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye, but kindly still pretended to be fascinated by the horizon, or maybe the wash of ripples against the sand as Harry pursed his lips.
Harry shrugged fitfully. "Anyway, things happened. You know. The school year's ended up a bit different to what I was expecting and there're new worries that I hadn't anticipated, but…Now my goal's gone and I'm done with it all, and…where does that leave me?"
The thought was truer than he liked to think. Voldemort had defined his entire time at Hogwarts, not that Harry'd realised it early enough the first time round. And now he'd beaten – killed – Voldemort in a bloody public ritual duel which complicated everything immensely, despite the fact he had no particular direction.
What was he supposed to do at Hogwarts now?
"I think I begin to see," Remus interrupted Harry's cycling thoughts, breaking him out of the spiral of anxiety and bringing him back to the present: green trees rustling on his right, mild waves whispering on his left, barely-clad muggles chattering and sunbathing and splashing mere feet before him.
Having mentioned things took a weight off Harry's shoulders – a small and temporary weight, but every bit helped – and so he found himself mindlessly enjoying the summer beach sounds while Remus walked slowly, again in silence.
When the older man did speak, it was with a slow and thoughtful pace, each word apparently chosen very carefully indeed.
"I realise that our initial relationship was…wait no," Remus tried. His long fingers moved to roll up non-existent long sleeves again before fluttering back to his side. "Er. I've not made a proper apology for the reasons that hindered our original relationship building," he managed, now sounding happier with his choice of words. "It took me a long time to come around, but I would like to apologise for keeping my distance from you, Harry, at Hogwarts when we first met, and even before that, when I could have been keeping an eye on your childhood."
"Er?" Harry had been thinking about Voldemort. Then he flapped a hand dismissively. "Oh, right. I'm over that now, don't worry about it."
The strong scent of sunscreen carried to them on the wind.
"I really do insist," Remus said, finally turning to face Harry with vulnerable apology carved into the lines on his face. "You've never mentioned what it was like to grow up with your mother's family, but Sirius has made some comments and between ourselves and Mr Lloyd-Elliot, we've looked into things a bit—Oh! Nothing intrusive!" His words tripped over themselves. "Just to get an overview of what your life has been like, as any responsible guardian should do."
"Uh huh?"
Remus sighed. "I didn't realise that your leaving your aunt's home – your childhood home – had been such a long-term aspiration. Your comments just now have confirmed a few worries we had. I—" he trailed off. "If I had been more present in your life, perhaps your circumstances could have somehow been improved."
Harry squinted as the direction of his previous thoughts took a hard and sharp turn onto a completely different track. Again. How did Remus keep doing this to him? "Yeah. The Dursleys. Right."
Remus' smile this time was an uncertain and hopeful thing. "I do hope I'm not being too presumptuous when I suggest – I dare propose, that is – that you might wish to consider moving in with Sirius and myself at the end of the next school year."
It was all very kind of Remus, but wh—oh. The future plans thing.
"Mr Lloyd-Elliot believes that all the paperwork and legalities of Sirius' repatriation and guardianship will be completed within the next two months, which will give him control… I mean, the legal rights over your care. Since you have indicated no great desire to return to your aunt's, perhaps…Well, Sirius was thinking about moving the two of us into one of the Black houses just out of Lancaster and, if the option interests you at all…I mean, Sirius and I would both be delighted if you wanted to move in with us."
Harry blamed the deceptively soft sand beneath him for at least some of the unbalanced feeling he now reeled from and alittle voice in his brain that sounded like Kreacher demanded that he check what time he had last applied his Skin Safe Salve.
"You have time," Remus meanwhile continued, utterly oblivious to Harry's battle for clarity. "Whatever direction you choose to take your future, you have all of Hogwarts to think about it. Merlin, Sirius would probably tell you that he has enough money you can live off him for years before you need to decide! And I know you don't like to use your fame," the strange man continued, "but it will probably open some doors for you too. Really, I'm sure me saying it doesn't make it seem real yet, Harry, but there's not rush to grow up."
Harry heroically suppressed a fit of hysterical giggles and let the conversation die off. The two, still hidden from muggle sight by virtue of Remus' charm skills, crunched their peaceful way along the Marseille beachfront until they both found some peace.
Finally Remus coughed, bringing Harry's attention back to him and looked a little more alive, less pensive, than they had been. He took an instant to push up his long sleeves from habit, once again forgetting that he was wearing short sleeves already that revealed his surprisingly pale upper arms.
He looked down at himself in mild surprise. "Oh, right. Well, Harry, I'll side-along you unless you'd prefer the hour's walk?"
"Please."
And with a quiet pop, they travelled from Le Chateau du Soleil to the Wizarding shopping district in Vieux Port de Marseille, which had been Harry's goal all along.
