The Child of the Amaranth Wards

by suugabee

Summary:

1986. When Severus finds out about Harry's living conditions at the Dursleys, he does the unexpected and rescues the child, planning to let Remus Lupin deal with the consequences.
Severus, against his better judgment, stays for the consequences.

Notes:

Although I put a lot of effort into my writing, English is not my native language. Please excuse any mistake :)

Chapter 1

Severus Snape was sitting in his least uncomfortable chair in the sitting room of Spinner’s End, exhausted by a long night of brewing. The latest publication of his potion journal sat on his knees. He had tried to read it to relax, to no avail. Actually, this particular edition was having the opposite effect: some underqualified and overconfident imbecile was trying to argue that adding valerian to Felix Felicis would mitigate the nasty side effects that came with the potion running its course – depression, anxiety, and other reminders of luck running out. As if there was a way to counteract the human condition with valerian.

Severus would have overdosed on it as a teenager, if the plant had these effects, if he hadn’t learned about occlumency. He frowned at that thought: he would have to rethink what ingredients should be locked away from experimenting students when the school year started over. If published authors could dream up usages for ingredients, Merlin knows what teenagers could come up with (he knew, and it was not good). There was no need to test their creativity.

The sun was barely rising over the battered, deserted houses of this part of Cokeworth and like every single morning, Severus considered moving far, far away from his childhood home and its tainted memories. He really hated this house, old, dirty despite his best cleaning spells, with threadbare furniture that took the air out of Severus’ lungs every time he looked at it but that he could not bring himself to throw away. Still, he had the urge to overdo it on fire strength every time he had to brew something intricate to finally be free of this place, level it to the ground, and be done with it all.

He could afford to move away: his salary as a Hogwarts professor and Head of House would allow him to live way more comfortably than he was, and he was making quite a bit of money selling potions to clients of … diversified backgrounds. He could probably survive solely through his potion expertise.

He would have, at least. But Severus stayed, and taught teenagers even though he disliked teaching and teenagers, played a role he did not understand fully with no question asked, all in the name of a promise he made for a boy he did not know and, trustfully, did not want to know.

Severus rarely let himself think about anything that happened before 1981, and that might be the reason he was the greatest potion master of all time (though his skills had to stay under the radar, as per Dumbledore’s orders, which prevented him to revolutionize the field, and it hurt, but he had to let it go and forget he ever wanted a chance at a life for himself, he damned himself too thoroughly to deserve it): no other thought allowed but potions, potions, potions.

Every time he felt the all-encompassing grief menacing to rise and drown him, he focused harder on drowning the feelings instead. His mind shield was a river where he dumped anything he wanted to hide from others or himself, the water too cold and painful to dive in, the current too fast to catch up to the thoughts. But he kept a tight leash on what he allowed himself to do, knowing that using his talent to its full capacity would have dire consequences. Indeed, Severus knew only of one person who had mastered occlumency at this level. And it was someone who let teenagers fight in a war. Severus did not allow himself to numb himself completely, ever. He had made that mistake already and he would pay forever for it.

26 was too young to have wasted his life, he thought, but wasted it was; and now Severus was pretending that every “discovery” in his potion magazine did not make him want to cry with boredom. He still forced himself to read every word, mentally correcting the potions and finding ways to make them both more time-efficient and less expensive – something none of those potion masters seemed to care about.

He sighed when he was finally done reading and let the paper fall to the ground as he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of his neighborhood: dogs barking, a baby crying, some drunk man yelling. No magic anywhere in this city apart from the magic protecting his house, pulsing in rhythm with his heart. Calming, bittersweet, like magic had always been to him. Something that had saved him and doomed him.

He had given it his all before starting teaching at Hogwarts in September 1982, wanting to cleanse his house from the dirty magic of the death eaters that had been by, wards uselessly strong for a place everyone knew he lived in. It would not prevent anyone who really want to get in to enter, but it would let him know early enough to be able to get away and avoid them.

The lack of anonymity was another reason to hate it: Spinner’s End was the house of a loveless family, and then it became the house of a death eater, and it still was for the majority of the wizarding population. His name had been cleared in the name of the law only; he would forever be a traitor and a death eater. Dumbledore has done the bare minimum to explain to the Order that Severus was a spy for the Light; for reasons only known by the headmaster, Severus needed to remain on the line between the two sides of the war, keeping his cover even though the person he did it for was dead.

Severus had lost the only people he had ever cared for, he had lost his identity, his chance at fulfilling his dreams, but he had promised, and so he stayed. Here in Spinner’s End, at Hogwarts, in England, it didn’t matter.

Severus was considering letting himself fall asleep in the sitting room when he felt the wards being breached by an owl. Blinking at the sunlight, harsh against his tired eyes, he got to his feet to open the window and let the small owl in. As he took and opened the letter, he absentmindedly thought he did not expect any mail. His blood turned ice cold as he took in the words on the page.

Severus didn’t want to believe what he was reading, but not only there was little chance she would write to him for any other reason than absolute necessity, the content of the letter was also too detailed, too raw; some wounds that Severus had thought healed were making him numb, just as they used to, as he read. Barely thinking about what he was doing, Severus vanished his robes wandlessly, to be left in clothes suitable to a visit to a muggle neighborhood. He shot his wand from the holster on his arm into his hand.

The little owl on the window sill jumped at the loud crack of a hurried Disapparition, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and a letter slowly falling to the ground.

 

***

 

Harry Potter was sitting on the stairs of the house at Privet Drive, his face turned to the sky as he cried without a sound, only a few feet away from where Severus was standing, under a Disillusionment charm.

Harry, Severus knew, would be six years old soon, but he was small and skinny for his age, even with a t-shirt that was too long and hiding his frame. He assuredly looked like a Potter, dark skin and messy hair, but the resemblance of the boy with Severus’ bully stopped there. Severus followed the silver curse scar that started in the child’s hair and dipped through his right eyebrow into peridot eyes that belonged to his past.

It felt like a blow to the gut. Severus thought about meeting Lily when she was barely older than her son was now, when Severus first fell in love with her; he thought about Lily’s eyes on the day she broke up with him, years later, the green standing out even more in contrast with the tears and the reddened whites.

With one look, Harry reminded Severus of everything that Lily had been to him, but not only. The child was in a sorry state, and it was impossible to see him as the son of James Potter. Severus focused on the boy before him, dirty and too skinny and heartbreaking in his sadness, crying alone. Harry’s arms were covered in bruises, and Severus recognized them because it was the same pattern that had once been on his skin.

Severus did something he promised himself he would not do anymore. He let the river in his mind overflow, covering his mind with ice-cold water, freezing every emotion for a few seconds of blissful peace. He reluctantly reigned the river in again, feeling guilty that he gave in, though he was still dumping anything that looked like memories of his childhood, anything that made him think about adult hands around skinny arms.

Harry cried and cried; no one came to comfort him. After a while, the boy stood up and went to the garden, where he worked, still silently crying, until the end of the morning. At that point, Petunia yelled for him from the house and he hurried back inside, whipping his face and his hands with his t-shirt.

Severus was still standing in the driveway, unable to move his feet. His shoulders felt heavy with the decision he was about to take, with the magnitude of what he would do because there was no way this was the reality in which the son of Lily Evans would grow up. Severus thought about the first time he had seen Harry Potter, and felt that taking the prophecy to the Dark Lord was not his last betrayal to Lily. Trusting Dumbledore had been a terrible mistake.

The headmaster had kept Severus close after the war and he had the horrifying feeling it was because the Dark Lord was not defeated. Severus had obliged, accepting he had a key role to play in whatever schemes the headmaster had planned. He had been doomed for a long time and would ensure the Dark Lord would not rise again at the cost of his life if needed. But why would the old fool put the Boy-Who-Lived into an abusive home?

Because it had been a conscious decision, leaving a magical child in the care of a woman who not only hated magic but also deeply resented her sister. And even if Dumbledore did not know at first that it would turn out that way, Figgs wrote in her letter that she had tried to contact the headmaster, to no avail, after realizing Harry was not in a loving home. She had only written to Severus as a last resort.

It would not be the first time the headmaster had let a child into an unfit situation, and Severus had taken matters into his own hands when it came to the Slytherin students as soon as he became Head of House, four years ago. However, this was Harry Potter. It did not make any sense to let him grow up in such a place when there were countless safer options in wizard families.

Severus could not make sense of it, but Dumbledore clearly had a plan for Harry Potter that did not involve his safety. Now, Severus was harshly reminded that his loyalty lay with the child, not with Albus Dumbledore. Severus knew he would have to carefully revisit his memories of the war to try and understand the choices of the headmaster, but that was for later.

Severus carefully reached with his magic, trying to feel if there was anything protecting the child. He did not dare use his wand: he had no intention of setting off any alarm. But wandless magic was mostly undetectable, and if he focused enough, he would be able to determine if there were wards on the house.

After a few minutes of intense concentration, Severus did feel something, though it was not magic he was familiar with. It felt deep and ancient, but also so weak Severus doubted it could actually protect Harry. He certainly had no issue approaching the house and standing in the garden earlier, only a few feet away from the child. He may not have ill intentions, but still. Dumbledore had not even made sure the child was safe magically.

Severus silently apologized to Harry as walked down the street to apparate, wanting to take him away immediately but knowing that he needed to be ready before he did anything or Harry would be brought back by the headmaster. He could think about one person who would genuinely want to help Harry and who would not run to the headmaster. Too bad this person was also someone who would want nothing to do with Severus, and rightfully so. But he had to try anyway.

But first, a detour at Spinner’s End to get some potions. After all, it was the day after the full moon, and Merlin knew in what state Remus Lupin would be.

Chapter 2

Harry was sweating in his dirty clothes, lying on the ground of his cupboard; it was already too stuffy and hot on a normal day in there, but with the record temperatures of that summer, he could barely breathe. He had already sweated a lot while working in the garden, and Aunt Petunia hadn’t let him take a glass of water from the kitchen.

His arm hurt where Uncle Vernon had gripped him earlier, and he tried really hard to not cry again thinking about how angry his uncle had become at the sight of the garden. He had just wanted to be done so he could stop working, after two full days of planting and rearranging the flowers in the sun, and everything he had planted the past two days had bloomed at once.

It was the first summer Harry had to work outside, and he thought it would be different, not being directly under his aunt and uncle’s supervision. He thought it would be better if they saw him less. But weird things kept happening around him, and Harry really wanted to think it was magic but the Dursley did not like that word at all and he kept getting punished. Harry wondered if he was crazy. Can you be crazy if you constantly worry about being crazy?

Harry heard a voice he didn’t know, coming from the entryway. He could tell it was a man talking, deep and authoritative, and his aunt and uncle were answering with more and more urgency, but Harry could not make out the words. The man sounded annoyed. Harry tucked his knees under his chin to make himself smaller; he had to be invisible where people were over. He was very good at pretending he did not exist.

Suddenly, the door of his cupboard was wrenched open; Harry flattened himself against the brick wall opposite the door, feeling like his heart was about to explode. His legs hurt from the tension of wanting to flee but being powerless, his only escape route blocked. The man he heard arguing with his aunt and uncle was indeed standing with his hand on the cupboard door, close enough that Harry could tell he was looking furious.

He was dressed in all black, with long wavy hair and a strong nose, his skin slightly lighter than Harry’s. Harry let out a whimper, unable to stop himself and immediately regretting making a noise. The man’s dark eyes were stormy, and Harry could feel something not unlike anger coming out of the man’s aura in waves. It felt cold on his skin, though not painful. Harry started to shiver.

Immediately, the man’s face went expressionless; the stranger let his arm fall to this side as he took deep breaths. It got even colder in the cupboard. He then crouched down and held his hand out, his face still blank, and it was a look Harry knew by heart because he had taught himself to maintain this expression when Uncle Vernon was in a bad mood so as to not anger him further. For some reason, Harry felt himself relax a little bit, even though his instincts were still screaming at him to run away.

 “I apologize for scaring you, Harry”, the man said, his deep voice void of any emotions, “Would you come out?”

Harry, even though he had never been told directly to watch out for strangers, had often heard Aunt Petunia tell Dudley to never, ever follow someone he didn’t know, even if that person was offering him sweets, which the man didn’t, even if they seemed nice, which he probably wasn’t.

Harry, however, was not scared of the man. He desperately wanted to take that hand and get out of his cupboard, no promises of sweets or niceness were needed. Harry did not move only because he could hear Uncle Vernon’s loud breathing in the hallway and he knew he would get in trouble somehow, because someone saw him in the cupboard and that would be his fault for not being invisible enough, for existing too much.

Harry had always dreamed of someone coming to save him and to take him away from the Dursley. He often hoped his parents did not die in a car crash but were alive and were one day coming to get him, with an explanation as to why they had to leave him behind and that they were so sorry but that now everything would be okay. He had imagined his mom, warm, with a gentle smile on her face; his dad, brave, nice, and ready to protect him. Actually, they were several drawings in his cupboard of his dreamed-up parents.

He had definitely never drawn an angry-looking man dressed in black with coldness seeping out of him.

Harry looked into the man’s eyes, so dark that the pupil and the iris blended. He saw the tiniest spark of warmth in them and felt like he could hear the words “trust me, please” being passed from the stranger’s mind to his own. Which was crazy, right? Harry was pretty sure telepathy wasn’t a thing, and yet he felt strangely comforted by the feeling. Harry desperately wanted telepathy to be real right now, so he tried: he thought with all his strength “okay”  and took the man’s cold hand.

Harry saw the man’s eyes widen before flashing with curiosity; they immediately went cold again as he rose and turned to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, Harry’s hand firmly in his. “We are leaving”, he said, voice sharp as ice, “and you are not to look for Harry, to talk about Harry, to tell anyone how Harry has left. If anyone, and I mean anyone”, the man stressed the word and glared at Aunt Petunia, who took a step back, “comes by and asks about Harry, you will lie to them and contact me immediately. Am I understood?”

Harry stayed quiet even though he had so many questions his head was starting to hurt. He watched his uncle and aunt nod tersely and turn away to go to the living room, not sparing a glance at him. He heard Dudley loudly ask for something to eat and his aunt answered him with so much sweetness in her voice it made Harry feel vaguely sick.

As he and the tall man stood in the hallway, Harry realized he had just been abandoned again. He didn’t know why he felt sad. They did not love or want him, and he had dreamed of being taken away every day since he could remember. And yet, his wrists were burning, and his chest was heavy, just like that time he realized doing everything Aunt Petunia wanted would never make her love him.

Harry looked up and met the tall man’s eyes. The man inclined his head to indicate Harry’s cupboard and asked: “Is there anything you would like to take with you?” Harry looked at his cupboard, taking in the dirty mattress and the ratty blanket, the dust, the broken toys, the few drawings. He shook his head.

“Very well. We are going to leave through a magical means called Apparition, and it will probably make you light-headed as it is your first time traveling like this. Don’t worry, it will pass quickly.”

Harry’s head snapped up when he heard the word magical. “Yes, magic is real, Harry. I will explain everything to you once we have arrived.” The man looked as if it pained him to speak those words, so Harry merely nodded and held the stranger’s hand tighter.

The man tightened his grip in answer and then everything went dark.

Chapter 3

Notes:

*chanting* Remus! Remus! Remus!
He is my absolute favorite character. Ugh I love him so much.
Anyway here's another chapter as promised ealier <3

Remus Lupin had been pacing in the kitchen of his cottage house for the past hour, desperately trying to calm himself down but ultimately unable to quiet his mind, his thoughts a mess of worry and anticipation. He could barely believe the events of the past 24 hours.

Severus Snape, showing up in the shitty shack he used for transformations – a place not only hidden to muggles but also definitely impossible to find for wizards, due to the numerous wards he had put on himself. And they were really solid wards, Remus would know; he was a hell of a runes master.

Apart from the shock of being found here, Lupin had reeled from the absurdity of Severus Snape finding him. Their last interaction had made it quite clear they were to never cross paths again. Never in a million years would the potion master seek out Remus for anything else than the end of the bloody world, and even that was unlikely: nobody held grudges quite like Snape and the man would have probably let it all burn before coming to Remus.

And yet, Snape had come to Remus’ fucked up hell on earth, his face closed off thanks to his particular brand of occlumency, his natural scent completely drowned under the magic needed to occlude so deeply that the air tasted metallic to the werewolf; Remus had not smelled the overpowering magic in years and instead of cursing the potion master or fleeing, Remus had let him in without a word, overcome by so many contradictory feelings they somehow negated each other in the end.  

Snape had been on edge, which Remus supposed was on brand for him, but his wand was not in his hand; even if the potion master had attacked him, Remus would have been too tired to fight, so he hadn’t bothered getting his own wand out. They had spent a few seconds of taunt silence, looking each other over – and Remus had taken in how unwell Snape had looked, obviously tired beyond measure, knowing that himself looked like death warmed over after the full moon- before Snape had broken the tension by saying a sentence that the werewolf thought he would never hear again.

I need your help.

And before letting him any time to recover from that, Snape had started explaining how and why, and Remus had had to sit down on the ground, his legs giving out. Harry, abused in the home Albus had let him after Lily’s and James’ deaths. Snape, made aware by Figgs, and unable to leave the child there any longer. Snape, realizing that Albus had a plan for Harry Potter and that the headmaster would ensure the child stayed with his relatives, abusive or not. Snape, coming to him, the last person on earth he would want to interact with, because Remus was the only person who would genuinely want to help Harry without running to Albus.

Snape, asking him to secure his home, reevaluate his alliances, and raise Harry.

Raise Harry.

It was all too much to take in, so Remus had done the only logical thing: agree. Oh, it had been quite the internal battle against his nature. Fleeing had been easy, after the war, and maybe a bit during and even before, when he was still at Hogwarts. Fleeing numbed the pain. Remus had spent a lot of time forgetting the human in him while in various werewolves’ packs, trying to drown his grief in violence and impulses. But confronted with the reality, which was that Harry needed a home and that Snape would never raise the child himself, the answer had been easy. Even the wolf had not been reason enough to refuse.

Snape was obviously a few steps ahead and while Remus had wanted to yell at him to slow the fuck down and explain why the hell would Snape even care, why Snape thought he could just show up like nothing happened and ask him to raise a child, the child of their first friend that died because of mistakes they both did, the urgency of getting Harry out had trumped any questions, any reticence. Snape would get Harry and Remus would deal with the situation then.

So Remus had agreed, Snape had given him a few potions to get back on his feet after his transformation (and wasn’t that a mindfuck of its own), and they had planned to meet at his cottage by the evening, after Remus had warded the place and Snape had gotten Harry. Snape had left without so much as a goodbye.

Remus was so overwhelmed he had to stay on the ground for a few minutes before he had managed to gulp down the potions and apparate away to the cottage his maternal grandmother had left him.

And now, a few hours and quite a few charms, runes, and spells later, Remus was pacing in the kitchen of Liora’s cottage, thinking about Harry and mentally preparing to raise a child he knew nothing about. Snape had mentioned abuse, so bad that he had to get him out immediately; apart from this fact and his age, Remus knew nothing about Harry.

He had gotten the smaller bedroom ready and wondered what color to spell the bedding and had been pained to realize he had no idea what the child liked, before mentally berating himself: obviously he would not know that kind of thing when he had stayed as far away from the child as possible. And wasn’t that an uncomfortable truth: Remus Lupin did not know Harry Potter because he was a fucking coward.

But onto more practical and urgent issues: Remus was thinking about healing trauma he had no measure of, teaching Harry magic (Snape had only mentioned the people Harry was staying with were muggles, so Remus expected to have quite a bit to cover), having to talk about James and Lily and Peter (that hurt) and Sirius (that hurt even more, oh Merlin), dealing with the full moon when you cared for a child, explaining Harry’s role in the war (how do you tell a child that kind of things?), staying far, far away from Dumbledore (was it even possible to keep secrets as big as this from the headmaster?), and, well. Snape.

Remus did not want to open that can of worms but some questions would require answers and a conversation to have. A conversation he expected to be very painful, and probably awkward in all the worst ways.

The werewolf forcefully pushed the questions aside and focused back on what he would do with Harry once he got there. He hoped the child was not too frightened by Snape barging in and removing him, but who he was kidding: he doubted the potion master was able to look less moody and scary. Just as he thought about getting some chocolate on the table for the boy (universal remedy, that), he felt the wards pulse, indicating of a nearby apparition, and took off to the garden.

He caught sight of Snape, carrying Harry in his arms and looking frantically around for the werewolf’s house, hidden from him because of the wards. Remus ran faster, his heart in his throat at the sight of the passed-out child. He tore open the gate of the fence, which startled Snape, and with a quick flick of his want reopened the wound on his hand from the warding.

Snape reacted immediately by readjusting Harry in his arms and holding out his palm for Remus, a show of trust that would have shocked Remus in less dire circumstances. Remus cut it open without hesitation and immediately mixed their blood together, Snape’s hand so cold it burnt, the metallic scent of occlumency overwhelming him. He then looked Harry over and saw that the child had scrapped knees, bloody enough to allow the ritual to work. He resolutely ignored the bruises and the skinniness of the young boy, determined to take him to safety before losing his shit.

Remus focused on the wards and felt them welcome Snape and Harry in, though Harry’s acceptance felt surprisingly easy, as if it was natural to them; they would have to do a Fidelius to add another layer of protection.

Remus had used a blood ritual, which by nature was … frowned upon, even in the darker, pureblood circles, and thus almost lost to wizardkind, as well as multiple runes sequences that should make it impossible for anyone to not only find them, but also to go through the protections alive. He wasn’t taking any chances (and he would ask Snape to add his own wards and to explain how the fuck he had found him to begin with, there was a risk after all that Snape had found a weak spot. Better safe than sorry. Remus knew quite a lot about misplaced trust, even in himself).

As soon as the wards relaxed around them, Snape hurried to the cottage, Remus hot on his heels. Once inside, he put Harry down on the couch, carefully putting his head on a pillow, and started firing diagnostic spells at him. Remus crouched down next to the sofa, close to Harry, and finally took the time to examine the child now that he was safe.

He noted the bruises, the skinniness, the silver scar on his forehead that went through his right eyebrow and nipped at his eyelid. His messy hair was the carbon copy of James’, except for the patch of white hair that grew just above the scar. Apart from those traits, Harry looked remarkably like his father, and it pulled at something deep into Remus. He absentmindedly thought that it must infuriate Snape, to have Lily’s child looking so much like his old enemy.

After a few moments and quite a few spells, Snape let out a huff and crossed his arms. He was looking at the child and not meeting Remus’ eyes.

“He is not in immediate danger. He’s dehydrated, malnourished, his right arm appears to be broken, and he is magically depleted, which is why he passed out when I apparated. Probably because his magic has been working hard to keep him standing,” said the potion master, his face carefully blank as always. “I have taken care of the dehydration. I will administrate potions for the rest when he wakes up, and I have some salve for the … superficial trauma”.

Remus looked at Harry’s bruised arms again and gulped down the rage he felt against the people who had done this to him. He felt a bit better knowing that Harry was unconscious because of magic sensitivity, not because of something that had happened to him before leaving. He still felt sick thinking about what could have happened to break the little boy’s arm and leave that many marks, without even thinking about what did not leave any mark at all but could be just as horrible. On top of that, Snape’s extreme carefulness with Harry was setting him on edge.

Remus looked up at Snape from where he was sitting on the ground.

“Let’s talk,” he said quietly, which made Snape finally meet his eyes. The metallic scent of Snape’s magic was almost unbearable to the werewolf, having progressively become stronger and stronger since he had arrived with the child. It peaked again before Snape took a last look at Harry and turned around, marching to the kitchen, as much as an invitation to follow him that the man could probably muster.

Remus sighed. This was going to be a shitshow.

Notes:

*still chanting* Remus! Remus!

He's just the best. I'm mostly writing this fic because I wanted him as a parent to Harry, and though I love Sirius and wolfstar, Snupin has intrigued me a lot since I've read The Heir to the House of Prince (which, btw, is being updated again! so happy).

Chapter 4

Severus entered the kitchen and immediately caught sight of the chocolate the foolish werewolf had left on the table, probably in anticipation of the child’s arrival; he snorted internally. Some things really never changed. Lupin was still all scars, amber eyes, chocolate in the pocket of every worn-out cardigan, tired smiles, infuriating gentleness, and yet more rage than someone so composed-looking could possibly hide. And that’s the man he chose to take care of Harry Potter. Could be worse, he supposed.

He finally took the time to look at his surroundings. The cottage was definitely old, but unlike Spinner’s End, it had been taken care of and was thus cozy and familiar in the unique way places that have been loved could be. Severus knew as he looked around that Lupin’s grandmother had chosen each piece, each color with attention. This would be a nice place to grow up in, he supposed. Not horrifyingly sterile like the muggle hell he took Harry form. Not dusty and cold like his own childhood home.

Severus sat in a chair at the round wooden table with a direct view of the living room and the sofa where the boy was sleeping, uncomfortable at the idea of letting him out of his view so soon after the disaster that was his retrieval, purely out of medical concern.

Lupin sat annoyingly close to him after making some tea that Severus had refused. He was silently grateful for the cup the wolf had put in front of him anyway, if only to have the opportunity to warm his hands. He probably should ease on the occluding as he could barely feel his fingers anymore.

Severus ignored his frozen hands and started talking, his eyes on the sofa. He quickly went over his conversation with the human errors that were Petunia and Vernon Dursley, focusing on the important part: they were going to stay very quiet about where Harry had gone. Severus might have been plotting to make their agreement more magically soundproof, but Lupin did not need to know the details. Severus did not mention the cupboard, worried that his hands would actually fall off if he tried to explain the boy’s living conditions.  

He thought about what happened with Harry when Severus had pushed some calming magic towards the child. It was barely even considered magic by most wixen, an intuitive gesture that wizards and witches did without realizing they were even doing anything: Severus had thought the child would react positively to it. Showing Harry he was magical could have led the child to trust him more easily, because Harry would have thought of his parents.

But instead of simply calming down, Harry had done something unexpected. So unexpected that Severus had trouble even considering it, and he would certainly not bring it up with Lupin. Children had no control over their magic; children as young as Harry often did not show any magic. So it was ludicrous to think that the child had somehow magically reached out to him and answered in his mind. The fleeting moment of connection Severus had felt must have been the product of his imagination.  

Similarly, Severus kept to himself what he found out about the wards placed on Harry – or rather, what he did not find out. There certainly was something, but his diagnostic spells came back negative, which ruled out any warding he knew of, as he had feared. He planned to discuss this with Lupin eventually, but he had nothing to tell him yet, so he didn’t. Speaking of wards, he wordlessly healed the cut that Lupin had made on his hand earlier and did the same for the werewolf, who nodded in thanks, surprise in his eyes and a small smile on his lips.  

Snape ignored the man’s reaction and explained he was not aware of any sort of surveillance from Dumbledore – and he wished he was naïve enough to hope anyone involved in such a watch would have done something and not let a child rot in these conditions – so he was confident that Harry’s disappearance would not be noticed, at least until the child’s eleventh birthday. Which gave them quite a bit of time to think of a way to explain why Remus Lupin had suddenly acquired a very famous war orphan.

“I just can’t believe he would leave Harry there,” said Lupin, sounding defeated.

“I can,” Severus said. He thought about Regulus Black. He thought about himself. Albus could ignore, Albus could do nothing, so why wouldn’t Albus be able to put a child in an abusive home if it was easier?

“I can,” he continued, “I understand he… facilitated things for you. But do keep in mind there is nothing gratuitous when it comes to Albus Dumbledore’s actions.”

Severus could see Lupin was thinking about his role in the war. He knew Albus had sent him to spy on the werewolves’ packs. He could imagine what being in the ranks of packs aligned with the Dark Lord would have done to a man like Remus Lupin.

Severus could not afford to feel bad for the wolf, so he continued on with what they needed to sort out. As for financial questions, Severus could easily support both Harry and Lupin. He would rather jump off a broom than say this to the wolf, though, and he knew the wolf would sooner die of hunger than let himself be a kept man – especially if Severus was doing the keeping part. Lupin had just lost his umpteenth muggle job, and they both knew Harry would need a lot of supervision, for the next few years at least. But Severus also knew that Lupin’s pride would not be able to take his money to raise the child.

So instead Severus told Lupin that the Potters surely had something in place for Harry in case they were to die in the war. Severus hoped they did, and he could not imagine Lily had not planned something in the situation she would not be able to raise her son. They would have to go to Gringotts, which was risky but unavoidable.

Lupin predictably looked uncomfortable about the discussion, but Severus was not in the mood to ease the awkwardness. In the unlikely possibility Lily had not set up anything for Harry, they would make do, but it would facilitate quite a few things if Severus did not have to make the werewolf accept his help. Lupin could be uneasy about needing access to Potter’s fortune after his death; Severus did not care one bit about his feelings on the matter, knowing it would be much worse for the werewolf to live off Severus’ Galleons. Accommodating the man’s misplaced pride was tiresome, he thought.

Which led him to what Lupin would be doing. Severus expected a few questions from the werewolf, but he was barely more ready than Lupin in the sense he had had a staggering five hours' head start to think about Harry Potter. He could offer some assistance on the matter that was likely bothering Lupin the most, though.

“I will brew Wolfsbane in time for the next full moon,” he said, offhandedly, in the same tone Lupin had offered tea earlier. The wolf inhaled sharply, probably ready to argue, the fool, so Severus did not let him any time to do so: “This is non-negotiable. This is not charity. Do not try to tell me you can keep going without Wolfsbane. You will accept it, and you will not say anything about owing me or other inanities.”

More than Lupin’s lycanthropy, Severus knew it was the werewolf’s inability to accept any form of help that was problematic. He was expecting a fight on this, and so he carefully kept his eyes on his cup. No need to meet angry amber eyes when the air was already unbreathable.  

Lupin breathed out. “Alright, alright. For Harry,” he sighed, sounding dejected. Severus carefully lifted his eyes from his cup to look at Lupin. The other man was obviously trying his best to look composed, but his fists clenched on his knees told another story. Lupin was looking intently at Harry, his brows furrowed. The young boy was still fast asleep, but Severus knew it would not last much longer. Soon, he would wake up, and Lupin would have to somehow take care of him.

“During.. the full moon,” Severus hesitated, annoyed at himself for doing so, “Is there anyone…?”, he cut himself off at Lupin’s grimace.

“Snape, the only people – you won’t even call them that – I’ve spent time with since the war are werewolves. You- I-. There’s no one anymore.” Lupin seemed to be in physical pain as he spoke, and Snape hated that he could relate so well. It was an annihilation, what happened to their generation. Most of the wixen born between 1959 and 1961, and who attended school with them, had died during the war, on one side or the other. The ones who survived would not have reached out to a death eater or a werewolf: they were as dark as one another in the eye of wizardkind.

In a sense, Lupin and Severus had found themselves in the same situation. But at least Lupin had been fighting on the right side of the war from the start and had never even thought about doing any of the atrocities Severus had committed again and again. Lupin would never have bargained with the life of a child to save someone he loved. Severus wondered how the man could stand to be in the same room as him. Once again, the full weight of his mistakes was heavy on his shoulders, and occluding could do nothing against facts.

Severus nodded, well aware that any word of consolation would likely be met with anger, and rightfully so. Instead, he simply said, “Then I’ll look over the child,” his voice as calm as he could manage.

“Yes, I think it’s best we do not bring anyone else in yet.” Lupin looked like he wanted to add something, and Severus had the blood-curdling sensation that it would be something around the lines of Lily would be happy about this and he was grateful that the stupid werewolf had thought better and shut up. The very tentative truce they had going on would not have survived, and no amount of occlumency would have allowed Severus to stay calm. Lily had died hating him, and it was deserved.

Severus was… unsure about caring for the child, even as little as once a month. It had been quite easy to ignore his very existence. It would certainly be very painful to look into those eyes for prolonged amounts of time, and to see that face and not be reminded of James Potter. Harry Potter, was, just by existing, the reminder of Severus’ mistakes, of his first friend and the love of his life, of his bully, of what he could have had with Lily, and the reason for Lily’s death. It was all a bit too much for one child, Severus thought.

But Harry was also a child who looked more like Severus did at his age than what James Potter looked like as a teenager. And the child was also what remained from the existence of Lily Evans. If it weren’t for those bruises and those big, green eyes, Severus would have mercilessly hated the child with all he had, whether that was rational or not.  

Severus had a lot of experience in hiding his feelings. He could be cordial to the child. He could do differently, and he could protect him, though more actively than he thought he would when he promised to protect the Boy-who-Lived. He would let Remus take care of the emotional part of this affair and would make sure the full moon would not be a bad experience for the boy, even if that cost him. He would do good by Lily’s child. He could endure anything for her.

Lupin and Severus had only discussed the most practical topics, and the weight of the unsaid matters was almost palpable in the air, but Severus was exhausted already. Lupin looked equally knackered, barely recovered from the full moon. They stayed in silence for a few moments, and Severus relished the brief interlude.

His eyes still on Harry, Lupin whispered: “How did you find me?”

Severus sat back in his chair and tipped his head toward the ceiling.

“November 1981.” He was pretty sure Lupin had stopped breathing.

“Ah. Yes. I did wonder how I found myself at St. Mungo’s,” the wolf answered finally, his voice unwavering. Severus Snape was an occlumency master. Yet, he had nothing on Remus Lupin.

“And the wards?,” the werewolf continued, matter-of-factly, as if unbothered by learning that Severus had come and saved his life after destroying it. Severus did not want to say it, but the good thing about occlumency was that it also allowed him to not be embarrassed. He looked harder at the ceiling.

“Spelled against enemies, are they not?” he asked.

“… They are.”, replied Lupin, after a beat. “Thankfully, I spelled the wards here against anyone that does not have a blood pact with me. This can’t happen again.”

Severus realized two things at that moment. Firstly, the wolf had never thought they were enemies, or at least he hadn’t since the end of the war. It had been quite a shock to come back to Lupin’s hideout and to not immediately be incapacitated. The potion master had expected to be met with animosity, hate, a few hexes at the very least, which granted, was not like Lupin at all. A lifetime ago, they would probably have had at least some words. But now, Lupin did not have any fight left in him. Severus felt the same.

Secondly, they now had a blood pact. He had understood what it was when Lupin had mixed their blood together, and he had let it happen anyway. Blood pacts, like all blood magic, were strictly illegal and severely punished. If they were caught, an Azkaban sentence would have been likely if they were ordinary wizards; a pact between a werewolf and a Death Eater would guarantee them a Dementor kiss. Severus couldn’t find the energy to care.

Thankfully, blood pacts such as the one the wolf performed usually had very few side effects, as far as he knew, apart from allowing Severus to enter the surely very intricate and deadly wards Lupin had put on his property. He could feel them thanks to their pact, and they seemed powerful. Severus did not want to imagine how much blood it had taken: the place was vibrating with magic. Lupin did look a little pale, now that Severus was paying attention: his scars were almost glowing against his skin.  

Severus was about to ask if the werewolf needed a blood replenisher when Harry moved in the living room. Both men were on their feet in a heartbeat.

Notes:

Severus' relationship with Harry is so complex every time I think about the reasons he could have to dislike Harry I find a new one. Severus is working through his issues, though. Meanwhile, Remus is doing illegal shit. I have this headcanon that Remus does not give a fuck about using the dark arts (in secret, of course) since he's classified as a dark creature anyway.

Also, I've been reading a lot of marauders era fics (and breaking my heart a lot over Regulus), and it really puts into perspective how many of Remus and Severus' schoolmates died. Pandora is one of the only ones who survive and is not in Azkaban, and in canon she dies in 1990...was that necessary??? I got stupidly attached to all of them :(

Anyway, see you next week for Harry's POV :)

Chapter 5

Notes:

Little side note about Lupin after some discussion with some of you : You can be kind and refuse to take shit. That's Remus. I think that as a teenager he had a tendency to be a pushover, but you know. The war. Losing his friends. Growing up. He will fight for Harry in this. I'm happy y'all like my Remus <3

Harry stirred on the unfamiliar sofa, his eyes adjusting to the soft yellow light filtering through the door from another room. He had no idea where he was, and his heartbeat picked up when he realized that he wasn’t wearing shoes. How did he get here? Squinting, he could see some bookshelves lining the walls and a big window, but it was dark outside.

He felt light-headed and weak, but this was not unusual for him. His arm still hurt, but at least his throat did not feel like he had swallowed sand anymore. The sofa creaked as he sat up, and two figures entered the room. One, the man who had come to the Dursleys, stopped by the window. Harry recognized the hair and the skin color. He was wearing different clothes though, some sort of black robe that made him look even taller. The other man crouched down next to Harry with a smile.

The man’s face and neck were covered in scars, some healed over and silver not unlike Harry’s scar, some looking fresh. Harry felt that the scars would continue down the man’s body, under the grey cardigan. Harry was intimidated, thinking about his own scars and how much it should have hurt to get that many. His gaze met amber eyes full of kindness and resolve.  

"Hello, Harry. I'm Remus Lupin," the man said, his voice warm and comforting. "And the man over there is Severus Snape." He turned his head slightly, toward the man by the window. Harry’s eyes fixated on Severus Snape, who acknowledged him with a nod. There was something about the man that held Harry’s attention, and he really wanted to try the telepathy thing again. This was the first time something weird had happened that wasn’t only Harry’s doing. And magic. The man had said magic was real, and that he would explain. Harry wanted to ask about it so badly, but he stayed quiet. If the scarred man noticed Harry’s attention was not on him, he didn’t reprimand him about it.

"You can call me Remus. Sna- Severus took you from your relatives and brought you here,” Remus continued, and Harry redirected his attention toward him. “Do you remember?”

Harry hesitated. He did remember some bits, but he had no idea how he got there, so he shook his head. His gaze kept going from Remus to Severus. There was a silence, and then Severus spoke.

"Maybe we should heal him and feed him before trying to have a conversation," Severus suggested, his tone gruff but not unkind.

The man approached the sofa and reached into the pockets of his dark robes, producing a collection of small, peculiar bottles. The glass containers held different colored liquids, swirling in strange patterns. Harry realized the liquids were magical and immediately had the urge to touch the bottles. Severus handed one of them to Harry, the glass cool to the touch. Harry took the vial in his small hands, fascinated.

Harry’s gaze shifted between Severus and the vial, wondering what it was. Severus, his expression unreadable, said, “This is a derivative of a potion called Skele-Gro, which is used to mend or regrow bones.” Regrowing bones? This could only be painful. Harry made a face. The man smirked as if he read his thoughts (which he might be doing, Harry contemplated) and added, “I said derivative because I made it painless. It’s less potent than the original, but it should be enough for your arm.”

Harry listened attentively, processing the words. So his arm was pretty bad. Severus continued in his no-nonsense tone, "It will help it heal. Please drink it.”

The confidence in Severus' voice had a calming effect on Harry, who accepted the explanation, though he was unsure about drinking the potion. With a deep breath, he uncorked the vial and brought it to his lips. The liquid touched his tongue, and for a moment, he hesitated, unsure of the taste and the magic it held. It felt- Harry had trouble describing it.

It was tingly and full of energy, and while the liquid was cold, Harry had the strange thought that the magic inside was warm. It was very different from Severus, and yet, Harry knew in that instant that he would find the same undertones of rosemary and citrus in every potion the man would brew.

With resolve, Harry swallowed the potion. The effects were immediate – he felt the pain in his arm lessen dramatically and sighed in relief. His head was spinning a bit, but he met Severus’ dark eyes and saw approval in them. The man handed him another potion, and Harry drank it without hesitation. He tasted rosemary and citrus again.

This time, Remus explained, “This potion will help you restore your magical core. That means the magic you have in you, Harry. It’s a little tired right now because your magic had to work hard to keep you healthy.” Harry wasn’t sure he understood but he felt like Remus was talking about the Dursleys and felt incomprehensibly embarrassed by that. He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and slowly got up. He felt a lot better already, but still, he was a bit unsteady.

Remus smiled at him and got up from his crouched-down position on the floor at the same time. Harry realized the man was as tall as Severus. He extended his hand for Harry to take, leaving enough distance for Harry to decide if he would or not.

“How about we go eat something and explain some things to you, Harry?” asked the man. Harry nodded and took his hand. He quite liked Remus already, and much like Severus, Harry did not feel scared. Nice adults were not something he was used to.

The three of them went into the kitchen, which looked old but cozy. The first thing Harry noticed was the strong scent of herbs and dried flowers in the air, and he let go of Remus’ hand to hide his nose in reflex. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell but it was almost overwhelming in its strength. He tried to focus on what he saw, hoping he would get used to it. He liked the pastel yellow cabinets, the big round table with what looked like chocolates on it, the old books on the shelves, but he was most interested in the cauldron – where the scent was coming from. Mesmerized, he walked toward it, his head dizzy despite the fact he was holding his breath.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Remus followed him, apparently unbothered by the perfume. Harry looked into the cauldron, puzzled to see it empty and clean. He was tearing up, the smell was so strong. Severus came closer, his face unreadable as it seemed to be always the case. Their eyes met and something akin to realization flickered on his face, but it was so faint Harry would have missed it if he wasn’t desperately trying to communicate again with the man.

Severus seemed to hesitate for an instant before crouching down to be at eye level with Harry. “Is a smell bothering you? Something herbal, maybe?” he asked, the hint of a frown on his lips.

Harry nodded, and Severus immediately gave him another potion. Harry gulped it down and was relieved to have the scent ease off enough for him to breathe without his throat burning. Severus turned slightly towards Remus, who, contrary to Severus, let his face display openly his emotions. Harry wondered why him smelling some herbs was alarming for the man.

“Harry, you seem to be exceptionally sensitive to magic”, Severus told them, “and I can’t give you more potion until you have something to eat.” He got up and mentioned to the table, “Sit down and let me explain as you eat.”

Remus spoke warmly, hiding his worry behind cheerfulness, “What do you think about some toast?” Harry nodded, happy to eat something he knew and enjoyed, but mostly relieved it was quick to prepare. He realized now he was starving. As Remus got busy, he patiently waited for Severus to speak, but the man seemed to want Harry to have eaten first.

After a few minutes, Remus put a plate in front of Harry with a mountain of toast on it and honey on the side. Harry looked up, surprised at the amount of food.

“I’m sorry, I only have honey here. We will do some grocery shopping tomorrow, alright?” Remus said, with his ever-present soft smile. Harry tentatively smiled back, trying to convey his gratefulness. The shadows around Remus’ eyes lifted a bit, and the man gestured at Harry to eat as he sat down next to him.

Harry picked up some toast and started eating. Severus shared a look with Remus and talked.

“Let’s start at the beginning. Magic is real, and you are a wizard, like Remus and I are. That means that when you turn eleven, you will get a letter that invites you to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a boarding school for witches and wizards, where young wixen learn the art of magic. Your parents, Remus, and I attended Hogwarts.” Harry was already absorbing every word with rapt attention, but his eyes went wide at the mention of his parents. He stood up suddenly, his food forgotten.

His parents were magical, like he was. Remus and Severus knew his parents!

He must have looked anxious to know more, because Remus smiled sadly at him and said, “James and Lily were my best friends. I can tell you about them if you would like.” Harry desperately nodded. He knew nothing. Nothing but the fact that they died in a car accident and that they were drunks. Since he was old enough to understand he had parents of his own, he had pestered Aunt Petunia again and again to have more information about them, and she had never, ever told him anything more than that. He met Severus’ eyes.

“Harry. Do you know how your parents died?” Severus asked, somewhat abruptly; Remus inhaled sharply. Harry felt like the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees suddenly. He held the man’s gaze and thought hard, drunk driving. Severus’ eyes flashed in a way that scared Harry a little.

“Lupin,” he snapped, his voice cold as ice, as he got up and rushed out of the room. Harry wondered how he had angered the man. Maybe the telepathy thing was bad? The temperature rose again as Harry looked distressingly at the scarred man. Remus seemed devastated but smiled valiantly at Harry as he took his hands in his.

“A few years before your birth, there was a dark wizard who tried to take control of the wizarding society. There was a war. He was very powerful, and a lot of people died while trying to oppose him,” Remus said, his warm hands holding Harry’s in a comforting grip, “Your parents stood up to him and were killed in their house.” Remus took a shaky breath. “Somehow, when he cursed you, the curse rebounded and hit him instead, and he died that night. I believe it was due to a protection spell from your mother, Harry. Your parents died protecting you.”

Harry, embarrassingly, felt tears running down his face. His parents had not abandoned him. They had protected him. They had loved him. He wiped at his face, trying hard not to sniff.

Remus gave him a tissue and held Harry's hand as he tried to stop crying.

“That’s not what your aunt and uncle told you, then?” he asked.

Harry shook his head, his hands hiding his face. Remus nodded gravely.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. When your parents died, it was decided that you would go with family. At that time, I was unfit to raise a child. I want you to know that I would have anyway, if I had known you weren’t in a good place. This… this should never have happened.”

Harry let his hands fall to his side and met the kind amber eyes. Remus looked regretful beyond measure. Harry wondered what it would have been like, to live somewhere else than at the Dursleys. He was suddenly too exhausted to be able to imagine it.

“I know this is a lot to take in. How about you try to eat some more?” Remus suggested.

Wordlessly, Harry sat back down on his chair and started picking at his toast again. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he wanted Remus to be happy. He glanced back and forth between his plate and the door where Severus had left. Remus caught him and said, “Don’t worry. It’s a difficult subject for Severus, he just needed a bit of space.” Harry tilted his head, wondering why it was so. Remus had said he was best friends with his parents. Was Severus also a friend of his parents?

Remus continued, understanding Harry’s curiosity, “It is not my place to explain, but the war was a very difficult time for him. If you ask, he will answer your questions, I think.”

Harry hoped he would.

Remus sat back in his chair and smiled at Harry again. “Do you have any questions for me maybe?”

Harry did. He wanted to know about magic. He wanted to know what would happen to him.

He had never dared dreamt past his parents coming to get him and leaving. He wondered if he could stay with Remus and Severus. They seemed nice enough. Severus had taken him away and healed him. Remus had fed him and told him about his parents’ death and held his hand. Harry did not know what more could he ask for.

Everything was unknown to him. What was he supposed to answer to Remus’ question? He shook his head, feeling defeated. He really wanted to keep trying the telepathy thing with Severus, but the man had left. Remus was nice, but Harry did not know how to speak to him, so he didn’t.

Remus looked concerned by Harry’s lack of answer but did not push. Instead, he waited for him to clear his plate and showed him around the house. Liora’s cottage, as Remus explained, was safe; they could stay here, the two of them. Remus cautioned against leaving the garden, though, because it was important that no one knew Harry wasn’t with the Dursleys anymore. Apparently, the person who decided to let Harry with his aunt would not agree to let him leave. Harry nodded along; he would do anything not to go back to Privet Drive.

Remus did tell him they could go out though, but under a disguise. The cottage was situated somewhere in Wales, pretty close to the sea, which amazed Harry – he couldn’t believe he had traveled that far away with Severus. For now, Remus was pointing out each room in turn, taking the time to explain the history of the house and letting Harry get a good look at the furniture and the shelves.

It wasn’t a big house by any means, and Harry loved it immediately. The ceilings on the ground floor were quite low, which gave the kitchen, the living room, the reading room and the small bathroom a very comforting aura. As they climbed the stairs, Harry was amused to see that the collection of books had also taken over the wall alongside the staircase. He had never seen that many books in one house before. Remus told him his grandmother was responsible for maybe half of it, the rest was his own doing.

On the upper floor, Remus showed Harry the bigger bathroom and his own bedroom before opening the door to a second, slightly smaller bedroom. In the center of it sat a cozy bed with a thick, dark blue quilt. There was a small wooden desk against the wall, with a matching chair. There was what looked like to be parchment and a quill on the desk. In one corner, a plush armchair sat beside a bookshelf, overflown with a variety of books like all the other shelves in the house. On the ground, a deep grey rug sprawled across the room and Harry could feel how soft it was as he stood on it with his socked feet. A big window looked into the garden, which Remus told him they could explore tomorrow.

“What do you think about your bedroom?” asked Remus. Harry turned to him, unable to believe his ears. He caught the man’s cardigan between his fingers, needing to touch something to ground himself.

His bedroom. Harry’s room.

He turned toward the room, his room, once again, and saw it in a new light. His bed. His desk. His bookshelf.

He realized he was shaking when Remus kneeled next to him and opened his arms, inviting Harry into a hug. Harry hesitated briefly before stepping into the open arms and burying his face against the man’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” whispered Remus, “I’m doing it all wrong. You don’t have to go back, ever. You’re staying with me, here in this house. This is your bedroom. I’ll take care of you, alright?”

Harry couldn’t even nod. He let out shaky breath after shaky breath, not quite crying but not trusting himself to let go of Remus without losing it. He had felt overwhelmed ever since Severus had come into the house at Privet Drive. He had been met with nothing but kindness and this was all too much to process. After a few minutes, Harry felt slightly better and moved back. Remus smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

“You think you can sleep?” asked Remus. Harry nodded, thoroughly exhausted after his emotional outburst. After giving him pajamas – and apologizing that they were old because they were Remus’ when he was a child, but Harry liked how soft they were -  and telling him that Harry could come and find him anytime, even in his bedroom, Remus left. He left the door slightly ajar, and Harry was grateful for the string of light that was spilling on the carpet and wall of the bedroom. His bedroom. He still couldn’t believe it.

He thought about what had happened today as he settled into his bed. He had started to feel hopeful for the future at some point during the evening, which scared him. His uncle and aunt had played tricks on him often, and he really did not want to feel the burning sensation of disappointment and humiliation if it all came crumbling down like he was used to. He wanted to trust Remus and Severus. Remus would be easy to trust, he thought. He was still feeling warm from the hug and wondered if he would agree to hug him again tomorrow, just because. Harry had never felt so safe in his life.

But while Remus had clearly stated that he would be there with Harry, the young boy was not so sure about Severus. Remus had not mentioned Severus during the tour of the cottage. Wasn’t the man staying there as well? Did he just come to get Harry and that was it? He hoped not. He had a lot of questions for the man, the most urgent one being how could he read his mind.

Harry fell asleep that night thinking about magical patterns in mismatched vials, his arm tingling due to the potion, his belly full, and overall more comfortable than he could ever remember.

Notes:

They are trying so hard, okay.

See you next week!

Chapter 6

Notes:

Excellent news! I'm almost done writing this story. I've finished chapter 15 yesterday, and for now I'm at around 37k words :) I estimate the chapter count at 17. I will now be posting twice a week, on Monday and Thursday!

Remus let out a sigh as he came down the stairs and walked into the kitchen, overcome by the events of the day. All his senses were on high alert, his wrists and legs were hurting, and he could tell it wasn’t just the consequences of the full moon. Thank fuck it had been a forgiving one. He had been progressively more injured and weaker each month since his friends’ deaths, but the last transformation had not gone too badly – broken bones healed by Snape’s potions, some nasty new scars, a whole lot of pain, but no punctured lungs. He couldn’t have dealt with lasting injuries and cared for Harry. Which is why he had accepted Snape’s offer for Wolfsbane; Harry needed him on top of his form, or at least as good as he could get.

Harry, who was in bed, hopefully asleep.

Harry, who had looked at him with Lily’s eyes and James’ face, and who already trusted him quite a lot given the circumstances.

Harry, Remus knew, who would love him unconditionally if Remus did the bare minimum. Remus would not do the bare minimum. He would give Harry the happy childhood James and Lily would have given their child if they had had the chance.

Remus did not know where to start to make Harry happy, but he also could not afford to fuck up. To start, he would sort out whatever sent Snape running away. They would talk about Harry. Then Remus would plan, and he would fix things. Remus closed his eyes tightly and took deep breaths, standing in the kitchen of the house he had hidden in on and off for the past few years to heal and forget the packs. The time of surviving and hiding had come to an end; it was time to face the music and fight.

Merlin, he needed a cigarette.

He understood that Snape would not want to be the one telling Harry about his parents’ death – and agreed that the anger he had displayed was not an excessive reaction to a boy saying he had no idea how his parents had died -, but he wished the man hadn’t fled. Harry had been distressed by the man’s mood change and departure. And though Remus had no idea why or how the fuck it came to be, he could see that the child liked the potion master.

Which meant it was up to Remus to keep Snape around, for Harry’s sake.

Which meant Remus had to deal with whatever self-loathing spiral the man had gotten himself into.

Remus was left wrong-footed when it came to Snape. They had changed quite a bit, it was true. From friends to whatever they were in third year to enemies to soldiers and spies on different sides of a war, to now back to a state where they were not at risk of hexing each other anymore (Remus hoped Snape agreed with that part), not much was left from the two children that had met in a potion class as first years.

But Remus saw some patterns that had not changed in fifteen years. It was still the same mind magic, metallic and elusive; it was still the same coldness in every move, every single thing he did deliberate, calculated. It was still the same piercing dark eyes, assessing, sizing you up. And it was the same will to do good despite how difficult it might be, Remus knew.

He still didn’t understand what made Snape turn to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he never would. Because he knew Severus Snape was not a bad person. Severus Snape had been troubled beyond measure when they were teenagers, and yet. Sirius and James had been bigger assholes than he ever was, had made worse decisions, had caused more pain to others than Snape did. And in the end, even when Snape seemed to have taken a path he could not come back from, Sirius had been the one who destroyed everything.

Remus wondered if he was wrong about Snape like he had been wrong about Sirius. He was a fool, to trust someone’s words again, after everything. He knew he wouldn’t survive another betrayal. He would never heal from the previous one. He would forever look back and wonder if he had done things differently, if he had not been what he was, maybe he could have saved them. 

And now, faced with the choice to trust or not a man who had already done the worst thing he could ever do, Remus found himself listening to him and believing him. Snape wanted Harry to be okay, even if Harry was James’ son.

The man had come to him when he had needed help, for fuck’s sake. He also had saved him in 1981, against his will – which he would have felt angry about, in other circumstances. Remus felt like it gave him the right to go out in the garden and get Snape out of his brooding. The werewolf thought that at least now that they had a blood pact, the other man wouldn’t be able to attack him directly when Remus put his nose somewhere Snape did not want him to. The potion master could probably find a way to circumvent the wards and poison him, but alas, that was the risk when dealing with Severus Snape.

Ironically calmed down by this fact of life, Remus stepped out of the kitchen and into the garden through the back door.

Snape was kneeling beside the small pond, visible in the night thanks to the light of the still mostly full moon. Remus’s steps faltered for a second as he stared at him, seizing the chance to look at the man unabashedly for once. The moonlight was casting shades on his face, tipped toward the ground, highlighting the contours of his strong nose and reflecting off his hair, still as thick and beautiful as it was when they were teenagers. His eyes looked blank and he was expressionless, though Remus knew it was the face that Snape wore when he was in pain.

Remus had seen that same exact look countless times at Hogwarts. Every time someone talked about their summer’s plans, or their family. Every time he and Lily had gotten into a fight. Every time Remus went back to his Gryffindor friends. And then he hadn’t seen that look again, because they had not been looking at each other anymore.

“There you are,” he said, making his presence known to Snape as he started walking again. It wasn’t because he believed they wouldn’t attack each other that he was keen to test it by startling the man. Snape did not react and did not move from his spot. He had his hands in the water, undoubtedly cold even in the heart of summer, a slight tremor betrayed by the tiny ripples on the surface of the pond. It still strongly smelt of metal around Snape, and Remus wondered how strong the mind magic had gotten. He could tell it was hurting the man.

Remus did not ask if Snape was okay, for two reasons: it was obvious that he wasn’t, and Snape would not appreciate any form of pity. So instead, Remus stopped a few feet away from the man and put his own hands in the pocket of his pants, masquerading nonchalance.

“Harry’s asleep,” he calmly said.

Severus nodded, his hands still in the water. Remus wondered if he had been like this since he had left the kitchen.

“Why did you leave?” he continued, determined to get through the difficult conversation, whether Snape liked it or not.

The man answered after a beat, “He told me they were alcoholics and died in a car crash.”

“Told- he doesn’t speak,” Remus said, appalled by the cruelty of the lie Harry had been told but even more surprised at Snape’s choice of words. Harry had not uttered a single word yet.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Explain.”

Snape stayed silent for a few seconds. He got up, wandlessly and wordlessly dried his hands with a flick of his wrists, and turned to face Remus fully. The moonlight hit his dark eyes and Remus was glad for his lycanthropy for once: he felt like Snape could look right through him.

“I’m unsure of the exact nature of it, but it’s some sort of magic. He’s… pushing his thoughts outside, toward my mind. I have never seen anything like that,” said Snape, his voice even.

This was not a reassuring admission from someone as skilled at occlumency and legilimency as Snape. Most people would not even be aware of the man’s extraordinary talent for the mind magics, but Remus’ sensitivity to magic was heightened because of his condition. He could tell Snape was occluding, just like he could tell when someone was using magic. He had not felt any unusual magic from Harry, apart from the strong charred smell due to the repressed magic, which he was planning to sort out as soon as possible.

Snape continued, “I don’t think he is aware that he is communicating a lot more than just words. He tried to tell me two words, drunk driving, but I also saw glimpses of his aunt telling him about his parents, as well as his feelings on the matter.”

Remus committed Snape’s explanation to memory, determined to research thought transference at the first opportunity. Harry had displayed strong sensitivity to magic too, when he smelled the remnants of the potions brewed in the cauldron. Remus could also do it, but Harry wasn’t a creature. The man mentally added magical sensitivity to the list of subjects he needed to master.

“Is he mute?” he asked then, hating that he didn’t know. Harry had talked when he was a toddler. Remus had heard Harry talk a few months before James and Lily’s deaths. But he had no idea what Harry’s life had been like since then.

“Again, I’m unsure.”

Remus nodded. He was readjusting everything he had planned to cater to Harry’s needs. Harry was communicating through nods and headshakes, and that was something to build on. He might only need some time to adjust and trust them. Remus still added sign language and communication boards to the list.

“And his magical sensitivity?”

“Probably simply due to repressed magic,” said Snape, and Remus agreed, “but he also has two very magical powerful parents, and he survived a curse no one had ever survived. It could be his natural magic.” That was a scary thought. Though Remus believed the reason for Harry’s surviving the killing curse was some sort of magic of Lily’s doing, there was another explanation: Harry’s own magic. But a baby, surviving the killing curse on his own? It was hard to believe. Snape didn’t look convinced either.

“How bad was it?”, tried Remus, taking advantage of Snape’s unusual forthrightness.

And to his astonishment, Snape replied. “He was kept in a cupboard. No bed. No blanket. Just a dusty, small cupboard under the stairs.” Snape’s voice was a whisper, barely audible.

Remus was stunned as he realized the measure of the abuse Harry had gone through. That some people could feel such hate, such violence towards a child, keeping him in conditions most people wouldn’t keep dogs in. The bruises. The skinniness. The dehydration. The muteness. He knew it was probably not the worst of it, that Harry had suffered more than any child ever should. Remus thought about Harry’s reaction to his bedroom and vowed to spoil him rotten.

Just as he was about to ask more questions, Remus heard the sound of a glass shattering in the kitchen.

Notes:

As a wise woman (fleabag) once said : Hair is everything, we wish it wasn't so we could actually think about something else occasionally. But it is.

I haven’t watched the movies, and I imagine Severus as a beautiful man - in an unconventional way- with beautiful hair. He protects them with rosemary oil when he makes his potions, and it’s absolutely gorgeous and healthy thanks to that. And he has a strong nose and it’s absolutely lovely. And Remus has great taste, of course.

See you on Monday!

Chapter 7

“Harry, are you okay?” asked Lupin as they entered the kitchen. The child was on the floor, trying to pick up glass shards with his bare hands and shaking like a leaf. Severus shot his wand from its holster into his hand. He wordlessly repaired the glass and vanished the water that had spilled on the ground. Harry did not seem hurt, and Severus thought better than to crowd him. Lupin seemed on the same page as they both kept their distance from the boy, who had not moved from his spot.

Harry lifted his face towards them, absolute fear showing in his green eyes. It was like looking into a pensieve. A child cowering in fear, a man towering over him. Harry was small for his age, and the pajamas that the wolf had given him were hanging on his frame. 

Severus shared a look with Lupin, and they both sat down on the floor, conscious that the size difference between Harry and them would be terrifying for the child.

Lupin said, calm and warm, “It’s okay, Harry. You are not in trouble.” Harry looked unconvinced, his tiny hands in fists at his side, his eyes darting between them and the door. Severus made a conscious effort to appear relaxed and sat back, his weight on his hands behind him. Lupin, on his right, moved slightly to put his hand under his chin, his elbow resting on his knee.

It was useless, as Harry seemed to be working himself into a panic attack, his breaths coming out in gasps. Severus should get out of here, he thought. He had no right. He would probably make things worse; he had no idea how to deal with people’s feelings, let alone the feelings of a traumatized child. As he moved to get up, their eyes met.

I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to please I won’t do it again please I’m sorry

Severus paused. He let his shields down for a split second to see what would happen, the river stopping its run. Immediately, he was hit by a wave of feelings, mostly fear. He brought his shields back up, protecting himself from Harry’s emotions.

“Harry,” he tried, “it’s alright.” It’s alright, he said again, this time mentally, putting the thought outside of his mind shields for Harry to grab, if the child could.

Harry’s eyes widened, the stream of apologies slowing down. Severus continued, still reeling from the shock of being able to communicate like this when he was occluding, We are not going to hurt you. Not now, not ever. You are safe.

Severus was not using any spell on Harry, and he was not using legilimency on the child. There was no reason for him to hear his thoughts. On its own, it would have caused concern; Harry’s thoughts out in the open like this was very bad news when they were supposed to hide him. But what was truly both remarkable and worrying was the fact that Harry could hear his thoughts. The conversation was not one-sided; it wasn’t just a matter of Harry somehow doing the opposite of occluding, it was a child communicating with another mind, without any spells or conscious magic. Severus did not allow himself to think of Harry as a natural legilimens.

Severus kept his eyes on Harry, his mind carefully blank and quiet. Say something, he thought.

Are you reading my mind? Harry’s voice was loud and clear, but Severus’ mind was also assaulted by images of muggle pop culture references he only just understood – Star Wars, of all things-, and a sense of awe that came from the boy, which Severus realized the child would feel for anything remotely magical. Harry seemed to be fascinated by magic, which painfully reminded Severus of Lily.

I don’t believe this is what is happening, he answered, still feeling deeply uncomfortable by the conversation’s nature.

What is it, then?, asked Harry. Severus thought about his answer for a second.

“Harry. I will talk out loud, for Lu- Remus’ sake. But you can keep talking to me… telepathically,” Severus said. Lupin’s output could be helpful. The werewolf’s eyes were firmly on Harry, focused and probably dissecting every breath the child took.

Alright, the child answered.

Severus nodded, satisfied, “There are two magical practices that come to mind, when one thinks about what muggles, non-magical people, call telepathy: legilimency and occlumency. The first allows a skilled wizard to magically navigate a person’s mind; the second may be used to shield one’s mind from the first.”

Harry was drinking his every word, and Severus could hear the echo of them in the young boy’s mind through their connection. Harry was apparently able to let Severus hear sentences on command, but he wasn’t able to shut him out of his mind.

“However, there is no such thing as mind-reading. The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. A skilled legilimens is able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly,” he continued. Severus had used the terms victim for a reason; legilimency was frowned upon, and even more after the Dark Lord’s use of the art.

The child had caught the underlying sense and worry took over his mind; Harry was wondering if he was doing something illegal. Severus was saddened to see that the child was barely worrying about himself.

“I’m not using legilimency on you, Harry. And you are not using legilimency either; it requires a spell and years of practice. On top of this, I am an occlumens. I have very strong shields that you can’t breach. You’re however able to hear the sentences I put outside of these shields.”

You are not doing anything wrong, he thought at Harry.

“Communicating like you can, by pushing sentences towards me and hearing my answers… is not something I have come across before,” he stated.

“But…” Severus hesitated. That was why Lupin would be so much better at this than him.

Thankfully, the werewolf understood what he wanted to say and jumped in.

“It’s okay,” said Lupin, “you can keep doing it. We will figure it out.” The man smiled warmly at Harry, and Severus marveled for one moment at how natural it was for Lupin to be this figure of calm strength, to be reliable and soothing. Naturally likable, even.

Harry’s eyes were fixed on Lupin, and Severus realized what the boy would ask before he even turned his gaze on him again.

Remus can’t hear me.

Severus was at a loss for an answer.

“Harry is asking why he can’t talk with you.” The child froze, and Severus could tell it had been the wrong thing to say. He cringed internally at his indelicateness. He should have said something along the lines of mind reading, not hinted at the child’s inability or unwillingness to speak out loud.

Lupin nodded, pretending to not see the tension in the child’s body at Severus’ tactless sentence.

“I’m a werewolf. Werewolves’ minds work differently from wixen,” he said casually, “legilimency does not work on me, nor can I occlude.”

The child relaxed, shockingly.

It’s not because of me?, he asked, looking at Severus again.

Severus, speechless at Harry’s reaction, shook his head.

“Werewolves transform once a month, during the full moon. I’m in my human form the rest of the time,” Lupin explained, not adding anything about what it meant. Severus thought Lupin was not doing a great job at reassuring the child about being a dark creature. He knew, from their Hogwarts days, that Lupin had hidden the truth so thoroughly for years that it would be extremely painful to admit to the child he was a werewolf. It would be equally difficult to present himself as harmless. And yet.

He’s not dangerous, Harry thought to Severus, with absolute confidence, despite Lupin’s reticence to say it himself. 

No, he isn’t, Severus answered, astonished but needing Harry to be aware that the wolf could be trusted.

Harry nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

“You’re not afraid of me?” Lupin asked, pretending to be unaffected, but not fooling Severus.

The child shook his head and smiled shyly at Lupin. The wolf’s answering grin was blinding, his amber eyes sparkling like they used to when they were teenagers. Lupin got up and walked towards Harry, who took his hand without hesitation to pull himself up. Severus rose as well and busied himself by filling a glass with water to avoid looking at the touching picture Harry and Lupin certainly made.

He gave the glass to Harry, who thanked him way too seriously for such a small gesture, before slowly sipping on it as they moved to the living room. The child and the werewolf sat down on the sofa, while Severus stayed standing next to the window. Harry did not look ready to go back to bed and now was a good time as ever to explain what lycanthropy was.

Lupin talked quietly to Harry about werewolves and other magical creatures for a few minutes, the child looking intently at the man and nodding along. Severus did not interrupt, and it seemed like Harry was happy just to listen as he did not turn toward Severus once. Only when it came to the full moon and Lupin’s need to isolate did the child look worryingly at Severus.

“Severus will come and look over you during the full moon, Harry. Is that okay?” asked Lupin.

Only during the full moon?, the child asked.

Severus nodded.

Harry looked disappointed, which Severus understood: Harry would rather stay with Lupin. Who wouldn’t? But it was only a night a month, and Harry did not complain.

Lupin chatted for a little while about a variety of subjects, going over the Hogwarts curriculum, quidditch, and some of his favorite spells that he promised Harry he would demonstrate. Harry was drinking his every word and Severus almost felt regretful that he would miss the child’s first steps with magical education. Harry looked completely relaxed now, and his eyelids were starting to drop though he was fighting it, obviously wanting to hear more about magic.

Severus, not wanting the child to fall asleep again before he could treat his injuries, took advantage of a lull in Lupin’s retelling of his first-ever time on a broom to give Harry some bruise paste. The child looked embarrassed but thanked him and shoved the vial in the pocket of his pajama bottoms.

Lupin and Harry left, the child needing to sleep and the wolf obviously struggling to stay awake any longer. Severus nodded as Harry looked back one last time, silently assuring him he would be there the next day. Indeed, Lupin and himself had a lot to cover still, and it would be better if Severus stayed a little more. One night would not hurt. He lay down on the sofa, not bothering to transfigure it into a bed, and fell asleep listening to the beat of Lupin’s wards.

Notes:

I took some lines verbatim from the books – well the internet, I don’t own the books in English - for the explanation on the mind arts. I wish I could imitate Severus’ speech pattern better but my vocabulary is limited and I always worry that it sounds weird to native speakers if I use new words, haha. Something I will keep working on for my next fic, for sure!

I want to thank anyone who has left kudos and comments <3 they are really motivating so a big THANK YOU for reading and interacting!

See you in 3 days :)

Chapter 8

When Harry woke up the next morning, he wondered why it was so bright in his cupboard. He thought for a few seconds he had dreamed it all before he registered that he was in a bed, his bed, in Remus’ old pajamas. He breathed in the scent of the magic around him, stronger again this morning but not overpowering like yesterday. He could hear voices downstairs and hesitated for a minute before deciding it was probably safe to go down. 

He took a minute to look at the garden from the window, excited to see there was a pond. He could not see what lay beyond though, as trees and bushes hid anything from view. Harry did not mind: he felt protected in this house. After a detour by the bathroom, where Harry realized the bruises on his arms had disappeared, Harry went down the stairs, uneasy about the noise the stairs were making, creaking under his weight. At Privet Dive, he never made a noise.

He entered the kitchen, relieved to see both Severus and Remus sitting at the table and drinking coffee. Remus brightly smiled at him, got up, and immediately started fixing him a cup of tea and a bowl of porridge. Severus nodded at him like he had last night, the small inclination of his head the only greeting the man seemed to do.

He was glad when the adults started conversing together again, feeling too shy to meet Severus’ eye and try to speak to him. They were going over what they should do today. Their conversation was stilted, the silences too long to be comfortable as each man seemed to ponder what the other had said before answering. Remus seemed to make quite the effort to be cheerful, but Severus was not having it. Still, Remus was unperturbed, infusing warmth in every word and looking at Harry often to include him.

“Feeling up for some shopping today?”, asked Remus, sitting down next to Harry after putting three bowls on the table. Severus lifted an eyebrow at Remus, looking unimpressed by being included in breakfast, before he started to eat. Harry nodded to answer Remus, though he was unsure about leaving the house. His spoon hovered in the air over his bowl. The kind man must have picked on his reluctance as he started detailing what they would do.

“We are going to Diagon Alley. It’s a shopping area for wixen, I think you might enjoy it. We will start by visiting Gringotts, which is a bank – run by Goblins, remember what I told you about them last night?” Remus said, sipping on his tea, “so we can check if your parents had put something in place for you. Is that okay?” Harry gave the tiniest nod, wondering exactly what something in place meant.

“And then, we will do some shopping. We can’t be too long, but you will have time to get a good look at the magical shops.” Harry was excited to see what it looked like and started eating his porridge in earnest, excited to leave. Remus smiled at him, and Harry thought he could see the hint of an amused smirk on Severus’ lips.

“We will have to disguise ourselves, Harry”, said Severus, “We will use a spell on us that will make us look like different people. It will feel odd at first.” The man paused, waiting for Harry to agree. Harry hummed and immediately dropped his spoon to hide his mouth, embarrassed by the noise he made. Severus continued as if nothing had happened, “But first I will have to make sure you can support the apparition and the disguise. May I?”

Harry nodded, his eyes firmly on his bowl. He picked up his spoon and focused on eating as Severus made intricate patterns with his wand. The man put his wand away after a few instants and produced a vial from a hidden pocket in his robes, “Take this when you are done eating. I expected you to need more time, but you’re healing quickly. A few more nights of good sleep and enough food will do the rest.”

Once they were done eating, Harry took his potion, the tingle now familiar, and changed back into his clothes from the day before. Remus sized down a pair of shoes for him, sorry that they didn’t fit him well. They all stood in the garden, Harry looking around curiously, smelling salt in the air. Remus did some complicated-looking wand movement over the other man while muttering under his breath, and suddenly Severus’ hair was shorter and lighter, his skin darker, his eyes farther away from each other. The changes were subtle, but Harry would not have recognized the man if he hadn’t seen his transformation.

Severus’s hand went to his hair and he scowled. Remus said something about not looking like a pureblood when they had a child with them to not attract attention and Severus huffed in answer, before using his wand to do the same process on Remus. Remus looked even more different, blonde and paler, and Harry was disappointed to see that the amber eyes had been replaced by a dull brown. The scars were also gone, and Remus smiled sadly at the smooth skin of his hands before turning to Harry.

“Your turn, Harry. Don’t worry, it’s painless.” Harry had not worried, he was just excited to feel magic again, wondering if it was different from a potion. As soon as Remus raised his wand, he felt his skin prickle all over. He could not see any difference in his skin color, but Remus seemed done, so he ran to the pond to look at himself in the reflection. He squinted at the water. The patch of white in his hair was gone, replaced by a uniform dark brown, and so was his scar, his forehead strangely smooth. His eyes were brown, like Remus’, but the man had not changed any other traits.

He looked over where the men were. Severus nodded tersely and gestured for Harry to come. “Is it okay?” asked Remus, as Harry approached again. Harry took his left hand, slightly disappointed he did not look more different. He wondered how far one could stretch the transformation. Could one give oneself wings?

Severus kneeled in front of Harry. His eyes bored into Harry’s, as if he was trying to see beyond the disguise. “Harry. You must not hold eye contact with any wizards we might meet. Do you understand?” Harry nodded, and Severus stood up, satisfied.

He looked them over one last time, took Remus’ right hand in his, and they disappeared with a pop.

****

Diagon Alley was a lot to take in. Thankfully, it was quite early in the morning, and the streets were mostly empty, with only a few wizards shopping at that time of the day. As planned, they started by going to Gringotts, where Harry tried his best to be polite to the Goblins while not looking at them directly in the eye, remembering what Remus had told him about their culture. He and Remus parted ways with Severus, who had business to take care of privately.

Harry regretfully looked over his shoulder as Severus marched away to another room, his robes billowing behind him. The door closed behind him and Remus whisked him away in an adjacent corridor. As they followed a Goblin into the Potter’s vault, Remus quietly explained to Harry that Goblins kept wixen’s secrets, and that most ancient families, like the Potters were, kept not only their gold in Gringotts but also anything that the family might want to safely store.

“We might find some pictures of your parents, Harry,” Remus said. Before Harry could react, they found themselves in front of the Potter’s vault and were let in. Inside, the first thing Harry noticed was the absolute mess the vault was in. It looked like a small tornado had gone through it. Shelves lined the walls, sagging under the weight of the objects stacked on them, every inch of space used. Over them were numerous portraits, and Harry did a double take when he saw the people inside the paintings were moving and even talking. He quickly hid behind Remus’ legs when he realized they were all looking and pointing at him. He focused his eyes on the ground, where, in between various pieces of furniture, laid papers and books and even more trinkets. He then noticed the smell in the room and inhaled deeply when he recognized milk and honey and something earthy. He was overwhelmed by the excited chatter that came from the portraits, but the scent comforted him. 

“The Potter heir, it’s the Potter heir,” he heard a woman’s voice somewhere on his right.

Remus cleared his throat and said, loud and clear over the cacophony, “Yes, this is Harry Potter, the son of James Potter and Lily Evans. I’m Remus Lupin. Would you let us pick some things from the vault?”

A murmur of agreement swept through the room, and Remus thanked them. He turned around slightly and looked at where Harry was still hiding, his face smushed against Remus’ thigh. He did not want to meet the weird, unfamiliar brown eyes.

“Are you alright?”, he asked. Harry nodded against the fabric of Remus’ pants. “I’m going to grab what we need, and we will go,” he continued, his hand in Harry’s hair. Reluctantly, Harry let go of his leg and stood there, his eyes on the ground as Remus patted his head before quickly going around the room. He came back with what looked like photo albums and an old grimoire and showed them to the Goblin, who grunted in what Harry guessed was agreement.

Remus put what he had found in his satchel, took Harry’s hand, and they left. Harry did not look back, the voices of the portrait getting louder in agitation as the doors of the vault closed behind them. They followed the Goblin to the main lobby again, where Remus discussed with him. Harry did not listen, still thinking about the portraits and how weird they had made him feel.

He was glad when they left the bank. Severus was waiting for them a few feet away from the exit and Harry excitedly ran to him. He fisted his hand in the man’s robes, happy to see him, even if he did not like Severus’ fake face. Severus, for once, and maybe because it was not his real face, looked surprised at Harry’s gesture, but Harry did not let go, undeterred. He felt so much better when all three of them were together.

Hi, he thought hard, focusing on the unchanged color of Severus’ eyes.

After a beat, the man answered, Hello, child. Harry grinned, happy.

Remus caught up to them, his hand hiding his face, and let out a weird cough. Severus, without a word, started walking up the alley. Harry followed very closely, his hand still in the man’s robes.

“You were right. Lily had a fund put up, charmed to only allow expenses for Harry,” Remus said to the other man, a smile in his voice as he walked next to Harry. Harry grabbed his free hand.

Severus looked over Harry, his eyes pausing briefly on the small hand holding him close and then on Remus. “Very well. Let’s start with clothes, then.”

They went to a small, colorful shop where a young witch greeted them and immediately cooed over Harry. Severus stood awkwardly next to the exit as Remus and Harry were escorted around the shop, picking a variety of clothes the werewolf thought Harry would need, the witch going back and forth to put them on the cash desk. Remus asked Harry’s opinion on every piece of clothing, and Harry mostly nodded, unable to believe he had a say in the matter.

They then went to a bookstore, where Remus kept picking up books and putting them back down. Severus was following him and adding the books the werewolf had put back to his own pile, ignoring the man’s protests. Harry was watching them from the children’s section, where Remus had said he could pick anything he wanted. He hesitantly picked a book with a dragon on the cover and went to show it to Remus, who smiled brightly at him. Severus paid for his books and the ones he had picked from Remus, Remus grumbled but allowed it.

Their final stop was at a potion shop, where Severus needed some ingredients. The adults shared a look.

“Harry, let’s go next door, alright? Severus will meet us inside in a few minutes.” “Next door” was a pet store, or at least the magical equivalent. Harry wanted to ask why he could not go with Severus but he forgot his question as soon as they entered, completely awed by the variety of animals the store sold. He walked around, looking at the owls, the big cats (kneazles, Remus told him), the toads, the snakes. Remus was following him, half a step behind him.

Harry stopped in front of a terrarium, curious about the vivid green snake lazily slithering in the sand. “Oriental whip snake, moderately venomous”, read the werewolf out loud.  

Harry’s eyes met the snake’s yellow ones. He briefly wondered if he was allowed to look into the eyes of an animal before remembering that Severus had been talking about wixen, not snakes.

Hello, he thought. You’re pretty.

Why, thank you, sssmall human, hissed the snake, and Harry let out a gasp, shocked.

You can hear me?, he asked, and the snake approached the glass of the terrarium, his tongue peeking out.

Yesss, why ssshouldn’t I?   

Harry had no answer to this.

What is your name?, he asked, instead.

I do not have a name, sssmall human. I am a sssnake.

Oh. Well, I’m Harry.

“Do you like snakes, Harry?” asked Remus, startling him. He smiled at Remus, feeling contrite that he was so absorbed by his conversation that he forgot the man was next to him. Harry looked again at the snake, fascinated by the yellow eyes. He liked this snake, he thought.

The bell on the door rang as Severus entered the shop. Harry waved at him, happy to see that the man was already done with his shopping, before turning back to the snake.

If you don’t have a name, what can I call you?

Whatever you want, sssmall human .

Harry felt Remus leave his side to go to Severus’, who was waiting next to the cash desk. He thought about what names could fit a snake for a minute, not wanting to offend the snake with a bad name. Before he could come up with something satisfactory, the shopkeeper walked up to the tank and picked the little snake up. Harry felt sad to see her go so soon.

“Alright, buddy, you want to carry her home or should I put her in a transport cage?”

No cage, hissed the snake. 

Harry could not believe his ears. He looked over at Remus and Severus. The werewolf grinned at him. Severus was looking at him, so Harry, still shocked, seized the opportunity and thought carry. Severus repeated his request to the shopkeeper, and Harry found himself wearing a snake like a scarf.

Thank you, she said into his ear.

Harry reached with his hand to pet her and she happily slid around his wrist, heavy and cold. Harry, euphoric, walked over to where Remus and Severus were standing. He took Remus’ hand and squeezed it, before looking at Severus and thinking Thank you. The tall man nodded, the barest trace of satisfaction in his eyes.

Both men visibly tensed when a red-haired man entered, accompanied by someone who could only be his son, a tall teenager with equally fiery hair, put in a ponytail. Harry thought the teenager looked pretty cool, but the stress that was radiating from Severus and Remus made him uneasy. He hid his face against Remus’s leg again. The snake squeezed his arm tighter.

“… But I’ll have to give it to Percy next year anyway, Dad. He seems to enjoy Hogwarts, and I’m not sure if curse-breaking is compatible with pets,” the young man was talking animatedly.

“Percy, not Charlie?” asked his father.

“Come on. Charlie will not settle for anything but a dragon.” The older man laughed easily and turned to greet the people present in the shop. Severus and Remus nodded back. Severus had stepped in front of Remus, facing him and effectively hiding Harry from view.

The teenager stopped in front of the cash desk and reached into his pocket, “We are here for my rat, he seems poorly since yesterday, his skin is all red,” he said, but before he could put the rat on the counter, he let out a yelp. “He bit me!” he exclaimed, dismay on his face. Harry’s snake started hissing loudly, saying nasssty rat and death sssmell over and over.

Harry felt Remus tense even more before they were both pushed outside of the shop by Severus, who took advantage of the commotion. Each adult grabbed one of Harry’s hands and they hurried down the street to what seemed to be the spot they had apparated to, the child struggling the keep up the pace.

Severus looked at the snake, who was still freaking out, before fixing his eyes on Harry.

Are you okay?, he asked.

Yes. She does not like the rat, Harry answered, confused.

Before Severus could reply, they got to the apparition point and disappeared in a pop.

Notes:

Is that some plot I smell under all of the fluff??

I just had to have some Weasleys in the story at some point. I just love them (especially Bill).

See you in a few days <3

Chapter 9

Crazily enough, Harry was not leaving Snape’s side, and the man clearly did not know what to do with the attention, looking torn between surprise and discomfort. Remus had to stifle a laugh every time Snape would leave a room and would find himself with Harry’s snake-free hand attached to his robes, two pairs of eyes - green and yellow - on him. Well, maybe three, with Remus’ own. It was quite adorable, how the child followed Snape, and Remus thought even Snape’s mixed reactions were endearing. Especially because it was likely Snape was secretly pleased that Harry had been drawn to a snake, out of all the pets in the store.

It was the day after their shopping trip, and Harry was settling in nicely. He was showing signs of the abuse he had gone through, though, and Remus had had to push down the rage he felt quite a few times. Harry had been shocked at being served breakfast again that morning, and it had hurt, to see a little boy surprised at being offered food.

Remus was worried about quantities, too: Harry ate everything that was put on his plate, but would not ask for more, even when it was obvious he was still hungry. Remus had tried to leave some biscuits for Harry in the kitchen, but the child would only eat them if Remus handed one to him. The man wondered if Harry also did not know how to refuse.

So Remus has repeated that Harry could eat as much as he wanted, when he wanted, and that there would always be snacks available between meals. He had put more packets on the table of the living room and some in Harry’s room, and hoped that the child would eat them on his own terms. Harry might just need more time.

But Harry was getting comfortable pretty fast, all things considered. Getting the snake had been a great idea, and Remus was happy to see that they had already formed a bond. Harry had spent the morning exploring the garden and playing hide and seek with her while Snape had left to get the missing ingredients for the wolfsbane potion. Remus knew that those weren’t to be found in Diagon Alley, and he felt even more indebted to the man.  

Speaking of Diagon Alley, Remus was deeply thankful for William’s rat. Meeting Arthur with James’ clone could have gone so bloody wrong, and the rodent had given them the perfect opportunity to escape quietly.

As soon as Snape returned from his shopping trip, the child- and by extension, the snake- had attached to him, and now the man was reluctantly showing Harry how to prepare ingredients in the kitchen of the cottage, silently demonstrating which way to cut different plants (and he was demonstrating, even though to an outsider, it looked like he was ignoring the child – Remus knew there was no way he would go this slow if it wasn’t for Harry’s sake).

It was bloody insane, really. If you had told Remus a few days ago that not only he would be in a room with Severus bloody Snape without any hexes flying, but that they were sort-of (absolutely) taking care of a child together, Remus would have checked himself into St-Mungo’s preventively.

But here they were. Remus breathed in deeply. He could smell the metallic scent of Snape’s occlumency, still strong but not as overpowering as the previous days. Remus could discern rosemary, from the oil Snape used to protect his hair from the fumes when he was brewing potions and stuck to it even after he rinsed it out, and citrus, from a homemade concoction that the man used to clean his hands. He could also smell Harry’s magic, still burnt, but now something sweeter was starting to emerge, though Remus could not tell what it was yet.

Remus focused back on the books in front of him, that Snape had, against the werewolf’s will, bought for him yesterday. They were all books about Harry’s needs, so Remus was not too annoyed, but still. He needed to find a way to make some money to care for the child, fund or not.

For now though, he was flicking through the pages of Children and Trauma, a muggle book, and comparing notes with Wixen Children aged 0-11, which was not proving as useful as Remus had hoped. Indeed, it didn’t deal with the matter of children who had survived the killing curse, were abused for years and restrained their natural magic because of it, and maybe were using a brand-new form of magic to communicate with some incredibly emotionally stunted man.

Repressed magic in children and dealing with trauma were high on his list of things to master, but he kept being distracted by another book, lying inconspicuously on the kitchen table. The Potter Grimoire, which was the reason Snape had accepted to stay another night. Remus had expected to have to insist, but the man had taken a look at it and said they needed to go over it together as soon as possible.

Remus agreed. The book reeked of dark and ancient magic, and if one were to try and protect one’s child against a madman set on killing said child, this was somewhere Lily could have searched. So, as soon as Harry had gone to bed – and it had taken a while, the child was too excited, torn between playing with his snake and reading his book, seemingly not knowing what he wanted to do more – they had sat down in the kitchen and started going through the grimoire.  

Before Remus could even open it though, Snape had said, in what Remus believed to be a tentative at humor – which had shocked the werewolf almost as much as having the man ask him to raise Harry – that Remus better not dare and commit his usual crime with this particular volume. By that he meant breaking the spine, writing in the margins, and merlin forbad, dog-earing the corners, which Remus all did shamelessly. Which was rich coming from the man who had darkened all of his potion textbooks at Hogwarts, so much that they all had become more journals than textbooks. When Remus had said as much, Snape had snorted, and retorted that it didn’t count if the books were of poor quality. 

Once again, Snape had left Lupin feeling completely destabilized. But it was nice, in a weird kind of way, to be once again leaning on a book with Snape and being on the receiving end of the sarcastic remarks the man made. Remus tried his best not to think of those nights spent together in the Hogwarts library, studying together and being chased by Pince when she eventually realized that they were not supposed to be there that late. They always sneaked back in. Both of the children were long dead and forgotten. But for once, nostalgia did not feel too painful, so if Remus did think about it, fucking sue him.

He did notice that Snape, just like himself, was paying close attention to blood wards, stopping to take notes every time they were mentioned – which was worryingly often, even in such an ancient book. Blood wards… were not good news, ever. Remus used them, but he was technically a dark creature, and had little choice. Nothing could offer such protection, and he needed them against wizards and werewolves alike. At least, that was what he told himself. He had used and abused such wards so often that in reality, it had almost become natural.

Blood wards were binding in a way that magic rarely was. Yes, unbreakable vows resulted in the death of the person who broke the vow. But blood magic… it took everything. It could erase the very existence of the wizard who had cast the magic, but it could also kill anyone who had a bond, whatever it may be, with them.

It was the reason no one ever committed to blood magic, even during the war, maybe particularly during the war, when both enemies and allies might attack, regardless of what sides they were on: blood magic was reciprocal magic. In a time where allegiances and loyalty were tested, no one would have dared bind themselves in such a way, even though blood magic could offer the highest level of protection. Remus had the thought that blood magic was not illegal due to its nature, but due to its strength.

Remus was only alive because of technicalities. It was madness, what they did as teenagers, just like his friends becoming animagi. It made sense at the time, but ten years and a whole lot of regrets later, Remus could only see the destruction they had caused with their nonchalant approach to magic.

The four-way blood pact the Marauders did was well over their ability at the time. Counting on four people, four teenagers, to give enough intent into such a ritual was an oversight. One of them – Sirius, Remus now suspected - had had reserves, and it had diluted the strength of the blood magic enough that he did not suffer any consequences for turning against James.

Remus, at first, had been desperate for the blood magic to kick in and fucking finally get rid of the last two of the Marauders, killing him as well for betraying the Potter by his lack of action. It never did. Looking at Harry, he realized it was the first time since Lily and James’ deaths that he was okay with surviving. 

Remus hoped Sirius was suffering in Azkaban, now that he had used, indirectly, his blood again to protect someone that the magic would consider Sirius’ enemy. It would probably be nothing compared to the pain of being subjected to Dementors, but it felt like revenge, still.

Remus had learned though, because of his experience with the Marauders, that blood magic cared about reciprocity, but not about how the reciprocity came to be. A strong relationship – such as friendship -, where one person felt deeply grateful for the other, was enough. Feelings could change, but the magic wouldn’t, as proved by Black’s survival. It was the intent in the blood at the time of the ritual that counted. And Remus knew all about wanting something so badly you would die for it.

The potion master could not know, but Remus had used what he felt for the friendships they had as teenagers - with Snape, and for Harry with James - to guarantee the security of the man and the child. He had not only tied the wards of his cottage to his blood and his magic, he had tied his own blood to their lives. It was a practical piece of obscure magic, what he did: the reciprocity of the bond laid in Remus’ gratefulness.

This reciprocity allowed him to tie his magic and his life to them without actually taking anything in return, which Snape would hate. He was pretty proud of his work, if he was honest with himself. If Remus died, they would be safe at Liora’s cottage. Snape – and Harry, though the child was obviously nowhere near in control of his magic to figure it out – were just as much the masters of the wards than he was.

And if Harry and Snape were ever in danger, any attack on them would be diluted to Remus, which hopefully gave them enough time to flee and save themselves.

Why had he done that? For Harry, it was simple. Harry needed an adult who was looking out for him. Remus was glad to be this person for the son of the two closest friends he ever had.

For Snape, it wasn’t so simple. Part of the reason was that Remus knew that Snape would always be able to protect Harry much better than he could, through his place at Hogwarts, his role as a spy for both sides and, now, through his ability to communicate with the child. Remus had not known about it, obviously, when he had done the wards – hell, he did not even think that the man would actually stay more than a few hours -, but he was glad he had chosen to do it this way.

But maybe, the real reason for Remus’ choice to extend the protection to Snape was that he was deeply, utterly sorry. He was sorry for what had happened when they were teenagers, for the war, for letting him down, for not saving Lily. Maybe it was a bit pathetic, how much he needed Snape to survive this shitshow, but he had never forgotten him. He desperately needed him to be okay and beat the odds. So he had ensured it, crazy as his behavior was.

It was hypocritical, Remus knew, that he was wondering if Snape knew something he wasn’t telling him, about Harry, when he had gone behind the man’s back to make him safe – which was definitely not in their “raise Harry” plan. Snape’s attention to the grimoire’s nastier parts gave him away. But Remus would not push. He knew how to pick his battles, and for some unknown reason, he trusted Snape to tell him if it was important. Maybe he really should check himself into St Mungo’s. 

Remus was so deep in thought that he at first did not notice how quiet it had gotten. Oh, the house was very quiet at all times, none of them being loud. Between a mute five years old, a werewolf who was careful to be calm at all times so as to not spook anyone, and an occlumency master who had not expressed a genuine emotion since childhood, silence was the norm. But it was lively silence, with Snape chopping and Harry watching and Remus reading, not the stillness that had suddenly fallen onto the room.

Remus looked up from the page he had his gaze on for the last ten minutes and was met by three pairs of eyes on him. Harry’s huge green eyes, panicked. The snake’s yellow ones. And Snape’s intrigued -as much as they could appear to be- dark eyes.

Harry’s cup, which Remus had safely pushed in the center of the table, out of reach, when Snape had installed his makeshift prep station, was floating, half a meter up, slowly but surely towards Harry. Remus briefly wondered if this was what happened the other night, too.

As he looked at the child again, his elation at the sight of magic was replaced by pure rage at the panic in Harry’s eyes. In wizarding families, signs of magic, especially in children as young as Harry, were celebrated. And Harry, as fascinated as he was by magic, was completely terrified of his own. The child’s burnt paper scent was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to repressed magic.

Remus would tear the child’s family with his bare hands if he ever got the chance. But anger and violence wouldn’t make a difference for Harry. So Remus did what he could do, here and now: he broke into the biggest grin he could muster when rage was coursing through his veins.

“Harry, look at that, you’re doing magic!”, he told Harry. Magic was great, magic was a reason to celebrate. 

Harry’s expression changed from terrified to uncertain, his eyes wide and going back and forth between the two adults. Snape was doing his best at a reassuring smile – granted, it needed some work, but it hadn’t deterred the child yet-  and Remus could have hugged him in thanks. Harry, very tentatively, reached to grab the cup midair. Remus clapped, and he could have sworn he heard the snake hiss in congratulations.

The tension in the room went down a notch, and Remus made a show of summoning his own cup wandlessly. Harry bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Snape went back to his ingredients, and, amazingly, instead of picking up his knife, summoned it to his hand. It was Remus’ turn to bite his lip. Snape really was trying his best. Reading the man was like riding a broom apparently: it came back to him naturally.

They all returned to their activities. Remus picked up the books again, his notes in a different journal for Snape’s sake. Harry dutifully watched the potion master again, his snake around his shoulders, all trace of upset erased. And Snape went back to pretending he was not teaching Harry the art of potion. All in all, it was a good day.

Notes:

They are trying their best. Remus does blood BDSM and Severus smiles at a child. Great efforts, guys.
I went a bit crazy on the wards magic, huh. BUT it is totally something that Remus would do, with his misplaced guilt and self-sacrificial tendencies.
See you in 3 days for more family bonding time with a dash of angst :D

Chapter 10

Notes:

I'm changing things around! From now on, multiple POV's in a chapter are a thing. Enjoy!

Remus and Harry were sitting on the sofa, looking through one of the photo albums they brought from Gringotts. Snape was sitting in the armchair opposite them and going through the Potter grimoire again, hoping to find something they had missed. It had been three days, and they had not found anything remotely relevant yet.

“That’s your dad and me in third year,” Remus said, taking in their young faces and happy smiles. The picture had been taken at some point during the week after a very rough full moon, and his face was covered in fresh scars. Remus remembered he did not want his photo taken because of them, but James had told him he looked really cool so he had relented. James was looking back and forth between Remus and Peter, who was behind the camera, with resolve in his eyes. Remus wondered if James had already been thinking about the animagi transformation at that point.

Harry was looking at the photograph with intent and pointed at the text below it. Remus had been surprised to see that Harry could already read pretty well, despite being only five. He knew nothing about muggle education, but it seemed a bit young to him. He still read it out loud, knowing it was also Harry’s way of communicating with him. Harry would show him some text, and Remus would read and work out the question the child had. 

“Prongs and Moony, 1973,” he read. “These were our nicknames,” he explained, “Your dad was Prongs. I was Moony. Peter was Wormtail.” Sirius was Padfoot, he added mentally. He had gone through the album earlier and knew he would have to talk about the man at some point – Sirius, as James’ best friend and brother, was in a lot of the pictures -, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it in the same breath as the two men he had killed.

Remus lifted his head as Snape hummed. The man and the child seemed to be communicating and Remus patiently waited for them to be done. He had made his peace with being a werewolf, but the condition stripping him of hearing Harry’s inner voice was maybe one of the crueler side effects.

“Should I ask him?”, said Snape, and Remus perked up, happy that Harry had a question. It was so rare for the child to ask anything. Harry nodded and buried his face against Remus’ arm, shy for some reason.

Snape’s eyes met Remus’, and extraordinarily, Remus felt the smell of occlumency recede.

“The child would like to call you Moony. Is that alright?” asked Snape, something that Remus would have called openness on his face, in another life.

Something complicated and painful happened to Remus’ heart. He had been Uncle Moony – or rather, Uncle Moo-y, once.

Remus buried his nose in Harry’s hair and whispered, “Of course you can call me Moony, love.” Harry squeezed his hand, which Remus had learned meant Thank you.

You don’t have to thank me, Remus thought. Please don’t thank me.

He kissed Harry’s forehead – which he had quickly realized Harry loved, so he did it again and again - and flipped to the next page. He was met with his younger self again, this time with Lily, studying in the Gryffindor common room. James must have been the one taking the picture, because Lily was scowling, probably annoyed that James was trying to get her to look at the camera. Remus was shaking his head, his eyes going from Lily to the photographer. James’ crush had been obvious since their first year. Remus told as much to Harry, who was looking at the picture like it held the secrets of the universe.

Remus kept to himself that at that point, Lily had been Snape’s girlfriend, and that it had led to downright vile bullying by James and Sirius. Harry knew barely anything about his parents. It was a discussion they would have to have at some point, but for now, it was better for Harry to ignore his parents’ complicated history.

Remus looked up and met Snape’s eyes. The man looked conflicted, and Remus’ heart hurt. Snape was obviously in none of the pictures, being James’ enemy. But at that point, Snape and Remus had been best friends, still, and Snape and Lily had been together. And yet, there was no trace of any of this.

There was no trace of the complicated feelings between Remus and Snape either. At some point during that year, Remus had realized he might like boys and a certain Slytherin boy in particular. He had kept it to himself, trying to remind himself that despite the complexity of Lily and Snape’s relationship, he could never, ever hurt his friends like that. Until Snape, one night in the library, had come out in a whisper as bisexual and it had rocked Remus’ world so strongly he had fled to his dormitory.

They had fought about it the next day. Snape was convinced Remus had reacted so weirdly because he thought it was wrong to be bisexual. Remus had scoffed rather dramatically and told Snape that it couldn’t be that because himself was gay. The look on Snape’s face at that revelation had fed Remus’ daydreams for months, but nothing had ever come of it. Lily and Snape’s relationship had continued to deteriorate, Remus caught in the middle of it. And then Remus had not stepped in, Snape had said something unforgivable and there had been no more wondering about their relationship.

Remus’ heartbeat picked up at the memory, and Snape was looking at him with a frown. Maybe lycanthropy had its peaks after all. He doubted Snape would use legilimency on him if he could, but the added protection was welcome, when Remus kept having thoughts that would make the potion master uncomfortable at best and angry at worst. He shook it off.

Remus raised an eyebrow, hoping that his question was clear on his face. He would explain his friendship with Snape to Harry if the man wanted him to.

Snape shook his head and went back to the grimoire. Harry flipped to the next page, and Remus kept talking about James and Lily, pushing his memories of his Slytherin friend to the back of his mind.

 

***

 

The child and himself were going through one of his potion textbooks, one that deserved all the ink Severus had poured on it – but it still was a good starting point, so Severus had relented after Harry had asked him to read it. Harry was in Severus’ arms; the man had been astonished as the child had climbed over the sofa’s arm to sit on Severus’ knees, but he had not dared say anything – Harry was, against all odds, conformable with him and Severus was feeling rather disinclined to jeopardize this, for some reason. He did not want to think about it.

Severus thought about the last time he had read a book to someone. He thought about lying in the shade of a tree, his lover in his arms as they read from the same book. Harry tapped Severus on the shoulder as he turned, his little hands on the man’s shoulders, and Severus obediently met his eyes.

Who is R.A.B?, asked the child.

Severus froze. Did Harry manage to get through his shields?

His eyes went on the potion book in front of him and caught on the small R.A.B he had written on the page at some point, probably while daydreaming in class.

Someone I was close to, once, he answered. Lupin had made him promise to say the truth to Harry, so he would, even if it was painful.

What happened?

He died, doing something very brave, Severus answered. All he knew was in the letter he had gotten a few days after Regulus’ disappearance: an apology and a goodbye. Whether Regulus had died running away or standing against the Dark Lord - as Severus believed -, it didn’t matter. Regulus had done the bravest thing he could do, which was to refuse to do his duty as the heir of the noble and most ancient House of Black.

That was something that Severus had only understood years later. As a teenager, he couldn’t comprehend why Regulus wanted out of something himself wanted in so badly. Looking back, he wondered how Regulus could have loved him when Severus was making a mistake no one forced him to make, unlike Regulus, who could barely stand under the weight of his parents’ expectations.

Severus focused back on Harry. The child was lost in thought for a moment, his mind going through images of his parents, his aunt and uncle, and Severus himself at Privet Drive. Severus stayed silent, letting the child work through his feelings.

Do you miss him?, Harry asked.

Every day. That was an easy truth. He missed Regulus at every moment.

Harry hummed, seemingly thinking about it.

Do you miss my mum?, he then asked. Severus thought about it for a second, looking at his feelings with the cold light of occlumency. Regulus died as his lover. When Lily died, they had not been in contact for years. And yet, he had loved Lily, still. He had loved both fiercely and would love them both forever.

With the same intensity, yes. Not in the same way, he answered. Harry did not know about his love for Lily, but the child was perceptive. Lupin had told him Harry wondered if they had been friends.

I miss my mum. Harry’s eyes had never looked so green. Severus raised his shields higher without even thinking about it. He needed to stay calm and collected, and showing distress would not help the child or do himself any good. 

I know, Harry. It’s okay to miss her, he answered, channeling his inner Remus Lupin. Harry nodded and sat back on Severus’ knees.

Severus started reading again, adding comments here and there about the stupidity of the author because he had realized it made Harry laugh. His thoughts were definitely not on potion making, though.

He needed to leave. Actually, he had needed to leave as soon as he had made sure Harry was all set with Lupin, days ago. How did he find himself with the child in his arms, effectively introducing him to the world of potions?

He had stayed to make things easier for Lupin, that first night. And then they had to work on the grimoire, but they had no success on that front, and they were not making progress anymore. He was running out of reasons to stay. Lupin was able to communicate better with Harry, and while the legilimency situation he had going on with the child was getting smoother and smoother, it was not necessary anymore for him to stay. He also should start researching thought transference and couldn’t do it from Liora’s Cottage.

Severus was feeling worse every day. Harry did not know what kind of man he was, and it was unfair for the child to get attached to him before he knew the whole truth. He was thankful that neither Lupin nor Harry asked questions, but the guilt was eating him alive. How could Lupin allow him to be around Harry at all? But also, why would Severus be allowed to explain to Harry what he did? It would only cause pain to the child, and Severus did not deserve to confess his sins and feel better about them.

Severus kept reading.

 

***

Remus was going over his notes about magical education when Snape – Severus, he really needed to make an effort and start calling him by his first name, it was getting weird not to – let out a frustrated sigh and pushed the grimoire away.

“I don’t know what we are missing. This book somehow manages to not give any information on any of the subjects it mentions.”

“Maybe we are not looking in the right place.”

“Maybe.” Severus looked unconvinced but didn’t argue.

Remus knew better than to insist, so he didn’t.

Instead he got up to make them some tea, and when he sat down, Severus was flipping through Children and Trauma.

“Nothing much about muteness in here,” Severus said, evenly.

Remus hummed in agreement as he placed a cup of tea in front of Severus. “You have a theory,” he said, recognizing the pinch in between Severus’ eyebrows.

Severus stayed silent for a few seconds, probably organizing his ideas. “There’s no physical issue causing his muteness, and he showed signs that he might be able to speak but chooses not to.” He took a sip of his tea and inclined his head in thanks when it was to his liking, his hair catching the light in a lovely manner.

Remus thought about the few instances when Harry had been embarrassed by sounds he had made, like humming or keeping in his laughter. It seemed like Harry didn’t want any sound passing his lips.

“He shows no such hesitation when we communicate mentally, and he is straightforward, like a child would in a normal setting.” Severus paused and put his cup down to cross his arms. “He’s afraid of talking. He could have been reprimanded for speaking, enough that he refuses to do it anymore. His living conditions…” His voice trailed off, and predictably, the coppery scent of his occlumency magic grew more pungent.

Remus fought to keep his calm. He reminded himself that he would not be able to raise a child in Azkaban, though he was going through plans to make the disappearance of two muggles look like an accident.

“What can we do?” Remus asked, his throat burning.

“Exactly what you are already doing.” Severus smiled at him sadly, and Remus wondered how long it had been since he last saw that smile on Severus’ elegant features. He felt privileged – Severus was not one to display his emotions, and even less so for the sake of others. That thought comforted him immensely. 

Remus smiled back, and for a precious second, everything felt okay.

Notes:

Ah, bittersweet fluff, my favorite.

This is not a Marauder's era fic, but also it's not NOT a Marauder's era fic, so let me clear some things. I have read a ton of those, but not ATYD (yet. Waiting to be able to endure the angst. I don’t think I can take a wolfstar fic with Sirius in Azkaban) so there might be some things that are fanon that I don’t take into account. In my estimation, the mudblood incident happened in 1975 and the prank (Sirius almost killing Severus) was later, 1976 or 1977.

Anyway here is a timeline of the past relationships in my fic:

1971-1975 Severus&Remus (ends the day Severus calls Lily a mudblood)
1970-75 Severus/&Lily on&off (ends the day Severus calls Lily a mudblood)
1976-79 Severus/Regulus (ends when Regulus dies)
1974-1977 Remus/Sirius on and off (ends the day of the prank)

Endgame couple is Snupin, so do not worry about any mentions of Sirius! by the way, this fandom has amazing ship names like Starchaser/Sunseeker, there has to be other options for Snupin too. Why not MoonPrince? Too corny?

Okay, enough bla bla on my part, see you very soon :D

Chapter 11

“The child named his snake Ananta,” said Severus as Remus entered the kitchen after putting Harry to sleep.

“Ananta? Like the serpent demigod?” the wolf asked as he made a beeline for the tea.

Severus nodded, knowing the man’s eyes were on him, as they had been quite a few times during the past week. He had his suspicions for the reason Remus looked at him so often, and he didn’t like it. Because Remus looked at him like he was the key to balancing an arithmancy equation, and Severus knew it would not work.

He ignored the staring, once again, and said “He was featured in the grimoire – yes, the illustration - and Harry caught sight of it. He liked the many, many heads.”

Remus snorted. “Well, it’s a pretty great name for a snake, isn’t it?”

Severus had to agree. And Harry had taken his time, trying to choose a name that the snake liked, which Severus had decided he did not find endearing, not even a little bit.

“Harry seems to adapt well,” the wolf said as he put down two cups on the kitchen table. He sat down next to Severus, smiling.

The low light of the kitchen hit Remus’ yellow eyes and made them glow a darker amber than usual. It also highlighted a particularly lovely scar that went over the man’s nose and nipped at his right eyelid, and that Severus had not noticed in years.

Severus immediately pushed the affection he felt in the river, willing it to drown and never come back again; any form of nostalgia was unwelcome, but feeling wistful about a scar that may or may not have been there for fifteen years? Unacceptable. Remus was unfairly handsome and would always be, and Severus would ignore it as he inevitably had to.  

Severus stayed silent, waiting for Remus to continue, and resolutely looked at the man with an empty mind, not allowing himself to notice anything else.  

“I think you should stay. Not only because of the grimoire, though it is a priority, but for Harry,” said Remus. Severus waited for him to explain how and why, to give him his reasoning – because Remus Lupin would never just say something just because - but the werewolf simply looked at him, infuriating in his calmness.

Severus almost left on the spot.

He already had stayed too long, and he was starting to like the child – as hard as it was to admit it -, which was going to complicate things beyond measure. Harry deserved to know the truth, at some point. Maybe he was a bit young to learn about the war, but he would not be too young forever. And Severus knew that telling Harry it was his fault that his parents were dead would not allow Severus to play any role in his life.

On top of that, there was Remus. Severus could see the direction the foolish werewolf’s heart was drifting to and that was not even something he would care to think about. The wolf was definitely an expert at making bad decisions. How could one even be that stupid? Severus was appalled. Remus wanted another adult involved in Harry’s life and thought that Severus could fill that role, and that was ludicrous. It would only cause the child pain.

“I need to start brewing your potion,” he said, instead of all of that.

“Then do it here,” Remus quietly replied, his face so earnest it was almost unbearable to hold his gaze.

Severus felt pathetically weak. He had great reasons for not staying. He just had to state them to remind Remus that he should kick him out immediately. But no words went past his lips.

Because, despite his reasons, even though he was itching to run away… he wanted to stay.

“Severus.” Remus moved his right hand from his cup to Severus’ elbow.

Somehow, that’s what allowed Severus to talk and ruin it all. He couldn’t bear to hear the fondness in the wolf’s voice. His name past these lips- it was too much. He had lost it all once – his friend and his love and his chance at happiness -, when they were fifteen and stupid, and to hear that tone again after years of coldness and hate was simply too much. Particularly because that coldness would have been more justified than ever.

“I can’t be around Harry,” he said and removed his arm from where it was resting on the table, out of reach.

Remus seemed to not have realized the change of mood, and smiled, “What do you mean? He likes you already. And you can communicate with him in a way that I can’t.”

Severus stood up and started to pace in the kitchen, needing to use up some of his nervous energy before it went to his occlumency shields and killed him.

“Even you, with your bleeding heart and annoying habit of forgiving the worst examples of the human race, must see that I’m the last person that should be around him!” he exclaimed.

Remus snapped his mouth shut, clearly shocked at Severus’ outburst, and Severus hurt all over as he realized he had made a grave miscalculation.

Remus did not know.

He did not know.

Things were already complicated beyond measure, and not for the first time, Severus wished it was 1971, that he was back at Hogwarts and studying with Lily and Remus. He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

“Why would you say that?” demanded Remus, getting agitated. The energy in the room picked up, and Severus fought against the urge to raise his shields higher.  

“What I have done-,” started Severus.

Remus interrupted him, “You’re no more responsible for their deaths than I am.”

Severus stopped pacing.

This was way worse than he thought. He had been a fool, thinking Remus had no more fight in him, that he would just accept taking care of Harry on his own with no questions asked. Remus did not know.

The wolf would kill him, and Severus would let him. He would not even get his wand out.

Severus had hated Remus for so long. And yet, after only a few days spent with him, he was yearning to stay here, revive their friendship, and yes, even help him raise Harry. What was he doing? How could have he forgotten so quickly that he did not deserve any of it?

In the end, Severus was glad his feelings on the question did not matter.

He blinked. Remus was standing in front of him, looking frantic, his hands on Severus’ shoulders. Severus realized he could not hear anything. He had accidentally raised his shield so high he was numb all over, having forgotten to breathe, the sound of water rushing the only thing he could hear. He regretfully let the shields down and breathed in Remus’ perfume. Mint and bergamot, familiar, comforting and painful all at once.  

Severus absentmindedly noted the wolf’s hands felt warm, and that he would miss the warmth.

“Don’t do that again,” admonished Remus, probably sensing Severus was back. Severus shook the man off. Something flashed in Remus’ eyes at the rejection, but Severus did not want to dwell on it.

“Remus. The prophecy”, he managed. 

“What prophecy?” Remus was frantic.

“I thought Albus would have told you, you were their closest friend,” Severus whispered.

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Severus told him. He explained how he overheard a prophecy and ran to his master with it, unknowingly setting in motion the event that led to the end of the war with the death of the Potters. How, when it realized who he had put in danger, he begged Albus to save Lily, but not Harry or James. How he became a spy for the light and vowed his life away. How he failed. How he found the bodies and left Harry with his dead mother.

“You somehow believe that you betrayed the Potters, but I did. They are dead because of me. Even worse, James Potter and Harry would have died to save her if I had my way. Do you think I should stay for a child I didn’t care lived or died?” he said, feeling so nauseous he might throw up.

All the glass in the room exploded. Severus did not move to protect himself, letting the shards fly against his skin.

Remus looked enraged, his face flushed, and his eyes narrowed. His wand was in his hand, but it was pointed at the ground, not at Severus, only thanks to his extraordinary self-control, Severus had no doubts.

“Harry. Go back upstairs, I will join you in a few minutes,” Remus said, his voice not betraying his anger. Severus’s blood turned cold. He turned his face towards the door, and here was Harry, confusion etched on his features, his Lily-green eyes darting back and forth between the two adults.

This was exactly why Severus should have left immediately.

When the child’s eyes met his, Severus did not hesitate.

I’m so sorry, Harry.

Harry looked at him, but nothing came through their connection. Severus gulped back down more apologies.  

“Harry, go, please.” The child nodded, looking scared, and turned around. Severus and Remus listened to the footsteps, both of them looking in the direction the child had gone. Severus could barely hear over his heart racing. Once the stairs were done cracking, the wolf looked again at Severus and pointed his wand at his throat.

“You are going to leave, right now,” Remus said, still eerily calm. Severus nodded and ignored the pain in his wrists. He was almost disappointed that the man had decided to not kill him. Maybe dying at Remus’ hands would have been better. It would have felt like redemption, at least.

Remus took a deep breath, “You will come back tomorrow night, or I will fucking hunt you down, Severus Snape.”

“What?” Severus could not believe his ears.

“Tomorrow. Come back. We will talk.” Remus’ voice was glacial, and Severus knew the man was restraining himself as much as he could.

Severus ran and did not look back to see hate in Remus’ eyes.

 

***

 

The second Remus felt Severus leave the wards, he let go of his wand, letting it clatter on the ground. He barely registered the noise over the blood rushing in his ears.

Remus would have destroyed the entire cottage, not only the kitchen, if Harry had not been there. But Harry was waiting for him upstairs, probably scared, and Remus could not let the rage take over.

He still put up a strong silencing charm and yelled until he was out of breath, his hands pulling at his hair in the kitchen of the cottage where he thought he could rebuild his life. He put all of his grief, all of his pain, all of his anger in his scream, trying to get it out of his system, but it was never-ending. For the past five years until Severus’ visit, Remus had spent every waking moment drowning in grief and guilt, wondering why things had gone so badly, and at what point someone took the decisive step that destroyed all of their lives.

He had not seen Sirius’ betrayal coming, and in the past five years, he had not managed to understand what triggered it, but he had come to terms with it.

And now, he had to accept that Severus had done the same, right as he finally could imagine some sort of peace again, right after he had, once again, vowed his magic to protect someone that did not fucking deserve it.

He could have cried at his own stupidity. Of course, of course, he knew Severus had been on the side that had caused the death of his friends and orphaned the boy he was now taking care of. He was well on his way to forgive him for that. But how the fuck was he supposed to know that it was Severus himself that had caused their deaths, that had sent He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named after them?

And how had Severus dared believe Remus knew about this? The man thought too highly of him. Remus would have killed him in 1981 if he had known. He really, really would have.

Remus crouched down into a ball, crushed by Severus' revelations and his own reaction. 

Remus was not a murderer. He had broken up with Sirius on the spot, the day of The Prank, horrified that his boyfriend could have made him kill someone. Eventually, he had forgiven him, because Sirius had seemed guilt-ridden to the point of madness. Maybe James should not have stopped Severus. Maybe Remus should have killed both Sirius and Severus. Maybe James and Lily would have lived, then, if both traitors were dead.

Remus felt like throwing up. He could not let his rage take over. Even if it did, what good would it do? He could not kill Severus. The blood pact would kill him before he even tried. And he had someone to take care of, now.

He tried to calm himself down by going over the facts. The prophecy was a very important piece of information, though it was incomplete. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.”, he recited mentally.

So that was why Lily and James went into hiding. Remus had not known, because of his role as a spy; he had been kept in the dark by the Order, in case he was found out and tortured for information, but also because they did not trust him fully. And it was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Lily and James had chosen Sirius as the secret keeper because he was more trustworthy, because he was not a werewolf.

Remus realized his mind was going in circles again – as always when it came to the war - and refocused on Severus. He knew now why he had the feeling the man was keeping something from him when they were going over the Potter Grimoire. Severus was looking at what the power Harry had could be, the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, and he suspected that it had something to do with whatever magic Lily had used on the child.

Merlin, he wondered if Lily had died knowing that it was Severus who had sent a madman after her son. How could Severus live with that? How could he even look at Harry?

And stupidly, Remus had thought Severus hated him for not protecting Lily, for not doing enough, for being away spying in the wolfpacks instead of with his friends. Remus had made himself sick with guilt while Severus… Severus had lived.

It was fucking unfair.

But Remus was familiar with unfairness, and Harry was counting on him. He stood up, wiped at his eyes and left the kitchen, not bothering to clean it up. He wasn’t sure he was done with anger for the night.

Notes:

Remus: it’s just like old times!! Reading books together, being snarky, wondering why I think that Severus’ side profile is so lovely…. I missed th-
Severus: I fucked up
Remus: it really fucking is like old times!!

I'M SORRY. Trust me, hurting Remus... argh. But I can't see him take the news well, you know.
Anyway :D I've updated the chapter count because there will be an epilogue, and we are already more than halfway done so it's gonna be very very soon. I wanna thank you all once again, kudos and comments are all greatly appreciated.
See you soon!

Chapter 12

“Harry?” Remus asked as he stepped into his bedroom. Harry hid further under the covers, Ananta wrapped around his wrist. He was afraid that the man was mad at him for getting out of his room. He had felt Severus’ magic pick up and had wanted to see what was happening, so he had sat down on the sofa in the living room, listening to the conversation. When the windows of the kitchen had exploded, he had not been able to stop himself from coming closer to see if the men were okay.

And now Moony was mad at him. He wondered if the man would leave him alone if he pretended to be asleep.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand on Harry’s foot. Harry tensed and Remus immediately removed his hand.

“I’m so sorry, love, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

Harry, surprised, pushed the covers down and met the man’s eyes. Moony really looked sorry, and also very sad. He still smiled at Harry, who moved to sit down next to him and tentatively took the sleeve of the man’s jumper into his hand. Moony understood and pulled him loosely into his arms, letting the snake slide down to Harry’s lap. 

“Severus told me you named her Ananta, is that right? What a lovely name.”

The man wolf isss nice, she hissed, and Harry agreed. Moony was always nice. He felt stupid for being scared.

Remus stayed silent for a few seconds, simply holding Harry.

“Did you hear our conversation?” he asked and immediately added, “You’re not in trouble, Harry. I just want to know if you heard so I can explain properly.”

Harry nodded, still unsure.

“Alright. Remember how happy I was when you used magic the other day?”

Harry did. He had spent the afternoon making things fly to him and Moony had clapped every time, looking ecstatic.

Harry smiled at the man, who smiled back, “Magic is great, Harry, and I’m so proud of you for using it. But I’m also happy because I believe you hid your magic for a very long time and it’s not good for wixen to do that. It can make it difficult to regulate it, when you have strong emotions.”

Harry thought about the Dursleys. He had tried his best to not do magic, but it always happened anyway when he was upset. He nodded again.

“That’s what happened to me, in the kitchen. I got very, very angry.” Remus sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see this, love, it must have been scary. I promise not to do that again.” Remus rearranged Harry in his arms so that they could see each other. Ananta hissed in annoyance and slid further down the bed. “I will never hurt you, alright?” he asked, and Harry knew it already, so he just hugged the man again. He had not even been scared by the magic, just by the fact that he could have angered Moony.

“What do you think about us working together on magic tomorrow?” Harry could tell Remus was smiling. Harry nodded eagerly, happy he would get to learn more about magic.

“Good. That’s one thing sorted. Now, regarding Severus…” Harry regretfully let go of Moony, sensing this was serious. The man sounded devastated again. Harry felt weird. He wanted Severus to come and talk too.

But Harry had heard most of the conversation, and Severus seemed to be certain he did not want to stay with Harry and Remus, because.. because it was his fault his parents were dead. Remus had said it was Sirius’ fault, the man in the photo album, so Harry was not sure what to think anymore. He just knew it hurt a lot to think about Severus not wanting to be here.

“He did very bad things during the war. Worse than I thought. And if you don’t want to see him anymore, you won’t have to. I- I don’t think he’s the same man anymore, but it’s still difficult to hear what he did.” Remus looked like he struggled to find the words. He sighed deeply.

“I don’t want to tell you things that aren’t mine to tell, love. I will talk to him tomorrow, and then we can decide what we do, okay?” Remus smiled sadly at him.

Harry hummed in agreement. He wanted to talk to Severus, but he was very confused about the war, and the roles of the adults in it. It seemed so complicated. He just wanted things to be normal and for Remus and Severus to be happy, and it was clear that they weren’t, and Harry was sad about that. He hoped he did not make things difficult.

But most of all, Harry didn’t like it when Moony was sad. If Severus made Moony sad, Severus couldn’t stay. But Harry had the feeling that Moony would be sad if Severus left, too.

 

***

 

Remus did not know why he bothered to try and sleep. He had been lying in bed for hours, tossing and turning, his head a mess. 

Remus did feel better now that he knew Harry was okay, though. Scaring the kid definitely would have counted as “fucking it up”, which was at the top of his list of things not to do, right over “hex Snape”.

Harry was such a great kid, Remus wanted nothing more than to give him a stable and loving environment. He felt they had both been dealt shitty cards to start with and now Remus was trying to win a rigged game, with the rules changing every time he thought he understood what was happening.

Okay, maybe he was still feeling like shit, even with Harry being okay.

He wondered how long one could mourn his friends. He missed Lily, James and Peter fiercely. He even missed Sirius, or the person he thought Sirius had been. He missed the person Severus had been before the war. He missed his own self, slightly more innocent, slightly more optimistic.

But overall, he was tired of feeling sad and angry, he was tired of mourning, he was tired of trying to be resilient and he was tired of failing to move on. Maybe that was why Severus’ confession hurt that much. Remus’ tolerance to pain was shot, all his nerves were frayed. 

Did it matter that it was Severus’ actions that caused the Potter’s death? Remus was annoyed that he had already realized it did not make the man a murderer. Severus had not changed by saying it loud. The change was in Remus, who now knew that Severus had done worse than join the Death Eaters. Could he forgive that? Could he let Severus in Harry’s life?

Remus thought about how Severus was with Harry. Careful, yes, as if a wrong move would spook the child – or more likely, himself-, but he was trying. He was trying so bloody hard. Maybe even just as hard as Remus was.

And that was what gave Remus pause.

He hated to think that Severus would be good for Harry, but it was the truth. They needed the potion master in their corner, and not only because he was perfectly positioned to protect Harry at Hogwarts.

In the end, what mattered was how Severus would handle telling Harry, and how Harry would react. Remus’ own relation with Severus, his anger at the man and at himself, it was something he could deal with in the secret of his heart.

***

 

Remus cleared the living room’s table of the books that had accumulated in the past week, trying not to cringe when he realized they were all books that Severus had gotten him or that Severus was working on. He had the urge to set them on fire, but that would only feel good for a few seconds. He put them on a shelf instead, annoyed at himself for immediately thinking of the shelf as Severus’.

Harry was looking curiously as he summoned a piece of parchment paper and a bottle of ink. He poured the ink on the papers and sat down on the carpet, Harry settling in his lap. He put his hands on each side of the parchment paper in front of him, Harry copying him, his snake around his wrist.

“Do you like to draw, Harry? Well, it’s a little bit like that. We are going to use magic to move the ink on the parchment.” He demonstrated, making the ink take the form of Harry’s snake. Ananta hissed in what Remus hoped was approval.

Harry had smiled at Remus’ magic but now that it was his turn, he was looking queasy. Remus put his hands on top of the boy’s, and gently pushed his magic through the kid, a silent reassurance his mom had often done when himself was a child.

“Let’s do it together. Think about an animal.”

Harry nodded, still uncertain, but the ink started morphing into a four-legged creature as the burnt paper smell grew stronger. Remus had to hold in a laugh when he realized what it was.

“That’s great, love! Magic is all about intent. Keep going.” Harry was pouring his magic with no restraint now, and Remus hid his smile against the child’s hair.

Harry took his hands off the parchment, and turned his face towards Remus, smiling and pointing at the shape he had made.

Remus raised an eyebrow, fighting the grin that menaced to take over his face, “Is it me?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, pointing at the tail of the wolf. The child put his hand on the parchment again and some of the ink detached itself from the wolf to make a moon. Remus laughed at the child’s cheek.

“You’re so talented, Harry! Good job.” Harry tapped on the table in excitation and Remus put his hands back on Harry’s. They worked on animals and creatures and different objects for a little while, and Remus was pleased that Harry’s burnt magical scent seemed to go down. Did Harry’s magic smell like caramel? Merlin, that child was cute. Remus felt ridiculously proud.

Harry started to yawn, probably exhausted by the long use of magic. Remus put a spell on the parchment so that it would not dry.

“Love, what do you think about using this to communicate with me?” Remus asked, feigning nonchalance.

Remus had wanted to breach the subjects for days, but it had been clear since the beginning that Harry was set on not talking, so he hadn’t. But with Severus gone, he needed Harry to have a way to tell him if something was wrong, and he could not put it off any longer. Remus held his breath as Harry fidgeted in his lap. After a few seconds, the child gave him a terse nod.

“Thank you,” he said, and kissed Harry’s hair. Small steps, he thought.

Harry put his hands on the parchment again, and Remus leaned slightly, curious. Harry immediately took his hands off and pushed against Remus’ face, and Remus laughed, “Alright, alright, I’m not looking”. He obediently closed his eyes. Harry huffed and Remus felt him move, probably putting his hands back on the table. After a few seconds, Remus felt a light tap against his arm and opened his eyes.

Harry had drawn two figures, one small and one big, hugging.

Wordlessly, Remus tightened his arm around Harry. “You just have to ask, alright?”

They stayed like this for a little while, and when Harry moved, Remus let him go. The child went and played with his snake in the garden while Remus read and watched him from the kitchen. He was engrossed in his book, taking notes about thought transference – not that he was finding anything even remotely useful -, when he heard a loud hiss. Surprised, he stood up. He didn’t know Harry’s small snake could make that much noise – it had almost been a shout.

“Harry, are you okay?,” he asked as he hurried outside.

Harry was sitting on the ground, his hands over his mouth and a huge gash on his right knee, profusely bleeding. The snake was circling him and frantically hissing but definitely nowhere near the sound level of the previous hiss.

“Oh, love, did you fall?,” Remus said as he approached. Harry threw his hands in front of him, his face a picture of fear. He was wildly shaking his head and biting his lips bloody. Remus stopped dead in his tracks. The air was shimmering with magical energy, and the burnt toast smell of the child peaked dramatically.

“Harry, you’re okay,” he said, trying to look as calm as he could. He was internally freaking out at the amount of magical power in the air, a bit hysterical at the craziness of seeing a child produce it. He knew Harry had a strong magical core, but this was something else.

The only other example he could think of was Severus, losing control in third year after some nasty bullying. He had poured his anger into the Great Lake, which had created shock waves and leveled the waterfront by a meter. And then it had never happened again, because Severus had learned occlumency and got his extraordinary magic under control.

Remus gulped. Severus’ expertise would have come in handy, just now. Remus had seen him deal with it, but the truth was, it was his own fault that Severus had lost control, when Remus had made bullshit excuses for not intervening, and Severus had lost it and called him a coward. Remus had simply stood there and watched Severus lose control. The only thing he had done was to take him to the infirmary when Severus had passed out. He had spent the following week there and Remus had spent his days at his friend’s bedside, guilt eating him alive. Severus had not said another word about the bullying, and Remus had not dared bring up the topic. That had been their first big rift, and Remus regretted it to this day.

Tears were streaming down Harry’s face, and Remus could not take it. Remus walked into the sphere of energy, gritting his teeth at the burn he felt on his skin. Harry started panicking and put his hands on the ground, singeing the grass. Remus prayed the child was not getting burned. Harry’s eyes were imploring, and Remus wished once again mind magic was not unfeasible for him. So instead, he talked, hoping to Merlin that it would be enough. 

“It’s alright, love, let me help you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as to not scare Harry, but also because the magic felt like tiny needles all over his skin and talking hurt, “I’m going to put my hands on yours, okay? Just like we did earlier.” He ignored Harry’s strangled noise, knowing that acknowledging it would send the child into an even bigger panic attack. Remus put his hands on Harry’s and willed the magic to calm down, locking eyes with Harry and smiling at him, even though it felt like his skin was burning. He was used to pain, this was nothing.

“Deep breaths, Harry. In and out, yeah, that’s right, you’re doing a great job, pup.”

The magic was receding slowly. It took a couple of very long minutes for Harry to completely get it under control, but he eventually managed, looking at his hands with fear in his eyes. This wouldn’t do.

Remus made sure Harry didn’t realize the palms of his hands had nasty burns on them by pulling his sleeves over them. He would discreetly heal them later. He took Harry in his arms, hiding a wince at the pressure on his fingertips, and carried him inside. As he sat him down on the sofa, crouching in front of him to look at his knee, Harry started fighting against big sobs again.

“I’m going to heal you, alright?, ” he asked as he got his wand out. Apart from the cut on Harry’s knee and his bloodied lips – and the breakdown -, the child was completely fine. The wards had worked: the magic had not harmed Harry, it was only a fall. Remus was relieved; Harry’s magic could go haywire, and it would be fine.

The gnash did not look too deep. Severus was better at this than him, but it would be sufficient. He healed Harry quickly and then sat down next to him, his right hand rubbing small circles on the child’s back as Harry cried. Ananta had followed them and was climbing alongside Remus’ leg to reach the child. She hissed and Harry seemed to calm down and listen to the noises she made.

Harry sniffed and curled up against Remus’ side.  

“Everything’s alright, love,” Remus smiled, happy that he was a source of comfort, “I’m very proud of you for getting it under control.”

Harry shrugged, clearly unconvinced.

“I mean it, pup. You’re doing great. I did the same thing yesterday, right? It’s okay to have big emotions.”

Harry shrugged again and closed his eyes, and Remus let it go for now. He held the child closer and listened to Ananta’s soft hisses as Harry fell asleep against him.

 

***                    

  

Harry could not believe he had spoken. Out loud. Ananta kept telling him it was fine and that the man-wolf was unconcerned by any noises Harry made, he was too mortified to listen to her. He had yelled. He could not remember the last time he had made a noise louder than a whisper and it took a ridiculously small cut to make him cry out. Remus had not said anything, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time before the man would ask him about it and for some reason it made him want to hide.  

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Moony. There had been quite a few times he almost did, partly because he wanted to ask him questions and partly because he knew it would make Moony happy. He cried a little in his pillow, wondering why he wanted to talk to Remus so badly and why he knew he would not be able to.

Talking… it always ended badly, whatever the words were. At school, he had focused all his energy on learning how to write and read, even during playtime, to be able to communicate with his teachers – they were always frustrated with him so it was a necessity, to placate them and avoid issues with the Dursleys.

It was much better that way, and now that Remus had found a way to communicate without having to open his mouth, it would be much easier. Harry wondered if Remus did not realize he could write. But he also had not seen a pen or a pencil in the cottage, and he had no idea how to use a quill. Maybe he should ask him to teach him. Maybe that way he would not have to speak, ever.

Though there had been a person with whom he could speak, and nothing bad ever happened. Harry closed his eyes tighter and tried to not miss Severus.

Chapter 13

Remus felt Severus breach the wards when he was trying to read after Harry had gone to bed. To his annoyance, he felt intense relief that the man had come back, out of all the emotions he could have had. Remus tried to tell himself he simply was relieved he had another chance to kick the other man's ass. He was not so good at lying to himself anymore, sadly. Maybe working on one’s avoidance proneness had its downsides.

He closed his book and put it aside, not bothering to get up from the kitchen’s chair. Severus had slept on the sofa for a week straight, he could enter the house without bloody knocking.

Severus knocked. Remus got up and stomped to the door.

“Why the fuck would you knock?” he spat as he opened the door with maybe more force than necessary. The hinges loudly protested.

Remus had to do a double take at Severus' appearance. The man looked like shit: he had a split lip and what looked like the start of a nasty black eye, his hair was all tangled and he looked ready to bolt.

Remus held onto his anger for dear life. Damn Severus Snape, damn his inability to not worry about Severus Snape.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation”, Remus said as he dragged Severus to the living room, firing diagnostic spells at him after he sat him down on the sofa. The blood, the bruises, they were absurd. Severus had gotten hurt and the wards had not worked. Any magical attack should have been diluted to Remus. Unless…

“Are those from a fucking fist fight?!” he exclaimed, his anger back with full force. “What the actual fuck?”

Severus cringed, an unnatural show of emotion for the man that would have made Remus happy if it had happened a few days ago. Severus opened his mouth and closed it again.

“Oh, hell no. Speak.” Remus had already held two sides of a conversation for the whole day with Harry, and while it did not bother him to accommodate Harry’s needs, his patience was running thin and Severus was definitely not as cute, especially when he looked like he had been dragged through a wired fence. The bastard pulled it off, somehow, but still.

Remus put his wand away, useless for the light injuries Severus had sustained. He could use his own bloody potions. Severus looked at the wand disappearing and gulped. Remus resisted the urge to get it back out and wave it under Severus’ stupid nose.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Severus.

Remus stayed silent.

Severus was barely breathing.

Remus’ eyes narrowed to slits. “Nothing to add? Very well. Listen to me attentively. You are going to explain everything to Harry, in an age-appropriate manner, and you are going to do what it takes to deserve his forgiveness.” It would not take much. Remus knew Harry missed Severus.

Severus’ eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. “I will,” he answered, his voice thick, “But, Remus… I’m so sorry.” Remus tensed. He had the feeling Severus was not only apologizing for his role in James and Lily’s deaths.

Remus turned his head, away from Severus’ honest eyes. Wasn’t that a rare sight. “I – I can’t do this right now, Snape. Don’t make me do this right now.”

Severus inclined his head, a silent apology.

“How did you get hurt?” Remus asked, desperate for another topic.

Severus looked embarrassed. “I might have… used a spell that can block one’s magic for a certain amount of time to get into the Department of Mysteries?”

“Sorry what?” Remus had misheard, obviously. 

“The wards at the Ministry only catch magical signatures; hence, a muggle or a squib could enter undetected. Or, in my case, a wizard with a hidden magical core.”

Remus did not move, waiting for Severus’ explanation to make sense. Severus had broken into the fucking Ministry of Magic. By hiding his magic. Because he had broken into the Ministry. He didn’t even know where to start unpacking that piece of information. Holy shit.  

“I needed to hear the rest of the prophecy. It’s the last thing I can do, so that you can protect Harry –“

“We.” Remus was still reeling but he still managed to catch Severus’ reluctance to imply himself. This was going to be an uphill battle.

“So that we can protect Harry,” Severus amended. “I thought you were aware of it, in its entirety. If… You needed to know, whatever the future holds.” Which Remus understood was Severus’ way of saying whether you let me stay or not. "I destroyed it. I figured the least amount of people involved, the better." Severus bit his lips, his eyes on the floor.

“What is the rest of the prophecy, then?” Remus was used to recovering pretty quickly during important conversations – you did not befriend James Potter and expect to have normal discussions – but he was still reeling from the fact that Severus had simply gone and infiltrated the Hall of Prophecies, just because he had realized Albus had not told Remus the truth.

“And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives,” quoted Severus, apologetic.

“But he is dead.” Remus really, really did not like how the prophecy sounded.

Severus took a big breath, “I don’t think he is.” He rolled up his sleeve, and right under some nasty scaring - that Remus forced himself to ignore -, was the tattoo that had despaired Remus as teenagers. It was so faint it was barely visible, but there was no mistaking the lines for something else. “This would have disappeared. And the prophecy has not been fulfilled; else this would have disappeared.”

Remus thought he would freak the fuck out about this later. Mostly about the part where the child he was taking care of had to either kill someone or be killed by someone. Merlin’s ballsack, he hated prophecies.

“I don’t see how this,” Remus gestured at Severus’ bloody face, “happened, though.” If Severus had gotten caught, which did not seem to be the case, a wizard would have hexed him, not hit him.

“I couldn’t occlude for the duration of the spell.”

Remis was not following, and it must have shown on his face.

“I got drunk. Had some choice words with someone who made fun of my robes. Got into a fight,” Severus deadpanned.

Remus blinked, effectively forgetting about the Harry-might-have-to-kill-a-not-dead-dark-lord-to-survive and Severus-caused-my-friends-deaths parts for a few glorious seconds.

“Woah. I can’t believe I ever thought you were the brightest wizard in our year,” he said, trying to imagine Severus drunk enough to start a fight over a remark, and failing, “But wait a second. A spell that block your magic? Willingly? Why would you even know such a spell? And who the fuck would create that?”

Severus coughed. “I would. I used it on my mother a lot, at the end of her life.”

“But it would…” Remus could not keep the horror out of his voice. It would be extremely painful for a wizard, being deprived of magic – it would kill them, after a while.

“It did. But it was that or my father’s fists. She was… mentally unwell, and her magic was out of control. In the end, it didn’t matter, did it? He killed her anyway,” Severus said factually, carelessly, as if he was talking about the weather. Remus knew better than to assume he did not care, though.

Remus did not know what to say. He had heard that Severus’ mother had died, but they had not been on speaking terms at the time, and he had not said anything. A few months later, Severus had joined the Death Eaters, and he had thought that it was the end of them, for good. 

Severus stood up from the sofa with a grunt, seemingly done with this conversation. “Why aren’t you cursing me?,” he asked, softly. Remus slightly looked up to meet his gaze. 

“Oh, trust me, I want to. I’m still mad. I’m going to be mad for a while. But I’m sick of feeling like shit. I’ve been dealing with this for five fucking years, and I’m over it. You are in this as much as I am, so I’m not going to curse you because I need you alive to take your responsibilities.”

“You really thought I knew about the prophecy and that I had forgiven you?,” Remus continued. The sheer fucking audacity. That was way too easy, and Severus had obviously been cautious not to mention it. Remus could not stop the words pouring out of his mouth. His voice had gotten louder and louder, and he could not for the life of him get it to be softer. Severus was frozen in place, his eyes fixated on Remus.

“And I thought I could have killed you, I really could have. I compared you to Sirius, for fuck’s sake, and I’m mad at myself for it.” Embarrassingly, Remus realized his hands were shaking, so he crossed his arms. He took a deep breath but it did nothing to calm him.

“It should be Lily, dealing with this. She would curse you and she would forgive you and you’d move on !,” Remus yelled. Severus paled at her name, and Remus wondered once again how the man had managed to keep going after her death. Merlin knew Remus had barely survived.

He continued in a whisper, “But instead, it’s just you and me. Harry deserves fucking better than us, you know that? So get it together, Severus. We are already so much less than what he should have.” Remus gulped down the mess of feelings that had come to the surface. He felt inadequate to care for Harry, raw because of his grief, stupid for caring and protecting Severus after everything.

“Alright, alright,” whispered Severus in a placating manner, his hands hovering over Remus’ shoulders but not touching him. His eyes searched Remus’, probably trying to see if he would curse him after all. Remus did not know if he wanted to strangle or hug the man, so he nodded, communicating that he had calmed down. Mostly.

Severus waited a few seconds before talking, “There’s something else,” and Remus was overcome with dread once more. He reached into his robes and pulled out what Remus recognized as the Daily Prophet. “Yesterday’s edition,” he clarified, looking sorry. That was one too many emotions on the man’s face for the day, and Remus briefly wondered if the magic block spell had long-term effects. Severus seemed to be barely occluding. Only now did he realize that the metallic scent was barely there.

Remus took the paper into his hand and unfolded it, his heart in his throat as he recognized the man on the front page – despite his sunken eyes and matted hair - before his eyes mechanically found the title. “Escape from Azkaban!”, it read.

His hands tightened unwillingly, and he almost ripped the newspaper. He fought the urge to go and make sure Harry was still upstairs, safe and sound. Immediately, his mind went to the wards. He had spelled them against anyone who did not have a blood pact with him, and he had thought he was so clever for that. He had hoped Sirius would suffer in Azkaban, but that, that he had not anticipated.

Remus swore and ran outside, not bothering to answer Severus’ gasp of surprise at his reaction. The man took off after him, but Remus had no time to explain. He used his wand to open a large cut on his arm, from his elbow to his wrist, as he frantically tried to spell his new wards in a way that would still use the magic of the blood pacts and not allow Sirius to enter them. It had to be sufficiently specific for the magic to be as strong as it could.

He needed something of Sirius. He tried to think about what he owned that had once been Sirius’. He had gotten rid of most things after the war, of course. But there was something that he could not have thrown away because it was not in his possession at the time.

Remus summoned the photo album from the living room and flipped through it until he found what he was looking for. The picture that had taken his breath away when he had looked through the album with Harry.

Sirius at fifteen, on his broom, his hair wild in the wind, grinning as he waved at the camera. Happy, carefree, looking at the photographer, James, as if he was the reason the sun rose every morning. Once again, Remus wondered. How could he?

He ignored the pain and focused on his magic as he drew runes with his blood in the grass, not caring that his arm was profusely bleeding. It needed to be perfect. Severus and Harry were inside the wards, so there was no fucking up allowed. He would create wards so perfect there would be no possibility for Sirius to ever break them.

Remus would put his life at stake before he allowed Sirius to cause Harry pain again. He poured so much blood that he was feeling light-headed.  As he completed the wards, he started to feel cold all over. His legs gave out under him. He slipped into darkness, but not before he felt strong arms caught him, andt the smell of rosemary and citrus washed over him. 

Notes:

When I started writing this fic, I thought it would be something light and fluffy with minimal plot, only focusing on the relationships. Well. This fic has a mind of its own and I've updated the tags accordingly. I might make this a serie? I'm probably going to post some one-shots of Harry getting the love he deserves after I'm done posting this anyway, but I've been thinking about Hogwarts and Horcruses hunting and adults actually being useful... So yeah.
See you next update for some FLUFF and my favorite moment between all three of them, I'm excited!

Chapter 14

Severus sighed as he let himself heavily slip down to the ground in the living room, his back pressed against the sofa where Remus was passed out. Was it necessary for Remus to almost cut his arm off to get some blood? He had stitched the wolf’s arm but Remus was still worryingly pale, the blanket that Severus had started to think as its own mostly hiding him and making him look almost small. Severus would force a blood replenisher down his throat as soon as he woke up.

Severus let his head fall back against the seat, just barely touching Remus, and breathed in deeply the scent of Liora’s cottage. He felt like he had aged ten years in the past day. He could not understand that he was allowed back here, in Remus’ home, after yesterday’s conversation. He had come back today fully prepared for Remus to hex him and tell him to disappear.

Remus was a fool for giving him another chance. Severus thought about the look on the wolf’s face when he saw the Prophet. Remus forgave too easily, and while Severus easily hated Black with all his soul, Remus had looked tortured.

He hated that he was similar to Sirius Black when it came to requiring the wolf’s forgiveness.

He turned his head slightly to look at Remus, glad that he could stare to his heart’s content without risking being caught. Remus looked at him too often to allow Severus to watch him secretly. Severus followed the silver scars up the man’s neck to his face, his eyes following a path they had taken countless times before, stilling on his lips for a second before continuing onto his nose and the scar there, Severus’ favorite, the one that nipped at the man’s right eye.

The fact that he had a favorite scar was an issue. He felt like a voyeur and looked away, uncomfortable. This was going to end very badly for him.

Severus tried to occlude again, but it felt like the river was working against him. His shields were not cooperating since his stunt at the Ministry, and he knew he would not sleep that night. Still, it had been worth it, to finally know the entirety of the Prophecy that had ruined it all.

As he was about to get up to make some tea – which Remus would probably be delighted about when he woke up – he heard footsteps on the upper floor. The stairs cracked as Harry made his way down.

Severus’ gaze met Lily-green eyes, but he didn’t see Lily anymore. He saw a child who took days to choose the perfect name for his snake, who drank every word about magic, who was curious about potions and who liked to get up at night to see what the adults were up to. A child who liked strawberries better than raspberries, who bit his lips when he smiled, who looked at Remus like he was the reason the sun shined. Severus marveled for a second at how quickly Lily’s child became simply Harry.

The child hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. Severus waited, not daring to move or talk. After a few seconds, Harry walked slowly to the sofa and looked at Remus.

He’s okay, just sleeping, said Severus as soon as Harry met his eyes. The child still looked worried.

I’m okay too, Severus added.

Bruise paste?, asked Harry, his eyes roaming over Severus’ face.

I will put some on later.

Harry closed the space between them to climb onto Severus’ lap, facing him, but there was no conscious communication from him, simply a lot of confusion and hurt. Severus felt desperate to explain himself.

Will you let me tell you how I knew your mother?, he asked. Harry nodded, his face too grave for his age.

For once, Severus did not put his thoughts outside of his shields. They were too fragile anyway, now. He dropped them altogether, letting the river dry out completely, the familiar and comforting cold leaving him. He felt unbalanced, naked, but he pushed through.

Severus let Harry in, showing him instead of telling him.

He showed Harry how he had met Lily, focusing on the absolute joy he had felt to have someone, finally. He quickly thought about his parents, letting Harry know Severus’ father had not been a kind man, but he didn’t linger. He made sure to include plenty of memories of Lily laughing, her green eyes sparkling. He showed her first steps with magic, and their shared happiness at going to Hogwarts together.

He showed how things had changed at Hogwarts, with them being in different houses, but that they had stayed friends. He showed Remus joining them, and how happy the three of them had been. He focused on the surge of pure bliss he had felt on a random Monday, walking with his two best friends to class and being moved to tears because he had been so grateful. 

He showed how deep his love for Lily and Remus ran, pouring all the feelings he had had for them into his memories, infusing every one of them with the warmth he had felt. How kind Lily always had been, protecting him and loving him despite his flaws. He did not think about James Potter, or Sirius Black, convinced it wasn’t his place to tell Harry, and that if it was, it was not the time.

But he still showed how difficult school had been for him, after a while, when he had realized he did not belong in his house or with his Gryffindor friends. How they had drifted apart, slowly and then all at once when he had said something so horrible there had been no going back. How alone he had felt, how he had missed Lily and Remus like a limb. How he had gradually started to try and fit in with the blood purists, convincing himself he belonged and that it was his right to say such terrible words, and that he was better.

He skipped over the nastier parts, not wanting to scare Harry, but he showed him how badly he had wanted to belong to something that nothing else mattered, until the moment everything had gone irremediably wrong.

Severus gritted his teeth as he thought about the prophecy, and how he had been the one relaying it. How he had regretted it more than anything else in his life, and how he had begged for Lily’s life, to no avail. How he had sworn his life away in a desperate attempt to save her.

How he had promised to protect Harry because of Lily, but how, after knowing Harry, his duty had turned to devotion. How sorry he was, and how determined he was to be there for him, always.

How he understood if Harry did not want to see him anymore, but how much he wanted to stay and make it right.

Severus was breathless with the intensity of the memories, not used to feel so much anymore. He held Harry’s gaze, letting the child come to terms with what he had shown him. Harry closed his eyes and put his face against Severus’ cheek, his arms going around his neck, holding tight. Severus hugged him back, his hands shaking as profound relief washed over him.

He caught some movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head to meet very amber eyes. Remus was looking at them, awake and softly smiling.

Wordlessly and still holding Harry, Severus reached into his pocket and pushed a vial into Remus’ hand, who gulped it down without hesitation. The movement caught Harry’s attention, but instead of disentangling himself from Severus’ arms as the man expected, he simply grabbed Remus’ hand in his. Remus readjusted himself on his side, his leg now pressing against Severus’ head. The wolf hummed unhappily when Severus tried to move, so he cautiously ended up putting his head back against Remus.

Severus was waiting for Harry to fall asleep to take him to his bedroom, but it felt so nice in the living room he did not want to move. Remus’ warmth, Harry’s slow breathing, the magic of the wards pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat, it was all so comforting. Severus knew he could not sleep in that position, but he did not care. He held Harry until the morning, listening to Remus’ soft snores and wondering why he deserved to feel such contentment again.

 

***

 

It was clear that Remus was still furious, but the man hid it well the following days and weeks. He occasionally sneaked out to smoke, which Severus had not seen at Liora’s Cottage yet. He knew the wolf smoked, a bad habit that had started at some point in sixth year, because he had been watching him a lot at the time, hoping to meet the amber eyes – and failing every time. Other than the smoking being back, it felt like things were back to normal. And how weird it was, to think about living at Remus’ and taking care of Harry as normal.

Severus had roused that first morning laying on the ground alongside the sofa, with Harry draped over him and Remus’ warm hand against his cheek. He had barely closed his eyes all night, but still he felt better than he had in years.

He and Harry had quietly gone up to the bathroom to wash their faces while Remus had prepared some breakfast, and things had resumed as if Severus had never left. Except for Remus chain-smoking, but Severus knew better than to say something.

Severus started his preparation of wolfsbane, assisted by Harry and his snake. Remus worked on magic with Harry, teaching him simple color-changing spells at first, and then some more complex magic. Severus knew Remus was subtly testing how much wandless magic Harry could do, trying to see if it lacked precision or strength. As of now, it lacked neither; Severus had a feeling the child would be able to do quite a lot without a wand, which was useful. Harry had talent, and letting his magic flow naturally, without the use of an adult’s borrowed wand, was second nature to him. Probably because he had never used one, thought Severus. Unlike most wixen children, who borrowed their parents’ on the first occasion.

Harry’s magic was thus under control when he was calm, certainly above average in both strength and precision for a child, but not cause for concern. But when Harry was upset… Remus had told him about the child’s breakdown - and Merlin, had it brought bad memories back – and there had been a few instances it had come close to that again. And this was definitely uncommon in children, though with Harry’s history of abuse, it was hard to tell if that was a result of it or another issue.

For now, there had been no incident, but it was getting urgent to find a solution, mostly because those episodes made Harry cry and neither Severus nor Remus could take the child being sad and scared. So Remus researched and tested and Severus started thinking about teaching the child occlumency. Magical education could probably also help, so both Severus and Remus started teaching Harry in earnest.

Harry usually took a nap during the afternoon, exhausted by the magic, his snake dutifully settling on the pillow next to the child’s head. It was sweet, how they had bonded, and Severus wondered if Harry’s affinity for his snake would lead him to Slytherin.

He was not sure it would be a good thing; Severus had conflicted feelings towards his house. In a sense, it was his home, and he was proud to be a Slytherin; but it was a place he had had to fight to belong too. Harry was so sweet. Severus wanted him to be innocent forever. He was projecting way too far into the future, wasn’t he? This should not even be a source of worry for years.

An afternoon after he had put Harry down for his nap, Severus returned to the kitchen to find Remus sitting at the table, the grimoire in front of him. He looked grave and Severus had to remind himself to breathe as he sat down.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” said Remus. Severus tensed even further. “As you said, the grimoire manages to give no useful information about anything it mentions. What if,” Remus tried, looking like he had to force the words out, “the grimoire requires blood to reveal its real content?”

Severus immediately understood what Remus hinted at. A family heirloom, dark as this one, would not require just any blood.

“No,” he said, horrified at what it entailed.

Remus grimaced. “Trust me, I don’t want to even think about it. But what if it’s the only way to protect him?”

Severus stayed quiet, hating that he was entertaining the thought of taking Harry’s blood.

“I already took some precautions. But… If he is alive… Can we pass on a chance to save Harry’s life like Lily did?” continued Remus, frowning at the Grimoire.

Severus knew they couldn’t. But taking a child’s blood, involving Harry in such dark magic so early in his life, it would have a cost he was certain he did not want the child to carry. It would taint him beyond measure. Which Severus refused to do; Harry’s soul was not something he was ready to gamble with. There had to be an alternative.

“You had a blood pact with Black,” he said. He did his very best to not think about Black’s blood in Remus’ veins.

“Yes.” Remus had a dangerous glim in his eyes, but Severus pushed on.

“Did you have one with Potter as well?,” he asked, and the violence in the wolf’ eyes let place to understanding.  

“I did,” he said breathlessly, “You think?... Of course. Let’s try it.” He rolled up his sleeve and took his wand out. It could work if there was enough of James Potter’s magic in him.

“This time, please do try to not bleed to death,” Severus said offhandedly. He did not like that Remus had to do blood magic, but the wolf seemed unconcerned by it.

Remus smirked, amused, and Severus’ heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Remus poured some of his blood on the cover. The book glowed as it absorbed it, and Severus knew it had worked. Remus flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the new content, in red over the black ink. Severus got up to stand behind him, leaning against the man. The contact felt good, for reasons Severus did not want to think about.

Since their fight, things had shifted between them, though he was certain Remus was not aware of it as they had not talked about it. Severus would never start such a conversation, but Remus would immediately want to clear things up, so Severus… indulged. It didn’t seem to bother the wolf, and it brought him comfort, so if he lingered a little when their hands accidentally touched, who did it hurt?

Himself, and he knew it, but he was incapable of stopping. It was maddening and he already braced for the inevitable heartbreak, but apparently foolish tendencies were contagious.

Remus’ hand faltered on a page when there was more red than black and Severus stopped focusing on the man’s warmth to take a look at the grimoire. The Amaranth Wards, it now read, with some detailed explanation as to achieve them, instead of some vague account about how blood wards came to be. 

Severus’ mind immediately went to the Greek origin of the word, and he knew by Remus’ sharp inhale that the wolf was thinking about the same thing. Amaranth, or Never Fading.

Immortality. There was no darkest magic than the one ignoring the simplest law of life.

Remus twisted his upper body and their gazes met.

“This has to be it,” whispered Remus, something akin to fearful awe in his voice. They started reading, and Severus thought that Remus’ amazement was warranted.

The Amaranth Wards protected the recipient of the magic against one mortal attack once the wards were completed, whatever the nature of the attack. Not only that, it would make the curse rebound, killing the person casting it. It was exceptional magic that required exceptional skills in both rituals and potion-making. But mostly, it required sacrifices. Plural.

“It says three deaths for one life, Severus.”

Severus stayed silent, his eyes on the line that did indeed mention that it needed three sacrifices – or rather, two sacrifices and the life of the attacker.

“You think he’s not dead.” Remus’ voice was a whisper.

Severus forced himself to breathe. Lily could not have taken into account that the Dark Lord had taken precautions, whatever they were.

The ritual was not balanced, and that was impossibly bad news for Harry.

“Is that why Harry’s magic is going haywire?” A small part of Severus wished Remus would stop pointing out the things he was desperate to not consider, because it was becoming harder and harder to not panic. Harry’s unusually big magical core could be unbalanced. Because of a ritual. And no amount of magical education or occlumency would help unbalanced magic.

“Severus, please say something, I’m freaking out.”

“Yes.” He looked into the wolf’s eyes, trying to communicate he was also panicking – he forgot for an instant that this only worked with Harry, it had become so natural to him. But he still saw understanding, and something else he did not recognize, on Remus’ face.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s study this and find a solution.” The strange look disappeared to let place to the usual determination in the amber eyes, and Severus was glad they were doing this together.

Remus produced a journal and started writing what they knew. All in all, it wasn’t much.

They knew Lily and James had sacrificed themselves, and that for the ritual to be complete, the Dark Lord should have died as well.

They knew they had taken a potion, that this potion took months to brew and had to be taken at a very precise time. Which meant Lily had known she would die months before it happened.

They knew how to do it, and Severus was calculating when was the earliest moment he could brew and take the potion. Because of course they would do it, it wasn’t even something they needed to talk about.  

But… But could Severus let Remus sacrifice himself, too? The thought of the werewolf dying was making his stomach twist painfully. There was Harry to think about, and the child could not go back to his awful family. And even they found a way to make sure Harry would be in a loving home… Severus’ mind was revolting against the idea of Remus’ death.

Severus tried to think about a loophole, because there should be a way to save both of them. Could he do the ritual by himself? That would be much better. He scanned the text again and he was disappointed to find no solution. Tricking someone into doing the ritual in Remus’ place would not work, as was stated in the grimoire. He moved on to the next page.    

Severus almost snorted when he read that the ritual efficacity would depend on the strength of the sacrifice’ love. Obviously. Magic was intent, and it was ridiculous to read the word love in such a context. Someone who undertook such a ritual obviously wanted the person to survive more than they wanted to live, and what else could love be?

It was so simple, it took him a second to realize. Somewhere between the moment he had rescued Harry and now, he had started to love the child. He would do the ritual in a heartbeat, and not only because of his promise to Lily.

And then he understood why it hurt him to imagine that the second sacrifice had to be Remus. He tried occluding again, but it was useless. Again, he was reminded one could not occlude against facts. He loved Remus. He was left breathless with hurt as another realization washed over him. Remus would never love him, after everything that had happened.   

Could it be love, already? Or rather, was it love, again? Because it sure felt a lot similar to what he had felt for Remus when they were teenagers, but at that point he had never been broken up with Lily for more than a month at a time and it had been so much easier to not think about it at all, made him feel a lot less guilty to just ignore it. And then, well. He had been heartbroken, and that was simple and straightforward.

So Severus thought about it. There was desire, obviously. It was always there, the need to touch him, but restraint was something Severus had mastered a long time ago. He burned with the urge to reach out and caress and touch but he resisted.

Longing was also familiar, though harder to deal with because it was just not physical, it was wondering if it was just Remus’ books or their books and what it meant to share books and a roof and a child.

Admiration and gratefulness, for sure. Severus had stopped counting how many times he had been simply gobsmacked by how easily Remus took care of Harry, how Remus was warm and nice and perfect and how he made sure everyone was comfortable and happy.

Vulnerability… though he didn’t want to admit it, Severus had let his guard down since living with them, and he had learned how good it felt again, to let himself be, to not think about how his every move would be interpreted and used against him. To know Remus would not use it against him, ever.  

Yes, maybe… maybe it was love. How did it come to be? Maybe it had been there for a long time, dormant. Maybe Severus had simply slowly remembered everything that made Remus, Remus, and it had been enough.

Severus had nothing of value to offer to a man like Remus Lupin. Severus was only allowed in his home again because Remus was kind and forgiving to a fault. Severus made a promise to himself. He would not allow Remus to undergo the Amaranth Wards ritual. He would find a way to protect both Harry and Remus, and if he had to sacrifice himself to do so, he would, gladly. He knew, in that instant, that he would kill for them too. He would do anything, no matter the costs to his soul.

“… And that means Harry is not protected anymore, right? Severus?” Severus was startled to realize he had not heard a word of what Remus was saying.

“Sorry”, he croaked out.

Remus gave him a weird look – again, that was starting to be worrying – and resumed his theory, his eyes on the grimoire while Severus was cataloging every scar on the man’s face. Severus listened to him and thought you shall never know what I would do for you.

Notes:

Everyone gets some cuddles! finally. I loved writing that scene on the sofa.

make James' death useful, check
give a better explanation for Harry's survival than love and luck, check
Of course they would have done anything to protect Harry, I refuse to believe they simply waited for Voldy to show up, no special wards, no invisibility cloak, no wand, no NOTHING, come on now

And Severus, love, we need to work on your ideas of family and love but that's okay you'll get there eventually :D

Chapter 15

Notes:

I can't believe we are almost there, buckle up!

Before they knew it, the full moon – and Harry’s birthday, a coincidence Remus was disgruntled about – had crept on them. Remus had been more and more frantic as it approached. It wasn’t because he did not trust Severus with the child, on the contrary: Remus was more and more convinced with each day that passed that Severus was everything that Harry needed. Still, it would be the first time since he got Harry that he would not be able to look over him, and it was stressing him out.

On top of that, Sirius was somewhere out there, free, and though Remus triple-checked the wards morning and night, he had a bad feeling about the timing of Sirius’ escape. Could it be pure coincidence that the man had escaped so shortly after they had gotten Harry? Remus wished he was optimistic enough to believe that.

Remus would spend the full moon at Hogwarts. Albus had contacted him by owl – which had been quite stressful – to tell him he could use the shack if he so wished, because it would be better protected than Remus’ usual place, until Sirius’ capture. Albus did not know about Remus’ affinity for blood magic so the werewolf had been forced to accept. He would add his own wards and it would be enough, but he was not fond of the idea of being in the place he almost killed Severus. And so close to Albus, too.

Remus’ opinion of the headmaster had considerably changed since Severus’ arrival with Harry, and he was suspicious about the man’s offer. Maybe it was paranoia, but he could not shake the impression that the man had an agenda for all of them, and Remus had the feeling he would not be happy about the roles they needed to play to fulfill it.

Remus explained to Harry on multiple occasions that he would not leave for long, but he could tell the child was anxious and this was in turn eating at him. So even though he was getting more and more tired and everything hurt as the moon waxed, he tried his best to keep life at the cottage as normal as usual – though he could tell Severus was not impressed by his attempts at looking healthy and energetic, the man slipping him Pepper Up and coffee quite frequently. 

They had decided to have Harry’s birthday party the day before the full moon, as Remus would be too exhausted the day after, even with the Wolfsbane – and Remus did not like the idea that the child had to wait longer for his birthday. He was even more convinced that having it early was the better option when Harry refused to believe he could have a birthday party. He cried when Severus patiently explained to him that he not only deserved one, he would get one every year. Once again, Remus thought that maybe he ought to spend the full moon with Harry’s uncle and aunt.

The birthday party was of course an intimate affair. Remus and Severus had talked about introducing some children to Harry – he needed a friend who did not hiss – but it was too early for that. They wanted to have the ritual in place before they took any risk, and Severus needed time to brew the potion. Once they did the ritual, they would contact Pandora and Augusta, but for now, it was the three of them.

Harry did not seem to mind the limited attendance. He was overjoyed as he unwrapped a broom, some books, some snacks for Ananta and a potion kit for children that Severus pretended to not be equally if not more touched by as Harry. They ate crepes for supper - Harry’s new favorite food, that the child was delighted to eat breakfast food at night - taught Harry how to ride his broom and read the books, the three of them squished on Harry’s bed, when it was time for Harry to sleep, way past his usual bedtime.

Once the adults were alone in the living room, Severus quietly handed him the Wolfsbane. Remus held the vial in his hand, contemplating it for a minute. He appreciated the efforts it had taken. It was also a reminder of how much they had changed, and it left him feeling all sorts of things. When he was finally ready to look at Severus again, he found the man already looking at him with an odd look on his face.

Remus forced himself not to fidget. “Thank you,” he whispered, wondering how he could ever repay the man for the gift that was that potion.

Severus waited for a beat before answering. “It’s nothing,” he said, just as softly, “I don’t want the wolf to do too much damage.”

“No reason to be scared of me anymore, with this,” answered Remus.

“I’m not scared of you, and I meant damage to yourself,” Severus immediately replied, with a slight frown.

Remus looked at him incredulously. Of course Severus was scared of him, or at least despised the creature part of him. His skepticism must have shown on his face because Severus scoffed and closed the distance between them, now close enough that it would not take much movement at all to touch. Remus smelled rosemary and citrus and he felt light-headed by the proximity.  

“I was scared of the wolf, as a sixteen-year-old prick who did not know what was going on, and who almost got killed because of his former friend’s jealous lover. I’m not scared of you.”  Severus’ eyes were dark and honest, and Remus really did want to believe him. He was unable to answer.

“I had.. a lot of misconceptions, for a long time. I regret it,” added Severus.

This was probably the closest they could come to acknowledging what had happened between them, and Remus panicked. He could not have that conversation, it was done and buried, deep, deep inside of him, but there was something he needed desperately to tell Severus before he fled to his bedroom. He had fucked up again and again as a teenager, letting his friends get away with too much, but he had drawn the line at one point and Severus needed to know.

“I broke up with him on the spot, that day, Severus.” After a beat, he added, “I regret it, too,” knowing Severus would understand he was talking about the end of their friendship. He turned to leave when Severus grabbed his arm. Remus’ heartbeat picked up, and he wanted to lean into the contact and just forget all their history… and just start over. If only it worked like that.

“Well of course, he betrayed you,” the man said, evenly, and Remus’ shoulders dropped in disappointment. Severus had misunderstood him. Remus didn’t know why it mattered so much that Severus understood, but it gave him enough courage to try again.

Without looking at him, Remus said softly, “I broke up with him because he almost killed you, not because he revealed my secret.”

He shook him off and left, not looking back to see Severus’ reaction.

 

***

 

Severus sighed, looking at the darkening sky. Remus had left for Hogwarts. It was only Severus, the child, and Severus’ obsessive thoughts about Remus. And the snake, he supposed. And the broom, probably Harry’s favorite thing in the world at the moment. Severus was in the living room, periodically looking out of the window to make sure Harry was okay.

Ananta was on the ground looking over the child and hissing at him while Harry was zooming around in various positions that would have made Severus sweat buckets if he had not spelled the entire garden with cushion charms. Overkill, had said Remus when Severus had put on another layer and cautioned Harry once more. And then Harry had soared by them upside down before stopping abruptly, almost going over the broom, and Remus had paled and helped cast another layer.

Oh, Salazar. The child would want to play quidditch, wouldn’t he? James Potter did live on. Severus knew he should have gotten him the wizard chess set instead. Damn Remus’ pleading eyes. And well. It was Harry’s birthday, and the child was happy. Severus could take a reminder of bad memories, it was fine. At least Harry had been overjoyed by the potion kit as well, there was still hope.

Severus was annoyed that he would like the child whatever he grew up to be. This unconditional love situation was rather inconvenient.

As he looked outside the window once more, he saw that Harry seemed to be done, lying on the grass. Severus knew it was only a matter of time before the child had built his endurance enough to never want to stop, but for now, he was grateful he would not have to drag him away from his broom.

He called Harry inside and they got started on the child’s bedtime routine, a bit early because Severus knew Harry would want to read his new books tonight. As they got ready, Harry’s stream of chatter about his broom did not falter once, his happiness making Severus smile a few times. The child even let out a few giggles and did not react to the noises he made for once. Predictably, Harry begged to go one more time, and how could Severus say no? It was Harry’s birthday. So he relented, and Harry ran back downstairs.

Severus went to the kitchen to make coffee, which would be needed tonight. He did not think he could sleep while Remus was outside, going through a painful transformation. The wolfsbane would help him keep the wolf in control, but there was nothing to do about the pain he felt when bones shifted and reformed. Severus hoped the potion would make enough of a difference that he would be alright tomorrow. He could not stand imagining the man in such pain, and already had a multitude of potions ready, as well as occupations for Harry if Remus was in bad shape.

As he was about to fetch the child, Severus felt the wards pulse so strongly he almost lost his balance. He was immediately blinded by a flash of light, followed by searing pain in his veins. He was outside with his wand out before he realized it, pure fear at the sight that welcomed him.

A nasty-looking man, balding and disfigured, was hunched over the child, his hand in a vice grip around Harry’s arm, who was trying to fight him off. The skin of the man was sizzling as if acid had been poured on it. The man yelped as Ananta sank her teeth into his forearm. He tried to swat her off but she held on. Severus’ curse was almost past his lips as the man turned on himself.

Harry’s eyes left Ananta and settled on Severus. The child hissed loudly – hissed! -, just as help was yelled in Severus’ mind. The two of them disapparated with the man as Severus’ curse caught his back.

Severus was glad for everything he had gone through during the war because he knew lesser men would have lost their minds there and now. There was no time to panic. He raised his occlumency shields easily, as if they had never been gone, and put everything in the river, his rage, his love, his terror, his shock at Harry speaking Parseltongue. He took a deep breath as the cold settled back in him.

The wards had been broken. Harry was gone. Remus could not help. Severus would get their child back if it killed him.

Simple, true statements.

Severus marched to the spot where they had vanished, looking for something, anything. His eyes caught drops of blood on the grass, courtesy of Ananta. That would do.

Severus carefully levitated the bloodstained strands of grass and ran back inside, to his makeshift potion station in the corner of the kitchen, as he promised himself to put a tracker charm on Harry and to understand how it was possible that the wards had failed once he had Harry in his arms.

His reluctance about blood magic had evaporated the instant Harry had disappeared. He separated the blood from the grass and let it fall into his cauldron without second thoughts, mechanically adding the ingredients he had collected just in case – paranoia always paid off -  after stumbling upon an interesting potion in the Potter Grimoire. The long, straight slit he cut along his arm to add his own blood did not even sting. It was a quick potion to prepare, thankfully. He had it ready in less than 30 minutes, though he felt each of these minutes like a knife to the heart.

He had to get out of the wards to drink it, and in the few seconds it took him to cross the garden, he wondered if Remus had felt the wards being breached. There was no telling how his lycanthropy would interact with the blood magic. If Remus knew, he would be frantic with worry, stuck in his wolf form in the shack.

Severus stopped walking. He had to let Remus know. Reluctantly, he let his shields drop, the terror of losing Harry coming back with full force, but the cold did not recede. He gritted his tears through the fear and focused on the happiest memory he could think of: Harry in his arms, Remus sleeping next to them on the sofa, in the safety of what he was starting to consider home.

“Expecto Patronum,” he whispered, distantly surprised when it worked. He hadn’t been able to produce a corporeal Patronus since Regulus’ death. The wolf – Merlin, Severus could not think about what this development implied – stood, waiting for instructions.

“Go to Remus and tell him I am taking care of it.” The wolf patronus bowed and disappeared. There. Sufficiently vague not to alarm him if he did not feel the wards, sufficiently reassuring if he did. Severus raised his shields back up and drank the potion.

Notes:

Oups?
Hey, on the plus side, Severus thought of Harry as *their* child, among other fluffy things buried in the angst :)

Chapter 16

Notes:

Biggest chapter so far! Enjoy :)

Severus swore under his breath as he apparated to a very familiar place, quite easy to recognize under the light of the full moon. The potion had brought him to the Forbidden Forest, just outside the wards but still too close to Hogwarts and the Shrieking Shack to be a coincidence. The man that had taken Harry was not Black, Severus would have recognized him, but it could be an accomplice. Who else would come here, of all places, during a full moon, the only day Remus would not be with Harry?

Severus looked around, frantically searching for signs of Harry. He spotted a small form on the ground, not far away from his apparition point. His heart stopped for a second before he started running towards it, not allowing himself to think as the form as Harry’s body. He dropped to the ground next to his child, his left hand checking for a pulse as he used his other hand to cast diagnostic spells. Harry was passed out, but nothing else seemed wrong. Relieved beyond measure, Severus quickly scanned his surroundings for any threats. It seemed that the man was gone, but he still cast multiple protection charms.

Severus heard a howl and immediately took Harry in his arms, holding him against his chest. A dog appeared with something bloody and wildly struggling between his teeth and stopped a few meters away. Severus pointed his wand at it, noting that the dog looked in poor shape.

Before he could cast anything, a huge wolf stood in between them, growling at the dog. The wolf was not as scary as Severus remembered. It was quite beautiful actually, like a normal wolf, but much bigger – and exactly like Severus’ patronus. But it was hurt, Severus could tell, because there was a long slit along one of his front leg that was bleeding profusely, not unlike Severus’ arm. Severus looked at it and a terrible, terrible doubt hit him.  

“Remus,” he said. When he got no reaction, he tried again, “Moony?”. The wolf softly whined but kept his stance. The dog tilted its head. Severus forced himself to tear his eyes away from the wolf and the blood.

Severus was in an awkward position, half kneeling on the ground with Harry, his movements quite limited. It would be hard to defend the child, but he was ready to disapparate. Remus would take care of the dog. Before he could, though, Harry stirred in his arms, waking up. He immediately locked eyes with Severus.

Where is Ananta? She said the rat was bad and she attacked him and then the dog-

Harry’s thoughts were a whirlwind and Severus barely understood what had happened. It was the second time Harry had mentioned the snake talking to him, but unlike in Diagon Alley, Severus knew now that Harry meant it literally. Severus forced himself to move past the fact that Harry spoke parseltongue.

Out loud, he said, “Moony, I’m talking to our child,” hoping the wolf would understand he needed to look away for a few moments.

The rat?, Severus asked.

The man changed into a rat when the dog attacked him, Harry answered.

Severus looked at the dog again, and now he could tell that what was in his jaw was indeed a rat. An animagus, then. He looked at the child again, and asked him to please show him what had happened. He pushed some comforting magic through Harry and the child relaxed.

It was a mess still, even with the child somehow calmed down, but Severus managed to untangle the events. The man had brought Harry there, but before he could do anything, Ananta had bitten him again, just when the dog had appeared. There had been quite the magical explosion – Severus would bet it was Harry, but the child seemed to not realize it was his doing, not the dog – and the man had changed and ran away in the confusion. Then Harry had passed out.  

The relief that nothing untoward had happened to Harry was overwhelming.

I’m proud of you, Severus said, and kissed Harry’s forehead. He looked up again.

“Is the dog also an animagus?” he asked. After a beat, the dog nodded.

“Foe or friend?” To be fair, Severus would have stuned both the rat and the dog and then dealt with it, but he was feeling indebted to the dog animagus for helping Harry.

The dog hesitated, and Severus frowned, his arm straightening again. He would not hesitate to hex him. But Moony growled, and the dog nodded once more.

“I will stun the rat. Harry, don’t look.” There was no need to scare the child further.

The dog let go of the now stunned rat, and Severus cast his magic-blocking spell on it. The rat immediately transformed back into a man, and Severus made sure Harry’s face was hidden against his neck before approaching. He took a few steps and had to stop.

He knew who it was. It couldn’t be, and yet.

Passed out in front of him, barely recognizable due to the numerous burns on his face, was Peter Pettigrew. He was bleeding profusely from Severus’ curse at Liora’s cottage. Severus’ eyes caught sight of what remained of the Dark Mark on the man’s arm, next to a snake bite.

Severus startled slightly when he felt something on his leg, but it was simply Ananta, climbing along his body until she reached Harry and squeezed around the child’s shoulders, who was now slightly shaking.

“Peter Pettigrew… whose murder Sirius Black was convicted for,” Severus whispered, mindful of the child shaking in his arms, and the dog whined.  

Severus looked at the dog. Surviving and escaping Azkaban made more sense, now.

“Stay in this form for now. We are not on allies’ ground,” he said to Black. He couldn’t voice his distrust in Albus clearly, but Black seemed to understand, though he seemed surprised by Severus’ lack of animosity. He could not know Severus was occluding enough to not feel hate towards the man that took it all the first time around and was about to do it again.

Because Severus was now forced to consider what Black’s innocence would mean for his relationship with Remus. Or with Harry.

This was almost too much. Severus was brave, but he was barely just brave enough to do what he had to do now that Black was back in Remus’ life. He could tell his occlumency was steering into dangerous territories – it had been since Harry’s kidnapping, but since his arrival at Hogwarts, he had pushed past his limits and he knew he was about to do irremediable damage.

Black was innocent, and Peter Pettigrew could be the key to his freedom. Severus wanted to be selfish, but Remus had loved- loved Sirius Black, and he could not jeopardize the man’s chance at happiness.

Black would be everything Remus and Harry needed. Severus was aware that Remus wanted Harry to have another … parent in his life, and the werewolf had clearly been pleased to see that Severus and Harry were getting along, but Severus was acutely aware of his shortcomings. Soon, Remus would get frustrated with Severus’ inability to truly connect with the child. Harry needed someone loveable, someone reliable.

And anyway, wouldn’t two people who loved each other be better parents?

There was something else, additionally. Severus refused to let Remus do the Amaranth Wards with him. Sirius Black would agree to do them, Severus knew it. Sirius Black had loved James Potter like a brother, and he was Harry’s godfather. It was the perfect solution to allow both Remus and Harry to be safe. Severus needed Black alive and free, and if that meant he had to take a step back and let them be happy together, so be it. He could do it, for Lily’s son and Lily’s friend.

Severus considered their options, and they were limited. They needed sufficient proof that Pettigrew had framed Black. Remus would want to keep Albus out of the equation, but they might not have a choice; the headmaster’s considerable political influence would facilitate any legal process. They would just have to hope he wouldn’t use his influence to take Harry from Remus. Alternatively, they could involve the aurors directly, but it would be a lot less smooth and probably cause a lot of issues for everyone included. Mostly for Remus, who would be charged for being around humans during a full moon. Severus looked again at Moony’s bleeding front leg. They would also be charged for doing blood magic.

Whatever they did, if Pettigrew lived, it would be the end of Severus’ cover. He would be too compromised to fulfill whatever plan Albus had; which meant Albus would be less likely to help them and to let Remus raise Harry. Which meant Black would go back to Azkaban, if he was lucky, or would get a Dementor kiss immediately. The latter option was much more likely.

Severus almost let it happen, but there was too much at stake. Whatever agenda Albus had. The ritual he needed to do with Black. Remus and Harry’s happiness. Harry’s safety.

Peter Pettigrew thus had to die in a way that would clear Black and that could not be traced back to Severus or Remus.

Harry’s warm breath against his neck made a stark contrast with Severus’ train of thoughts and he briefly wondered if it would be this easy to plan a murder if he was not occluding. He tightened his grip on Harry. When it came to someone who had threatened the safety of his child, it probably would be.

His decision taken, Severus made sure once more that Harry’s face was safely hidden against him, murmured a Muffliato to cover the child’s ears, and pointed his wand at the body at his feet.

“Enervate,” he calmly spoke.

Pettigrew gasped and immediately scrambled to his knees, his mutilated hand coming to his face to scratch at the burnt skin. Severus wondered if the burns were due to the effects of the wards or another form of magic. He knew though that Pettigrew would now be in excruciating pain due to the magic blocking spell, and indeed, the man seemed unable to straighten his body. And on top of that was Ananta’s venom, not deadly but still painful.

Pettigrew’s eyes darted between the wolf, the dog and Severus, apparently unsure of who he should be most scared of. Severus snarled as the pathetic excuse for a man did not even try to get his wand out to fight. It would have been useless, with the magic blocking spell, but at least it would have been more respectable than being on his knees in front of the people he had betrayed.

Remus and Black were both growling at Pettigrew, and he seemed to decide he should try to appeal to their better nature rather than beg the one holding the wand. He shuffled on his knees in their direction but stopped as the growls grew fiercer.

“Padfoot… Moony… my old friends… How good it is to see you again… I see that you have Moony under control, don’t you, Remus?” he spoke through his teeth, obviously trying to not cry out in pain.

Moony let out a vicious snarl that made the man whimper pathetically and clearly communicated that he was a wrong move away from being torn apart. Severus was glad he had made sure Harry could not hear them; Remus would have been devasted if he had scared the child.

“Enough. Peter Pettigrew, did you sell the Potters to the Dark Lord?,” Severus asked, his voice dripping in disgust. He just needed a confession and he could bring Harry to safety, he did not want to witness such a pitiful sight for a second longer than necessary.

“Snape… you understand, surely. You joined him before me, you were his most loyal follower… He forced me to join him, his power…” Peter was now approaching him, his knees dragging in the mud and Severus had to resist the impulse to kick at him.

Apparently, that was the last straw for Black, who transformed, stood between Pettigrew and Severus, and spat at his former friend.

“DON'T LIE! YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!,” he yelled, his eyes unfocused and crazy.

Severus realized he had more in common with the shadow of a man who was begging on his knees in the dirt than he previously thought, and it took everything in him not to occlude ever harder. At least he had never begged for his own life, he only ever did it for Regulus’ or Lily’s.

He threw his disgust and guilt in the river and pushed some calming magic into the child instead of entertaining the thought that he could have been in Pettigrew’s position in other circumstances.

“He ― he was taking over everywhere! W-what was there to be gained by refusing him? He would have killed me, Sirius!”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!” bellowed Black.

Faced with Black’s furry, Pettigrew managed to make himself even smaller. Severus had seen enough. He needed some answers but he mostly needed to make sure his child was safe so he took a few steps forward to stand next to Black and pointed his wand at Pettigrew’s forehead.

“Is anyone else aware of Harry’s location?” he demanded. He needed to make sure there weren’t any of his … ex-colleagues after the child. Harry moved slightly in his arms, probably curious – as always with him, Severus should have known better than to expect him to keep his face hidden and not look. “Change back, Black. You do not want your first interaction with Harry to be this.” The child was still under Muffliato but Black’s appearance would suffice in scaring him.

Let me be what he needs for a little more, Severus thought. Let me comfort him tonight, and you can be there for him later. Black looked at Harry longingly but complied.

Severus pushed the tip of his wand against Pettigrew’s skin. “Well?” He would not hesitate to use Legilimency if he had to, but it would be better if Remus could hear it too.

“No, no, just me, I swear it! I swear…” He wasn’t lying, Severus could tell.  

“Why did you kidnap Harry?” Severus almost let the killing curse flee from his wand, barely holding it in. He would never forget the terror he had felt when Harry had disappeared.

“A month ago… It suddenly felt like fiendfyre in my veins. So, so painful… I did not understand why… The next day, I saw him in Diagon Alley, looking exactly like James and I recognized dear, dear Remus… I figured he used blood magic again and I need to reverse it, it is killing me!” Pettigrew was now weeping, his dirty nails still scratching at his face, unaware that it wasn’t the pact anymore, it was Severus’ spell that was causing him excruciating pain.

Black made a weird sound, that Severus imagined was a strained laugh. Severus was unsure about what exactly involved the blood wards Remus had done, but it seemed plausible that if he had a blood pact with Pettigrew – one more, Remus’ disregard for laws was proving to be a personality trait –, the traitor would suffer from any renewed wards using his blood. Black’s timely escape also made more sense, now. The man had probably felt the new wards and had known something had happened to Harry.

In that moment, Severus realized he just needed to release the block for the blood wards to come back with full force, along with his magic, and kill Pettigrew. He was a dead man walking. Severus had to act quickly. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to witness a man’s death.

He took a deep breath and turned to Black. “You might have to entrust Albus with handling this, if you want to be free, Black. But do not, in under any circumstances, mention Harry.” After a pause, he added, “A body shall suffice.”

But before he even thought about the destination, a loud pop on his left made him tense, his arms automatically tightening around Harry. His heart dropped as he recognized the man standing over Peter’s wriggling form, his head tilted as if presented with a difficult problem.  

Albus.

The headmaster met his gaze and then looked down at Harry. Severus had to force himself to breathe normally. He took a defensive stance once again, barely managing to avoid raising his wand against Albus.

“Severus, Harry, Mister Pettigrew, Mister Lupin, and… Mister Black, I suppose?” The dog growled and Albus looked amused, his eyes sparkling. Severus’ fingers twitched with the need to hex the old fool and run. He knew he would have cast the killing curse twice that night already, if he wasn’t occluding. Moony slowly moved to stand between Albus and Severus.

“So that’s where Harry has been,” the headmaster continued, unbothered, “I did wonder why you were not at Spinner’s End, Severus. I must admit I am surprised that you went to Mister Lupin, considering your history.” Severus ignored that last sentence; Albus did not know anything about him and Remus and it had to stay that way.

“That is what happens when you leave children in abusive homes, Albus. They tend to not want to stay,” Severus answered, thinking about Harry, about Regulus, about himself. Black growled menacingly, and Albus looked chastised for a second before sighing.

“There are reasons Harry needs to stay at Privet Drive, and you should know better than most that we need to be reasonable about young Harry’s safety,” Albus replied, his tone soft and condescending.

Be reasonable. In the face of abuse, of lack of love, of a little boy going mute due to trauma, they needed to be reasonable. Severus held onto the river with all his strength.

“Over my dead body,” he calmly said instead of what he really wanted, which would be a sure way to earn himself a one-way ticket to Azkaban.

Albus’ eyes widened but he recovered quickly, nodding as if Severus had just not told him he would duel him to death if he tried to take his child away.  “It seems that we are at an impasse, then.” They were. Severus knew Albus did not care about Harry as a person, and he had been okay with that fact until a month ago. But that had to stop right now and right there. The time of Albus using him or Harry as pawns to fulfill his agenda was over. It was time to state his demands.

“You’re to let Harry with Remus and not intervene. Remus is powerful enough to protect him and Harry will not, under any circumstances, go back to the muggles.” Severus felt nauseous but his voice did not tremble as he added,  “You are going to exonerate Black, as well.” He kept his eyes on Albus but saw in the corner of his vision that Moony’s head had snapped in his direction at that.

Severus knew it was coming, the bargaining, the price for Harry’s happiness, because Albus Dumbledore never did anything for free. Unfortunately for Severus, there was little he was not ready to give up for Harry, and he had shown his hand.

Albus’s right arm started glowing with the unmistakable light of an unbreakable vow. He smiled at Severus in a way that would have been comforting if Severus did not know better. Severus moved to stand in front of him, ignoring Moony’s whines.

“Harry will stay with Remus. In exchange, you will promise to do whatever it takes, when the time comes, to ensure Voldemort’s defeat.”

Severus hesitated. It was too easy. The prophecy stated that only one could live. Ensuring the Dark Lord’s defeat should thus protect Harry. Severus ignored the dread he felt; he knew he was stuck. Albus had considerable power over his life, that was nothing new, but at least Harry would be safe. He could not hope for more.

Severus took Albus’ forearm in his and let the magic bind them. Harry shook in his arms and Severus quickly took two steps back. “I will see you in September, Severus,” said Albus, sounding almost sorry.  

Severus did not bother with an answer as he tightened his grip on Harry and whispered in his hair, too softly for anyone else to hear, “Let’s go home, Harry.” He could still call it home for a little while, he supposed. He looked at the wolf one more time, committing the image of Remus’ other form to memory.

He released the magic block spell on Pettigrew and with a pop, they disapparated.

 

***

 

Remus, no, Moony – fuck he didn’t even know anymore, the wolfsbane was definitely helping him retain his humanity and control but his mind was torn between wolf and human and he had had no time to sort it out before everything went to shit - was losing his fucking mind. The second he had felt the wards being breached would be his greatest nightmare for the rest of his life, he knew it.

The helplessness that had followed had almost driven him crazy before he managed to get out of the shack – fucking Dumbledore and his magic, it had taken way too long – and he would have ran to the cottage, not caring about the distance, the people he might meet, the danger, if he had not received the most amazing patronus he had ever seen. And before he had time to recover from the form of said patronus, he had heard a bark he could have recognized anywhere.

He had followed the sound, ready to tear Padfoot apart, but Padfoot had been cornering something against a tree and Remus’ heart had stopped thinking it might be Harry. But the scent was not the child, it wasn’t caramel and coffee, no, it was something sticky and sour and it had had the same effect as Sirius’ bark. It was impossible, and yet. Remus had gotten around Padfoot, in a trance, and faced a pathetic-looking rat, covering in fear and squeaking. Pleading. Wormtail, alive.

The truth of Peter’s betrayal had hit Remus like a ton of brick, and rage like he had rarely known had taken over. Wormtail had been lucky Padfoot had gotten to him first. Moony had barely managed to get himself under control – Remus’ rational mind was fighting to keep him from attacking Padfoot to get to Wormtail – when he had felt Severus’ apparition, and then Albus’. Then, his only thought had been about protecting Harry and Severus.

And now, it was just the headmaster, the two surviving Marauders and the body of the one that had brought them down and that Remus had fucking mourned like an idiot. Padfoot was tense and unmoving, and he was looking at Moony with his tail between his leg.

Albus sighed, “I’ll take care of this. Come find me in the morning,” he said before turning and walking towards the castle, levitating Peter’s body. Moony looked at him leave and barely managed to not growl at the retreating form, beyond furious at the unbreakable vow the headmaster had made Severus take. But this would have to wait.

Moony moved, unable to take the tension anymore, and carefully approached Padfoot. He sniffed him, smelling the pain and the terror of Azkaban on his fur, and let a whine, still in shock. Padfoot cautiously returned the gesture.

He didn’t know who moved first but they ended in the closest form of a hug they could in their canine forms, pushing their weight against each other and whimpering apologies. They had so much talking to do, once they were back in their human forms, but for now, they settled down together.

Moony was desperate for the full moon to be over. Everything was so horrible, with the truth of what had happened to Sirius and the guilt and the fear but most of all the need to make sure both Harry and Severus were okay. He wanted to be with his family and missed them cruelly as he watched the sky slowly lighten. He kept thinking about how Severus had said our child and there was an unfamiliar kind of pain in his ribcage as he thought about Severus making sure Sirius would be free.

Moony kept thinking about Severus’ face as he had turned to leave, cold and sad, and the overwhelming scent of his occlumency. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch the man’s face, to make sure he had not gone and froze himself over. He wanted to go back to that night on the sofa, one hand in Severus’ hair and the other in Harry’s as they slept, safe and sound and together. He wanted to go back to the tentative closeness and the touches and the slowly but surely realizing he was once again head over heels in love with Severus. Could they go back to that, now?

Moony looked at Padfoot and wondered.

When morning came, finally, Moony braced himself for a painful transformation back under the watchful eye of Padfoot. It hurt, but having a friendly presence helped, as well as the fact that for once he remembered everything that had happened thanks to Severus’ potion. Without the confusion, it was much easier to get up. Padfoot fetched his clothes and once Remus was dressed, he transformed as well.

They stood in tense silence for a few seconds, Remus taking in the damages Azkaban had done to his friend. The picture in the Prophet was not a full body shot, so Sirius’ emaciated figure was a shock. Remus held out his hand. Sirius grabbed it like a man drowning and pulled Remus into a hug.

“Fuck, Moons, I missed you,” whispered Sirius, his grip tightening.

“I’m so sorry, Sirius, I’m so sorry” Remus answered, feeling saddened by the nickname. Severus had called him Moony, earlier, and it had been welcomed, but Sirius’ use of the name was full of nostalgia and regret. There was not much more to say, for now. They let go of each other after a minute.

“Snape, huh?” Sirius finally said, his eyebrows almost to his hairline. Remus could tell Sirius was fighting against the urge to say more.

“He saved Harry,” he answered simply.

Sirius nodded, grave. He had seen how Severus behaved with Harry – and Remus felt warm all over thinking about it- , so Remus did not feel like he needed to justify it further. They would have time for explanations later, when Sirius was a free man and when Remus had made sure Harry and Severus were okay. Sirius must have sensed the urgency because he did not add anything as they took off towards the castle.

Notes:

When I wrote this chapter a few weeks ago, it was obvious to me that I would kill Pettigrew because he is my least favorite character. But I read Peter Pettigrew and the Ghost of Christmas James last weekend and now I'm not so sure I hate him?? it's a great fic I can't rec it enough! I laughed, I cried, I lost some sleep. I had the best time.
Anyway, Peter is dead. What does it mean for the return of Voldemort? I'm working on it. ;)
See you very soon for the very last chapter, and then there will be an epilogue in a week <3

Chapter 17

Severus knew he should probably move at some point but he felt rooted to his spot, standing in the doorway of Harry’s bedroom and counting the breaths of the child. He had no idea how he was supposed to let him out of his sight ever again.

Harry had not cried when they had apparated to Liora’s Cottage. He had held on tightly to Severus as he had gone through the house and put on temporary wards before carrying the child to his bedroom. He had sat against the headboard and waited for Harry to fall asleep, lulled by Ananta’s hissing, before tucking him into bed and getting up to leave. Except he had not been able to go further than the doorway.  

The soft light of the early morning was now pouring through the curtains of Harry’s bedroom and Severus felt nauseous with exhaustion, but he still could not move. He should try to get some sleep. Or he should go check the Grimoire to plan for the ritual, now that he knew he could do it, and the potion should be ready for the next step. He could get some supplies ready for Remus – the wolf had not seemed to be hurt (apart from the cut, but Severus could not think about that right now), but the transformation could still go badly.

But his feet were refusing to move, so he stayed there and watched over Harry and wondered how he was supposed to let go. Maybe they could work something out with Remus? Severus doubted Black would be happy to have Severus around, but maybe Remus would allow him to visit Harry. He just wanted to keep seeing them, he would not ask for more.

Severus felt the wards vibrate as Remus entered them, and he relaxed. The wolf was back. Severus stayed where he was, though. He listened to the stairs creak as Remus made his way up. He could tell he was tired, but it did not sound like he was limping. He was unable to turn around to check, though.

A hand slid into his. Shivers ran up Severus’ arm and he forgot how to breathe for a second. He did not want to look but he couldn’t help himself, he needed to check if Remus was okay. He slowly let his eyes come up and met Remus’, so close he could distinguish the tiny specks of brown in the amber of his iris. There was definitely tiredness in them, but fondness too. Severus did not let himself think about what it meant. Remus was okay, and that was all that mattered.

Remus sighed as he looked away and took in the sight of Harry peacefully sleeping.

“Drop your shields, Severus. You’re freezing,” he murmured, which made chills go up Severus’ spine. He was reluctant to do so, the pain was already barely tolerable.

Severus complied anyway, and he was unsurprised to feel a tear running down his cheek. Between Remus, Harry, Black, and Albus, it had been a trying 24 hours. He wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again.

“Oh no, love,” Remus whispered, his free hand coming up to wipe the wetness away. Severus resolutely kept his eyes on Harry. Did Remus have to be so cruel? “I’m so sorry,” he continued, his grip tightening around Severus’ hand.

“What for?” Severus managed, his voice steady despite it all.  

“The wards. I put both of you in danger.” Severus startled and turned his face to look at Remus. He looked contrite, and Severus scoffed, but it came out a bit wet.

“You could not know Black was innocent and Pettigrew alive. You went above and beyond, used blood magic and put your magic on the line, to make sure Harry was safe. You do not have to apologize, least of all to me.”

Remus smiled sadly and sighed. Severus knew he was not convinced and that nothing he could say would help.

“It’s a good thing, in the end. You get Black again. Harry gets another parent.” Severus was proud of himself for keeping the pain and the resentment out of his voice.

“I guess it is,” whispered Remus, in a tone that was not happy as Severus expected. Remus almost sounded… disappointed. Remus let go of his hand and Severus felt colder than he had while he was occluding. Annoyingly, he felt his eyes burn again and tried to keep more tears from spilling.

He couldn’t stop staring at Remus. He was just so beautiful, even after the terrible night he had had. The light highlighted every single scar, the shadow of his eyelashes contrasting in such a lovely manner against the silver lines that Severus could only drink the sight of him, mesmerized. Despite the sorrow and the nausea, he wanted to stay like this forever.

Severus’ eyes caught on the matching slits on their left arms that neither him or Remus had apparently bothered to heal, and he just needed to ask, “Why do you have the same wound as I do?” Severus knew he was going to hate the answer.

Remus inhaled sharply, guilt and then something else passing on his face as he rolled his shoulders back and jutted his chin towards Severus, looking at him expectantly.

“Why is your patronus a wolf, Severus?,” he asked instead, determination in his eyes.

Severus blanched, unable to speak. The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? He was in love with Remus. Desperately, hopelessly in love. So in love he would do anything to make Remus happy, including leaving.

He knew it was all over his face. How could it not? He was not occluding, and he knew he looked like a lovesick idiot every time he looked at Remus. His feelings were displayed plainly for the world to see. Severus felt like he was going to break into a million pieces.

And Remus asked about his patronus, so he had to know, too. The wolf took both of Severus’ hands in his to pull him slightly down the corridor, leaving Harry’s door open as they always did.

“When you came over, that first day at the shack…” Remus looked away, his eyes unfocused and distant. “I told you I would put wards to protect Harry, and I did. Traditional wards, both runes and blood ones, on the cottage. You know blood magic is not something I shy away from,” Remus smirked, unamused and dangerous, “Peter can attest to that.”

Severus nodded, listening attentively but even more focused on the feeling of Remus’ hands in his, warm and strong.

“I had to do a blood pact to let you enter the cottage, but I did something else at that moment, too,” Remus said, his voice softer. There were amber eyes on him again, and Severus tried to not analyze the look that was in them, but he could not ignore the determination and the fondness that were radiating from Remus. One could not use legilimency on werewolves, but he could feel an urgency, a need that Severus understood, that he would be okay with whatever Remus was going to say. For a second, it felt just like communicating with Harry.

“It’s not only a blood pact, what we have. I swore my life and my magic for your safety, for Harry… and for you.”

Severus kept looking into Remus’ eyes, trying to hold on to his ignorance. Remus was hurt in the same manner that he was. Severus was not bleeding as much as he should. There was an explanation but the despair, the pain was too great, he refused to believe it. Because his plan to keep Remus safe would not work if what Remus said was true.

Distantly, he wondered if Remus regretted it, now that he knew what Severus had done, now that Black could come back to him.

“You’re telling me I can’t do the Amaranth ritual,” murmured Severus, hurt beyond reason by what Remus had done.

“Yes. Sirius will do it with me.”

“I can’t, Remus.” I can’t let you die. Severus forced some air into his lungs. “It does not make sense for you to do it. Harry needs you.”

“Harry needs both of us. And I need you. You don’t have to die protecting him, you need to live, Severus.” Remus let go of his hands to brush Severus’ hair away from his face, so tenderly that Remus’ fingertips against his cheek felt like a burn.

Severus knew he must look unconvinced, but he was too terrified to answer. He was a great duelist, maybe even one of the best, but he was not invincible. And if he was to stay a spy, any torture at the hands of the Dark Lord… Remus would be tortured too. The chances of Remus getting hurt through him were too high.

Remus continued, unaware of Severus’ inner turmoil, “I have already lived far longer than I thought possible. It’s okay, Sev. Please, please understand. It makes sense for me to do it.”

Severus couldn’t. He wanted to beg and cry, but it was useless, it would not change the fact that it would not only be useless but wasteful for him to do the ritual. It made sense, Remus thought, but there was no sense in letting the man he loved put himself in danger again.

Instead of all that, he said, “I don’t deserve to survive you.” And Severus would not, he really would not. He would watch Harry so closely he would never be put in harm’s way again, he would step in between his child and any curses thrown at him, he would never let the ritual be useful. “Please let me stay close to Harry, then,” he asked, ready to beg if Remus refused.

But he was met with shocked silence, and Remus shook his head, seeming bemused and a little angry.

“What do I need to do for you to understand that you are not only welcome here, you are wanted?”

“But… Black is-“ Severus tried, still holding on to his plan to undergo the ritual, somehow, and let Black and Remus raise Harry.

“I don’t want Sirius, I want you!” Remus exclaimed, fervor in his eyes. Severus was speechless. He felt strange, as if he was floating away from his body.

“Come on, Severus. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it, too. I want you to stay. With me. With us.”

“But I thought you hated me, for the prophecy,” said Severus, barely audible over the sound of his heart beating so hard it hurt.

“I- I was mad, yes. But I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite, really. The wards I put on you are not the only reason I want to do the Amaranth ritual myself.” Remus’ eyes were clear and honest and full of hope and Severus ached.

“You were my first love, do you know that?,” continued Remus. Severus was floored. Hogwarts… well he had almost gone crazy over his relationship with Remus, but never in a million years had he thought the werewolf had had similar feelings. And even now, he could barely believe the words that were passing Remus’ lips. Severus felt like he should apologize, but Remus took a step forward, letting barely any distance between their faces.

“I was alone. You brought me Harry. You came back. You saved me.” Severus wanted to deny that, it was Remus and Harry that had saved him, not the other way around, but Remus did not let him time to speak. “The wards are the best thing I have ever done. I know you did not believe me back then, but please…” Severus thought about a 15-year-old Remus telling him he wanted him in his life, forever, and what his reaction had been at the time. Running away.

Remus slowly traced Severus’ cheekbone with a finger, looking as fragile as Severus felt. “I’m serious about this. I would not ask if I was not certain. Stay here. Raise Harry with me. Let us try, this time.”  

Try. Trying was something Severus never thought he would ever get to do again. Though this time he knew there would be no coming back from this. Remus licked his lips and all of Severus’ resolve evaporated. He looked at the man in front of him, the bravest man he knew, and what he was about to do did not feel so brave and impossible anymore in the face of Remus Lupin giving him everything he could ever want.

Severus gave the tiniest nod, in a trance, and closed the last few centimeters between them, finally, finally tasting Remus’ lips. Remus was kissing him back, so gently that Severus wondered if Remus was afraid of breaking him. Not that it wasn’t something that he shouldn’t worry about, because Severus was pretty sure something inside him shattered the second Remus’ lips touched his.

Severus deepened the kiss, urging the werewolf to stop being so careful, and Remus responded in earnest, his fingers finding their way into Severus’ hair. I’m never letting you go again, he thought. You would have to kill me. Did Remus just tug on his hair? Salazar. The noise he made was not human and he did not care, just not gone enough to wonder if he was actually dead already because he had no recent memories of feeling this good.

It was so warm and comfortable, and he never wanted it to stop. Remus seemed on board with that plan, because suddenly they were two hands under his butt and his thighs were desperately squeezing Remus’ waist. Remus carried him like he weighed nothing, a reminder of the werewolf’s strength that turned Severus on even more, if that was possible. Severus managed to gather his wits for a second to shoot a spell that would alert them if Harry woke as well as a silencing charm as Remus closed the door to his bedroom with his foot. They collapsed on the bed and Severus stopped thinking altogether. 

Notes:

Finally TT Severus my boy you have ISSUES and it's my own damn fault I know, but listen..... avoidant types.... we suck, okay, I have no excuses. but no more of that, I swear there's no way he's running away again now. I will probably explore their relationship more in another work, they are just too great.

I posted a bit early as a thank you to all of you who have left kudos and comments. I write fanfiction for fun but sharing always makes me nervous, so you guys' reactions and encouragements mean the world, and greatly motivate me to write and post more <3 so thank you again for reading and interacting, and see you soon for the very last chapter of the first part of this series :D

Chapter 18

Epilogue – December 1986

Severus apparated to Liora’s Cottage from Hogsmeade as he did every night, and just like every night, he was greeted by an excited six-year-old throwing himself at him as soon as he passed the wards.

I missed you!

I missed you too, Harry. Severus marveled at how easy it was for him to say it.

Severus easily lifted his child and buried his face in his hair for a moment. After a few seconds of simply relishing the feeling of Harry safe in his arms, he carried the child to the door, the stress of the day leaving him. Harry had put on some weight since the summer and had gone through a growth spurt, but he was still light enough to carry and Severus had promised himself to do it as long as Harry wanted.

Harry was doing much better. After the events of his birthday, he had reverted briefly to the shy child Severus had rescued from the Dursleys, but after quite a few conversations with Remus, and later Black, Harry had settled once more. He played in the garden by himself again, still scared them half to death every time he was on his broom, and he was getting better at restraining his magic, though Severus knew it was too early to even talk about control. He was having nightmares, but they were dealing with it.

Severus put Harry down as they entered the kitchen, the child running to get his snake from his bed. Severus did not hesitate and marched toward Remus, took him in his arms and kissed him as if it had been weeks since he last saw him. He did not know how it was possible, but he managed to miss the man during the day even though he spent every night sleeping next to him and was woken every morning with his hand caressing his hair. Remus laughed when Severus broke the kiss, and Severus knew he would never tire of the happiness that shone in Remus’ eyes.

Even though that happiness came at a cost Severus still had to learn to accept. He had seethed the day Remus and Black had done the ritual, two months ago, agonizing at the idea that Remus would be in mortal peril if anything happened to Harry and that Severus could not do anything to stop it. There had been no screaming match, not that Severus had not wanted to yell and beg, but the day had still ended with Severus crying hysterically in Remus’ arms.

And that was also new and scary. Severus had managed to keep most manifestations of his more intense feelings under control despite the lack of occlumency, but he was breaking down more than he thought was reasonable after over a decade of not shading a tear. Severus had also to admit that being able to connect with Harry more deeply was reason enough to try and push through the discomfort. 

Remus was there every time, too, and Severus was there in turn for him. The werewolf was healthier than ever thanks to the wolfsbane – and Black’s presence during the full moons, though Severus tried to not think about it too much. The first moon after Harry’s kidnapping had been nerve-wracking, but everything had gone well and it was becoming easier and easier to let Remus leave for his transformation. Remus was thriving as Harry’s parent, and Severus might be biased but the wolf looked more and more handsome as he too put on some weight back, and dealt with his own issues regarding Pettigrew’s betrayal and Black’s time in Azkaban.

Severus let go of Remus as Harry came crashing into the kitchen with his snake around his shoulders, the potion master still feeling shy with his affection in front of the child. They had hidden their relationship from Harry at first, but the child had been less than impressed by their hiding skills and had told them as much, one night, by simply asking why would Severus not kiss Remus when it was clear he wanted to, and that had been that. As Hogwarts had started and Severus had to leave during the day, the time that the two adults could spend together was severely cut down and they were immensely grateful that Harry took it all in stride.

Harry sat down at the kitchen table, softly hissing to Ananta, and that was the most shocking development of all. Harry was comfortable enough to communicate now; granted, not in a language either of the adults could speak or even understand, and only ever in whispers, but he was willingly making noises. And that had felt like a victory when it had finally happened, so Severus would take hissing any day over the petrified silence of that first month Harry had spent with them.   

Harry still wouldn’t speak English, but Remus had started to teach the child and himself sign language, so they were not pushing it for now. Harry’s comfort and happiness took precedence over everything else, and Severus refused to force him to speak English, worried it would undo all the progress he had made. On top of that, Harry had not even realized he was not speaking English but Parseltongue at first, and it had taken quite a lot of explanations for him to truly get what the snake language was.

With Harry’s past, the fact that he spoke Parseltongue was not even registering as an issue. They were insanely lucky that the child only refused to talk in English, after all the trauma he went through. What if the child hissed? Remus and Severus concerned themselves with the consequences and of course would try to get him comfortable enough to speak English, but they would not demand that the 6-year-old stop talking to his snake, that was for sure. They had time. Remus kept reminding Severus that this - their family- was a forever thing, after all.  

Severus sat down next to Harry at the kitchen table and listened to his child telling him all about his day, lips unmoving but his excitation about some magical experiment that he and Remus had done showing in the way he was animatedly moving his hands. Remus, leaning against the table, was looking at them with a smile on his face and Severus wondered if one’s heart could implode from trying to contain too much love.

The rest of the evening was peaceful, up until Severus went to get Harry to bed. The child was restless, messing with his bedcovers and refusing to lie down. Severus frowned. Harry usually loved their night routine: Severus was the one to read him a story and kiss him goodnight, and Harry never complained.

Harry, what is going on? He asked, concerned.

Can you call Moony? Harry looked down at his hands, pulling at threads.

Severus complied, now truly worried. Harry had never been anxious about Remus leaving, and he could not help but wonder if his own doubts had made the child worry about Remus, too.

Remus barged into the room a few seconds later, at a speed not quite human and with panic in his eyes – Severus almost scoffed, he had made sure to call Remus calmly, but he understood his partner’s anxiety so he refrained. Remus relaxed slightly at seeing them unarmed and came to sit on Harry’s bed.

“Everything alright, love?” he asked, smiling warmly at the child.

Harry nodded and finally met Severus’ eyes.

I have something to tell you and Moony.

“The child wishes to tell us something, Remus," repeated Severus, truly confused.

Remus took Harry’s hand. “Really? What is it, pup?” The wolf was doing an admirable job of not sounding anxious, but Severus could tell he was internally panicking. Severus pushed his knees against the man’s thigh, silently reassuring him- and maybe himself too.

Severus waited for Harry to tell him, but nothing came through their connection. As he was about to ask, Harry looked at Remus and opened his mouth.

“Moony,” spoke Harry. And before Severus could react, their child looked at him and smiled, green eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room, the echo of his voice still ringing in Severus’ ears. “Severus.”

Notes:

I can't believe this is over? I'm happy and sad at the same time.
I started writing this fic while I was going through a bad breakup, and did not think I would write more than 10k or even post it. And here we are. A big thank you to every single one of you who read, left kudos and/or commented. I will be working on a sequel very soon, though I want to work on something with the Black Brothers first (possibly with background wolfstar/starchaser but mostly focusing on Regulus and Sirius) . If you're interested in any of that, you can subscribe to this series or to myself directly.
Thank you again and see you soon <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Amaranth Wards