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Chapter Text

Harry will be five by the end of the summer, though he only knows that because Duddley just turned six, and that means Duddley is going to move onto a new school next term, a school for big kids, and he will have a whole year without Duddley in the same class, God, the same school, than him. The year is going to be so peaceful. At least at school. At home, life would be more or less the same, he guessed. Life never changed at home.

With that thought in mind, he moves to continue the motions of every day, from washing dishes after breakfast and then swiping the floors and then getting clothes out of the washing mashine and putting on a new load. He does that every day, and if he does it right and fast, he gets to go outside in the garden and take care of the plants.

He likes taking care of the plants, because flowers make aunt Petunia happy, and she doesn't frown or scoul at him when he gives her flowers. She even keeps some! And sometimes, when his aunt is praised on her garden, she even smiles, and he knows it's because of him because he was the one to take care of the flowers she pride herself so much of. And this is some of those happy days. He got new flowers this year, and he's exited to see the summer flowers sprout. He planted lillies these year. They always make aunt Petunia cry a little, but she also always cut them and put them in water in every single room of the house. She never does that with other plants. And lillies are his favourite flowers anyway, even if he doesn't really know why.

And is while he is tending to his plants that he sees it. A cab stopping nextdoor, and a woman getting out of it. She takes stuff out of the back, some bags and boxes and a rolled up matress, and then she waves to the driver and the taxi is going away and she is alone with her things on the sidewalk, standing in front of a closed gate.

Harry knows he should be working, but he sits in there, hands full of dirt, and dirty knees and arms and face, and stares at that woman that for surre haven't seen him.

She has brown skin, only slighly darker than his, and beautiful curls, pulled up in a ponytail and tied with a flowery headband that does not fit the sport jacket she wears. And yet, that is the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen in his whole almost five years of age. And he thinks shes probably also the saddest, because she moves in a way like she has nothing left to lose.

And then, she looks around and sees him, and Harry gets confused because her whole face light up and she smiles the prettiest smile ever, and waves to him. He wonders if she is really smiling to him, and not someone else behind him, but when he looks around, he's the only one there, so he can't be mistaken. She is waving at him, so he waves back, and she seems happy and goes into her house, unlocking the door while she hold a huge box.

And he is left confused, because no one is happy to see him ever.

No one but this woman.

Aunt Petunia doesn't say anything bad about their new neighbor, and that's a first.

According to her, she is quiet, lonely, and does not bother anyone. She is fixing the messy lawn, and she never has anyone over, and she is rather boring, so aunt Petunia stop paying attention to her. Harry doesn't. He keeps seeing her every day in the summer, because she is out everyday, sometimes in high waisted short and colourful spagethi strap tops, sometimes in a flowy flowery dress, rather outdated, if his aunt had any say about it.

And everyday she works on her garden, and just like him, she plants flowers.

The woman next door plants lillies.

So, maybe he starts finishing his jobs faster just to work on the garden and see the woman, with her beautiful clothes and beautiful hair and beautiful flowers, that bloom beautifully, way better than his ever did. He wished he could ask her what's her secret, but he knows adults don't want him talking, or anywhere near them.

But sometimes, he can't help himslef, like on that day he was trimming the bushes near the fence and heard her talking to someone.

"Hi Lils.You're growing beautifully. Just like you always were. The prettiest flower anywhere you go."

"Who are you talking to?" He asked, looking over the fence from his little bench, and imeddiatley regreted, because he shouldn't talk to adults like that.

The woman however, looked up and smiled at him.

"Hi there" she sat on her heels "I'm talking to my plants. It helps them grow."

"It does?" he asked again, because she had anwered his first question with a smile.

"It does" and she got up and closer to the fence, and, while he retracted a little, she let herself lean over the wood. "I'm Mary, what's your name, lad?"

"Ha- Harry!" he said "... ma'am"

She smiled, like she was trying to supress a laugh, and Harry thought she was the strangest adult ever, because she was not doing what adults were suposed to do. Adults were supposed to ignore him, and maybe give them orders. Adults were supposed to be mad when he talked out of turn. But she just smiled and answered him like there was nothing more important in the world.

"No need to call me ma'am, Harry, I'm just Mary, anyway. No one very important."

"Oh... ok" She, Mary, was strange. He liked strange, because most people didn't and he knew what was like to not be very much liked "Why you were calling your plants Lils?"

"Oh, that's her name" she gently held a beautiful orange lilly. "Lilly. All the others are lillies, but this one, this one is Lilly. That over there is a wild rose, her name is Marlene. And all the wildflowers are called Dorcas. And that over there is wolfsbane, his name is Remus. This one over there, starting to go up the wall is a Hoya bella, his name's Sirius. And the tallest sunflower is James."

"You names all of your flowers?"

"Not all of them, just the ones that make me think of my friends."

"Oh..." so Mary had people who liked her. Maybe she was not as strange as he thought she was, and did not need him to like her.

"Do you wanna come and meet my flowers?"

His eyes shone. He had never been on someone elses garden, and she had the prettiest garden of all, full of colour and different plants. He nodded enthusiasticalty.

Mary bended over the fance and picked him up with ease. Harry got afraid for a second there, but then he was on her hip and he could smell her perfume and she was warm and Harry didn't remember the last time he had been held like this. She spent a full on hour carrying him around and showing him all of the flowers in her garden and talking about them as if they were both close friends and study objects. She knew all the names people called them, and a thing called scientific name, that scientists used, and even the names old witches in medieval times used to hide their recipes. She knew how they grew and what they needed to thrive, and what they helped, or not, with. He never thought plants could be more than pretty things growing in a garden.

And then, there was the tree in the back of her garden, an old tree aunt Petunia always said somebody should cut down, but that had, now, a rope swing and bird houses.

He had never been in a swing, he thought, but when Mary pushed him on it, the sensation of flying was both familiar and the best thing he had ever felt.

He didn't know adults could be like Mary, maybe she was, after all, an oddity like him.

Chapter Text

Every day, Harry woke up in his little cupboard under the stairs exited for the day ahead of him. It didn't use to be like that, but now he was five, and things had ganged greatly.

Because, after he finished working at home, he could go to the garden and meet Mary over the fence. Mary would talk to him about her flowers, and teach him how to tend to them better. On days aunt Petunia was out, she'd get into his garden and weed the flowerbeds with him, talking about a bunch of nothings about plants and animals, and sometimes telling him beautiful stories from the books she read as a child.

Harry loved the days he could be around Mary. She was a weird adult for sure, but a nice person.

There were not many of those around.

It was because of her that he started talking to his flowers, just like she did, and they did grow better, to his surprise. But not as good as Mary's did. Never as good as Mary's.

It was in the middle of July that she first invited him toher house, to come over for tea.

They had been working on the garden all afternoon under the shade of a red parasol, and they were both red from the heat and with hands dirty with dark soil. Mary had teached him about worms that day, about how they were not insects, but something else called annelid, because their body was full of rings, and he was getting ready to  back home, have mary pass him over the fence and head inside to washi himself, when she said something he never thought he would hear.

"Hey Harry, what do you think of having a cup of tea? Fancy one?"

"What?"

"Come inside, have a cup of tea, some bisquits, before you head home. We worked a lot today, we deserve the treat."

He had never been invited to anyone's house, expecially not an adult's house, and had never dunk tea with anyone.

Tea in the Dursley's house was reserved for the adults, and Duddley, though he did not like it. Harry was only allowed to drink mint tea, the cheap one, in his chipped mug, but it didn't matter to him. He loved mint tea. Harry doubted Mary would have his tea. She had fancy beautiful dresses, tea party dresses, so she must have had a load of fancy teas. Fancy teas that were not meant for him.

But if she was inviting him, she probably had some cheap ones she could spare, right?

"You're thinking a lot about a yes or no answer, Harry."

"Sorry. It's just, I've never been invited for tea before."

"Well, then I'll be honoured to host your very first tea."

"Honestly?"

"With all the honesty."

"Then I'll say yes."

And he let Mary pick him up and leave behind the parasol and the gardening suplies to go inside the house.

Harry had never been inside anyone's house but his own before, and he found Mary's home beautiful. The walls were full of collages of pictures and magazine pages torn appart, lined with framed drawings of flowers and vinil records. everything was mismatched and old, as if they had been collected across years. Everything had a story in Mary's house.

She opened a door and sat Harry on the bathroom counter.

"Wash your hands, buddy" she said, and while he did what mary told him to, she picked up a rag and started cleaning his face.

Nobody had ever taken care of him like that, and he liked the feeling.

Mary was really a strange person.

She picked him up again and sat him at a white wooden chair with chipped paint and a faded floral pattern on the seat, and disappeared into te kitchen. He wanted to help, just so she didn't think he was lazy and ungrateful, but he didn't know if his help would be apreciated. Sometimes, aunt Petunia didn't like him touching important stuff. Instead, he annalised the seams of the white fabric that covered the table, and the tall glass that held flowers over it.

It was a mismatched mix of lillies and wildflowers and roses and greenery. Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene. Mary's friends.

He wondered where they were. He had never seen anyone but himself and Mary on her garden, had never seen anyone be greeted by the door and welcomed inside. Where were those friends of her? Why did Mary sound so painfully lonely all the time, if she had friends she loved enough to name flowers after them?

They didn't seem like very good friends.

Mary came back, and he made his scoul dissapear. ahe put silverwear and porcelain plates in front of him and on the other side of the table, gave him a smile, and disapeared into the kitchen again.

The chipped plate was not given to him.

There was scones with butter, and bread with home-made strawberry jam, and blueberry muffins and lemon tea with honey. He had never eaten so much in his life, and he tried to take only a bite of each thing but everything was too good, and Mary didn't seem to be mad when he went for seconds. In fact she seemed happy.

"Mary... can I ask you a question?"

"Sure thing Harry."

"Why I've never seen your friends?"

"what?"

"I mean, I'm sorry, I don't want to pry, it's just, you named your flowers after friends that never come visit you?"

"Oh... yeah, that..."

"Aren't they good friends, Mary?"

For the first time, Mary's smile disappeared, and Harry feared he had said too much. She'd kick him out and never invite him in again, and it was all his fault. She breathed in, and he was sure she'd scream at him.

But then, she breathed out, and her smile came back, only it was sadder than anything he had ever seen.

"Most of them died... a couple years ago. It's not easy to talk about it."

"Oh... I'm very sorry, Mary... I shouldn't have asked." He felt bad now. He knew how dead people in your life left a missing piece in you. "You know, my parents died too. On a car accident, my aunt told me. Your flowers make me think of them..."

"Really?"

"Yeah... my mum was Lily like your friend, there's one picture of her at the house, hidden behind the others, she had red hair, the colour of your orange lilly."

"My friend had red hair too." Mary smiled "I'm very sorry your parents died Harry, you've got no idea how much."

"Why?"

"No kid should live without their parents."

And silence fell over them.

"Hey, Mary?"

"Hm?"

"Do you have a picture of your Lily?"

"I do"

And Mary got up, and went upstairs. Harry sat on the white chair and waited, patiently. It was very sad indeed, that they had both lost a Lily. Then she came back with a polaroid and showed him.

It was an old picture of Mary, when she was still a teen with her locks all wild and a red tie being used as a bow, while she hugged a girl next to her.

A girl with red hair and green eyes and freckles all over her body, wearing the same tie as a bow on her hair. A girl with a smile he recognized from the mirror, the one he made when he was very proud of himself. A girl with a face he recognized from his aunt's marriage picture.

"Mary!" He shouted, and looked tat her, surprised "Mary! That's my Lily!"

Chapter Text

Harry was five, and if one year ago people had said to him his life would be greatly changed by a woman in the house next to his, he'd never have believed. But there was him, staring at a picture of his young mother, before he was even a concept in her head, hugging a young Mary by the side.

"That's my Lilly" he repeated, going back to stare at the picture. "That's my mum."

"I know" Mary said, sweetly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I recognized her smile on you on the first time I saw it."

Harry looked at her with huge eyes, and held her hand into his tiny ones.

"You were friends with my mum? For real, real?

"For real Harry. We used to share a dorm at school and everything."

He stared at her with awe, mouth slightly open and unblinking eyes. It was almost too much to process. In a way, it was a proof his mother had been a real person, and not just an imagination of his fertile mind. She had been a real person with real friends. And one of those friends was right there, in front of him.

His mother's name was Lilly, and she was real.

Harry was almost too shocked to notice the girls in the picture started moving. Almost.

That night, when harry was laying in his bare mattress in the tiny cupboard under the stairs, he recalled everything that happened that day with a smile so bright it could almost light up the room. Magic. Magic was real, and his mum was real, and his mum was magic. The pictures at Mary's house, all those pictures of her and her friends, his mother's friends, they moved and danced and told him a story so different than his aunt and uncle had told him.

His mum had been an amazing person.

He had spent half an hour looking through pictures of Mary and his mother in an old album titled 1976, and he met, through pictures, his mother, with bright green eyes and bright red hair and constelations of freckles in her face. He met Marlene, with blond hair and dark red minidresses under black leather jackets and combat boots and a guitar, and Sirius with wild long waves (scandalous for a man, his aunt would say) and patched up jacket and drumset, and Dorcas, a beautiful black woman with puffy hair and colourful, soft summer dresses (that he was sure he had seen Mary using), and Reggie, a boy that looked like Sirius, only with shorter hair and a much more formal posture, and Remus with his old cardigans and sweaters and always a cigarrete in hands, and James, his father James, with his sporty jackets and round glasses.

There was some photographs scribbled over, covering the face of some other person, but Mary had said they were not important.

And those photographs moved around, waved at him, as if they could see him.

Magic was real.

He could never tell that to his aunt and uncle, but he now had a secret.

His neighbour, Mary, was Magic.

Mary was even stranger than Harry had antecipated. His aunt and uncle despised everything that was odd and different, and there was nothing further away from the norm than the very same Magic that ran in Mary's veins.

But his guardians didn't need to know his best friend was Magical.

Instead, he kept silently doing his chores, and taking care of the garden, and helping Mary with her flowers. Sometimes, she'd flick her hand and a tool would fly right into it, and she'd grab it as if it was second nature. Sometimes, she'd serve them tea, the plates floating around her as she carried them from the kitchen to the living room. Sometimes, they'd sit under the tree house and she'd show him pictures in other albuns, titled '71 to 77' and then there was that one album he really liked, that didn't have a title.

It held pictures from his parents marriage, hi mum's little belly bump already showing (You were right there, Harry, with her as she walked down the aisle), his father smiling brightly as he watched her walk to him. They dancing, and the cake fight, and their friends celebrating together. It had been a small cerimony, because the times were a bit hard (whatever that meant), but a very happy one.

It also held pictures of his birth, and god, had he been an ugly baby. Though he suposed all babies looked a bit like a baked potato.

There were pictures of him on his first halloween, on his first christmas, on his first easter, and in some other festivities that looked like celebrations too, though he wasn't sure what they were celebrating. The last pictures were of his first birthday, and everybody there had seemed so happy.

It made him ache, knowing that just some months later his parents would die in a car crash, and he'd be sent to live with his aunt and uncle.

It was not very fair, he wished he could live with Mary instead.

"Hey, hey, Bambi. you got me, alright? You don't need to live with me to have me. I'll be with you always, every step of the way. Or I'm not Mary MacDonald."

He laughed, and he hoped she was right.

Chapter Text

Harry turns six years old in August, and by that time, he already figured out he was Magical himself. He was not sure if his aunt and uncle knew, but when aunt Petunia had taken him to cut his hair before first grade started, made him almost bald except for his messy bangs, and then he had gotten up with his hair back as he liked it, he knew it was not normal.

When he told Mary this, she smiled as if she already knew.

Going to school was nice, and it was nicer to go to Mary's house once the day's house work was done and have her help him in his homework.

She teached him his letters, and he found himself proudly reading before Dudley, even if his cousin was one year older. That alone opened him a brilliant new place in his life: the school library, the only place Dudley would never be seen setting his foot on, and, therefore, the perfect safe place.

The librarian, an old woman called Mrs. Granger, had a granddaughter his age, who was also always in her school library (she always said how Harry and Hermione would make the best of friends, always so fond of books), and she talked so much about Hermione that Harry asked Mary to help him write a letter to this granddaughter of Mrs. Granger, and handed it to the librarian, asking her to please give the girl his letter the next time she saw her.

Two weeks later, he got handed a letter written in fancy, even if a bit messy, caligraphy, and after asking Mary to read it to him (it was written in cursive, he'd have to learn that if he wished to keep trading letters with Hermione), he wrote back, and soon enough, he had himself a pen pal.

They spoke about the books they were reading, and about the fantastical things they could both do if they wished for it hard enough, and he found very nice that he could teach Hermione, a very smart girl, about what Magic was. He even sent her a moving photograph Mary had taken of him climbing up her tree, and got a still picture of a grinning girl with bushy hair and skin as dark as his. He hid it under his pillow so Dudley wouldn't find it and accuse him of having a girlfriend, wich was gross, and beat him up because of that.

Hermione was his first friend his age, and he almost couldn't believe his luck.

A year ago he'd never have believed any of that.

Maybe Mary was a walking lucky charm.

But Mary's surprises were not done. One of the evenings they were working on the garten, the sun setting over the suburb houses of Privet Drive, a shadow came flying down at them in the dusk. A little brown owl landed in front of them, startling Harry before he realized that Mary seemed to know it.

She took something from the owl's back, and opened it. It was an envelope, and inside there was a short letter.

"What's it says?" He asked, while he tentatively petted the owl.

"Oh, just going to receive a visit of an old friend next week."

"Oh..."

Harry kind of forgot Mary probably had other friends beside him. All the ones she talked about had passed away, he kind of thought he was the only one she had now. It made him feel an ugly emotion, some kind of sadness and anger he couldn't really name. He thought it was unfair that he couldn't see Mary next week, if she'd have people over. It wasnt fair to him. Mary was his only friend (Hermione didn't count this time, she was cities away and they probably would never see each other ever). He didn't want to share.

"And she's gonna bring her daughter, she's about your age. I was wondering if you wouldn't like to spend the saturday with me, and have a playdate."

A what now?

Dudley sometimes had playdates. He would go to his friends house, or his friends would come over, and they'd spend the day playing videogame or watching TV or playing with Dudley's toys.

He didn't have toys, and he doubted Mary had any, so he couldn't think of a way for him to have a playdate. But the thought of meeting someone else was appealing. If she was an old friend of Mary, was she Magic too? Was her daughter Magic? He had so many questions, and all of them could be answered if only he accepted.

So, of course he said yes.

He was starting to get nervous. It was already almost three and he hadn't yet finished his jobs for the day.

He only had the sink left, though, so it should be fine. Even if he was supposed to be at Mary's house for lunch.

He was not just nervous because he was late though. He was also nervous because he would meet a new person. Two new people actually. What would they be like? Would they be nice like Mary? Or mean like his aunt and uncle? Would they like him? What would they talk about?

He finished drying the dishes, and started scrubbing the sink.

What would he even do with Mary's friend's daughter? He didn't have any toys to offer. Had she brought hers? Sometimes Dudley's friends bought their own toys.

He didn't have good clothes to use, so he was already sure he wouldn't cause the best impression. Girls always laughed at him in school. They were usually very mean. The exception was Hermione, but she had never seen him in person, so that did not count.

He finished the sink, and climbed down the chair he used to reach it.

There. Done. Now he could go to Mary's house.

He gave one look to the livingroom, where his uncle was watching the news. His aunt and cousin were out. Dudley had a birthdayparty to attend or something. Best for him.

He quietly opened the door in the kitchen that led to the backyard, and sneaked past it. Then, he walked to the hedge in between both houses and climbed it.

In the end, his hair was awfully messy, and he had small twigs and leaves all over, but he was in Mary's yard. He walked to her backdoor and let himslef in, patting his clothes to try and get more presentable.

Then he realized he probably didn't need to be so worried about the leaves in his hair.

On the other side of the livingroom, sitting on the floor crosslegged, was a girl in jeans overalls. They had grass and mud stains all over, and the pockets were full of wildflowers. She had flowers and strings woven into a pale-blond hair and she had the blues eyes Harry had ever seen, eyes who looked everywhere as if they were dazzled with amazement.

Laughing, and sitting in the floral chair just behind the girl, was a woman who was for sure her mother. She had the same bright blue eyes and while her hair was more of a dirty-blond, she still looked very much like the girl at her feet.

"Harry!" Mary smiled, tossed in the armchair in some baggy t-shirt and shorts. "Come meet Panda and Luna!"

He got a step closer, and then a bunch of steps, and then he was in front of the blond woman, who had gotten out of the chair and was crouched down to his height, her tie-dye blue dress flopping in the floor around her.

"Hello, Harry" She smiled. "I'm Pandora, you can call me Panda. And this," she indicated the girl with her head, "is my daughter, Luna."

The girl was not looking at them, seemingly distracted by the air.

"Luna, dear," said the woman, and gently touched her daughter's arm "your wrackspurts can wait, it is time to meet the new friend I told you about."

"But mama... aunt Mary's house has the biggest infestation I have ever seen." The girl, Luna, blinked slowly, as if she was only now focusing in her mother. And then she turned her head to Harry, turning it a little, like a confused dog. "Oh... Hello."

"Uh... Hi." He didn't know what to say under that gaze. It was cold, analytical, and piercing. Those eyes were somthing else. Icy blue, almost electrical. He felt himself staring, unable to look anywhere else. When the silence around him became unbearable, he broke it with the first thing that came to mind. "What... what were you looking at?"

"Oh." She smiled. "Wrackspurts. They're invisible. For most people. I can see them. Mama says I got bessed with something... what was it again, mama?"

"Clairvoyance, monshine." Pandora smiled at her daughter, and then at Harry. "Luna can see things most people cannot. Is part of her magic."

"That's... That's so cool!"

"You think?" Luna asked. "Most people think I'm crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy. Your mother said, it's your magic!"

Luna smiled, and took his hand in between hers.

And, Harry thought, that smile was the prettiest he had ever seen.

Luna was five, and liked to play potions.

She kidnapped Harry to the garten and teached him how to play. They mixed flowers and grass and mud and water in a plastic bowl, making up the names of the ingredients as they went. They mixed bits of Unicorn Mane (grass), Orc Puke (mud) and a single flower from the super rare Rainbow Lotus (it some petals Harry had took from Dorcas, the wildflowers), to make a potion that would make adults obey every single wish they had, and gave it to Pandora and Mary.

Harry was pretty sure they'd tell them to keep the play to themselves and let the adults talk, like he had seen his aunt do countless times, but Pandora and Mary pretended to drink the potions, and then dramatically obeyed every order Luna gave them, from levitating them in the air, to dancing with them around the room, to giving them cookies. Harry found himself laughing, and he kinda wished the potion was true, so he could give it to his aunt and uncle.

Then, they washed themselves, and helped Mary make pancakes for tea (and they made a mess that was bound to get them a beating, only it didn't).

They ate the pancakes, and drank tea, and then he and Luna went outside again. She showed him her pet frog (who had been sleeping in the front pocket of her overalls that whole time, and Harry helped Luna climb the tree in Mary's garten. Then, he introduced to her all Mary's flowers, and their names, and then Luna wanted to play Fairy Queen, and Harry found out it was very hard to say no to her.

Luna was soft and innocent everywhere he wasn't, but she was also very smart.

Laying in the grass with her, both looking at the clouds and tryign to make out shapes, he realized he had made a friend, and that he hadn't need to be so nervous after all.

Chapter Text

During the year that followed, Harry had plenty of playdates with Luna. Maybe once a month, Pandora would pop into Mary's house, let her five year old daughter there to play with Harry, and either dissapeared into thin air or stuck around or a couple hours to chat with Mary.

Harry learned a lot in that year, about many things. On how to be a child, how to play and get dirty and be loved.

Life at the Dursley's was a mess, with more responsabilities than ever, but he had Mary, and Luna, and Hermione, and it was not perfect, but Harry couldn't think of a time where he had been happier.

That is, until that winter where his aunt decided Dudley's Christmas present would be a trip to Disneyland, because he had been an extra good boy that year (a thing that Harry really doubted, considering the ammount of times he had been beaten up).

"But where would we leave the boy?" Asked uncle Vernon, as if Harry was not right there in the kitchen with them, when aunt Petunia gave the suggestion. "We can't just leave him alone with the house! He'd burn it down!"

Harry wanted to argue that even with his Magic, he couldn't make fire. Not the way he had seen Mary do to light the campfire in the garden, and definetly not in a pyromaniac way that would turn the house to ashes. But, at seven years old, he had learned to keep his little mouth shut about anything Magical.

"We could leave him with that miss Figgs. She always insists in talking to him when she passes our house, she certainly wouldnt mind taking care of him for a few days."

"That's an odd type, that woman. Certainly wouldn't mind keeping an eye on the little menace." said uncle Vernon, quietly to himsself, his word sticking to his mustache.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when an idea popped up in his brain. A genious idea.

"You could leave me with miss Mary." He piped in.

His aunt and uncle turned their faces at him, angry to be heard and interrupted.

"Who let you talk, boy?!" Shouted uncle Vernon.

"Don't be stupid," his aunt spat out, "She wouldn't want to take care of a boy like you."

"She's always talking to Harry over the hedge", said Dudley, and for once in his life Harry was thankful for something his cousin had said. "And she's weird, I heard she talking to her flowers like they are alive!"

Harry held out his tongue to say that plants were indeed alive, and quietly waited for his aunt and uncle to think over what his cousin had said.

"Is that true, boy?" Uncle Vernon spat.

"Yes, sir" Harry was quick to answer. "She teached me how to take care of the lillies."

That was the wrong thing to say, because his aunt made a face, going red, and his uncle frowned, and he was out of their sight and into the cupboard before they could say a word.

In the end, he stayed with Mary. Which he was more than thankful for.

She received him in her house with a polite smile, that turned bright as soon as the door closed, and she hugged him tight.

"We'll have the best Christmas of our lifes, Bambi!" She said, propping him on her hip as if he was a toddler still, despite the boy being already seven.

She carried him and his little backpack of clothes to her room, and tossed him on the bed. He laughed as she threw a pillow on him, and laughed more as he threw it back at her.

Mary let him help her set up the Christmas decorations, in tones of red and gold, and they baked ginerbread cookies, and she let him stay up late watching silly christmas movies with her. ANd then, when he was almost falling asleep, she carried him to her bed, and cuddled with him to sleep.

A mother's love, harry though, probably felt like that.

He had never felt happier.

On Christmas eve, Harry woke up late. Looking at the clock by Mary's bed, it was already past ten. He had never been alowed to sleep as much in the Dursley's house, and he basked in the glorious feeling of the soft bed beneath him, the warm blankets drowning his body, and the fluffy pillow under his head.

Then, he heard noises from the kitchen, and he slowly stretched out to go investigate.

He slid out of the bed and walked slowly to the first floor. His little feet were bare against the cold floor, and Mary's T-shirt, an old one that had his last name and a number on the back (it had been his father's team shirt), fell to his knees. He made his way down the stairs, stopping at the last step to eavesdrop the conversation.

"It's been a while" Some voice said. A man's voice, though it didn't sound angry like uncle's Vernon. It sounded tired, almost pained. "Why you decided to call now, of all times?"

"I have been trying to gather up courage for a while" Mary's voice said. "I figured, now would be maybe the last chance i got."

Silence. Harry didn't understand why Mary's voice sounded so pained. Almost like it used to sound back when he first met her. She had grown happier with times, but now she was sounding all sad and tired again.

"You look well. Big house, nice neigbourhood."

"You look like shit."

Harry almost snorted. That was the Mary he knew. The man didn't seem to think it was so funny.

"Not all of us cope that well with loosing everything."

"Don't come telling me about coping. I almost lost myself, Remus." Harry didn't like to hear Mary like that. He moved to the kitchen to give her a hug, but stopped himself at the arch. Maybe Mary wouldn't like to be interrupted. He watched she take a deep breath. "But I didn't call you here so we could start screaming at each other about who suffered more. I called you here because we need to be together. We were family, Remus. And there's someone who needs us."

The man looked awful. He was dressed in a tattered brown grandpa sweater and smelled so strongly of smoke that Harry could feel from outside of the kitchen. He had scars all over his face and hands, and deep eyebags that looked like they hadn't seen sleep in an ungodly ammount of time.

"Who?" The man, Remus, asked, confused.

"Mary?" He heard his own voice leave his mouth completely unprompted, and saw two heads turning to him. Mary's eyes turned soft as she looked at him, but the man's gaze was full of an incomprehensible emotion. It was shock, mixed with something else. Anger, dismay, hurt, and mourning.

"McDonald." He said. "What is this? What kind of joke is this."

"That's no joke, Remus." Mary smiled, and motioned for Harry to move closer so she could rest a hand on his back. She crouched to Harry's height and looked up to Remus. "Meet Harry. Harry, this is Remus, one of my, and your parent's, best friends."

Chapter Text

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir" Harry said, polite as ever, as his aunt and uncle liked he was, so no one would notice how much of a freak he was. He knew he didn't need to be this polite around Mary, but the man looked somewhat between livid and like he had seen a ghost.

Water filled Remus eyes, and he dropped to his knees.

That must have hurt, Harry thought, but Remus didn't even flinch.

"Harry?" He called, his voice weak. "Is... is that really you?"

Harry got pulled closer in the arms of that man, and polietely let him cradle his face with scarred hands. Remus analysed him as if it was something crucial, and frowned at the thin scars of uncle Vernon's belt in his legs and at the light brown bruises around his wrists and arms. He brushed Harry's hair with his long, slender fingers, and cupped his cheeks once again.

"I can't believe it" He said. "It's you. God, you look so much like them. But, Merlin, what have they done to you." And there was an underlying rage at this last sentence, that Harry did not properly understand.

"Who's them?" Harry asked, and he had to force himself not to dry a tear that was threatening to fall from Remus eyes.

"Your parents. You look so much like your parents."

No one had ever said he looked like his parents. There were no pictures of them in the Dursley's house, just one of his mother on aunt Petunia's wedding, and he didn't think he looked like her at all. He could see, however, how the man could think he looked like his dad. They had the same unruly hair and light brown skin.

Harry felt himself be pulled into a hug by that strange man, and slowly breathed the smell of smoke and ash. It made his nose itch, but he didn't complain. He knew how to be polite. He could do it.

Remus suddently stiffened, and pulled back. He had a haunted look on his face.

"I- I am sorry. You don't even know me, I'm sorry."

"It's ok, sir."

For some reason, that brought tears to Remus' eyes. He let go of Harry and hugged his legs, hiding his face on his knees. Soft sobs began erupting from the man, and Harry found himself feeling immensely guilty for some reason. He didn't know what he had done wrong, but it had upset Remus deeply, in a way he had never seen an adult upset.

When his uncle Vernon got upset, his face grew red and he started to bark orders in an agressive manner. When his aunt got upset, her voice became a high pitched squeal, and her pale face became almost purple.

But Remus?

Remus curled up in himself and weeped.

He had never seen a grown man cry. Even Dudley was starting to trade his crying by screaming fits and crocodile tears. But Remus cried, unashamedly, on Mary's floor.

Mary scooped him up and carried Harry out of the kitchen, leaving Remus behind. Still looking at the man from behind her shoulder, Harry felt lost. What had he done wrong?

"It's ok, Bambi, you did nothing wrong. I knew this would be difficult for him."

"What's difficult?"

"Meeting you. After so long."

"We met before?"

"When you were a baby. He was close to you in a way i'd never dreamed i'd be. And now you don't remember him. It hurts his heart. I imagine it's also very schoking to see you after so long. See you alive. See you hurt. There must be quite a lot going on in his brain. A lot of things he doesnt understand yet."

"He'll be fine?"

"He'll come around."

"Can... can I help? Somehow?"

Mary smiled, and adjusted him on her waist.

"Just be yourself, Bambi. That's all he needs of you."

Mickey's Christmas Carol played on TV while Harry worked on something on the coffee table. Back at his house, he only had Dudley's old crayons to draw with, and they were supposed to be school suplies, so he couldn't just draw whenever he wanted, but Mary had bought him a huge box of crayons a while ago that they used to draw together when he came over. And not any crayon, no. The facy, oil ones. Mary spoiled him sometimes.

But he deserved to be spoiled, she said. He deserved good things. And she could give him good things.

And, right in that moment, he was puting those good things to good use. Harry was a boy with a mission. A secret mission.

He was all too aware that Remus was on the sofa behind him, silently observing. He could feeel those eyes burying themselves deep on his back, almost as if the man was trying to stare right into his soul. It made him a little bit uncomfortable, to be so out in the open, under such a dedicated gaze, but he had gotten used to Mary looking at him, so he could get used to Remus looking at him as well. They weren't like his aunt and uncle, that would rather Harry would not be heard or seen. Or at least they had done nothing to show they were.

So Harry continued his task dutifully, ignoring the heavy silence and the man.

Dots had started to connect in Harry's little head. Mary had a flower named Remus. And the Remus in the school pictures he liked to see was full of scars and always carried a cigarrete. This Remus, sitting behind him, was older, and had more scars then the one at the pictures, but he wore the same sweaters and smelt like cigarretes too, so Harry figured they were the same person. Wich meant he had gone to school with his parents and Mary.

"How'd you met my parents?" He asked, his voice a shaky offer of amicable conversation.

Remus sighed, and didnt say nothing. Harry mentally scolded himself. Right. Remus was probably still upset at him, even though the man had stopped crying. He was probably upset with Mary too, because she had kicked him out of the kitchen. But he hadnt left yet, so maybe he was not that upset, and just wanted to be left alone.

"I thought your dad was too good for me when we first met." Remus answered. "I was pretty sure he'd throw me out of the cabin when i asked them if i could sit there cause all the train was full. He had nice clothes, seemed expensive. And he was with his friends. And I was just a farm boy. That impression survived for about... thirty seconds. And then I found out he was a dork. He smiled all big and shoved Marlene out of the way so i could sit next to him."

He had started to speak with the weigh of tears still in his voice, but now Harry could hear a smile. He gently rested his current crayon on the table and turned around to look at Remus. His eyes glistened, like they were wet, but no tear fell.

"He was so nice. I was a bit awkward, i didn't have much friends in elementary school, so i didn't know how to talk to him, but James made it so easy. It seemed like he knew what he had to ask to make me speak. And it seemed like he wanted to hear me. All of them. Marlene and..." he took a long pause, as if weighing down his words "and Peter."

"Who's Peter?"

Harry had never heard of a Peter before. Mary didn't have a Peter flower, or Peter photographs.

"He... was a childhood friend of your father. They grew up together. Marlene too."

Harry wanted to press more, know more about his dad's childhood friends, but Remus voice sounded pained, as if it took a lot of him to speak about that. Sometimes, some days, Mary was like that too. He couldn't really understand, but he imagined, it must be hard to talk about people that passed, once you're old enough to remember them.

He had lost his paren't before he could remember them, so he didn't exaclty know what to feel about it, but Mary and Remus had lost friends who they did remember. So maybe they were just still grieving.

He went back to his drawing, the Disney movie still playing in the background.

Dinner was nice. Mary had made carrot soup, with a white sour cream thing, and he quite liked it. Maybe he could ask for the recipe and try it at home. He had heard the Dursley's talking something about how he should make himself useful and learn to cook soon.

He liked cooking with Mary, so maybe he'd like cooking on his own too.

Remus stayed for dinner, too, and while it was silent and a bit awkward, Harry still felt more at home than he ever felt back with his aunt and uncle.

For starters, he was at the table at the same time that the adults were, and he was eating with them, the same food they ate. Pretty nice in his opinion. Usually only Dudley was allowed to sit with the adults at the table, and he had to wait after everyone was done to eat the leftovers.

And if he disregarded the apearances, he could almost pretend the woman at the table was a mum, the man was a dad, and he, the little boy, was their son.

A little, happy family, eating dinner all together. A dream coming true.

"I called Panda and Xeno for Christmas tomorrow." Said Mary. Harry's eyes sparkled at the same time Remus shrunk on his chair.

Harry didn't know who Xeno was, but Panda meant Luna, and Harry was super exited to see her again. Maybe they could play in the snow, making snow angels and a snowman and having a snowbal fight. Luna wouldbrobably be really good at decorating a snowman. And she'd be a beautiful snow angel.

"I'll be going then" said Remus, and moved to get up from his chair, but one look from Mary made him sit again. "Mary, please."

"You can't hide from our old friends forever, Remus. Appart from me, she's the only one who's left."

"I shouldn't have come here."

"What are you afraid of, Rem? It's just Pandora and Xenophilius."

"It's just- I don't know, Mary, I- I can't do it, ok? I-"

"Rem," she shook her head, the words seemingly escaping her. Harry looked from one adult to the other. Remus looked like a cornered animal. "You can't isolate yourself from your family. I know it's small, and broken, and that it hurts seeing it incomplete, but we need to be together." Her voice sounded desperate, almost teary. "I isolated myself too, for way too long. And that destroyed me! Rem, I can't loose you again. Any of you. Please, let's be a family again."

"It's gonna be awkward."

"Then let it be. As long as we're together."

"I don't even got presents- I don't even got money for presents."

"We don't need presents, Rem. We need you. Cause we need you. I need you. Harry needs you."

"Harry doesnt even know who I am."

And there it was, adults talking about him as if he wasnt in the room. Left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Then stay. Make him know you. How can he know who you are if you hide from him?"

"I wasn't hiding from him, I didn't even know where he was!"

"I know! Neither did I! I searched for him! Did you?"

"Dumbledore said-"

"Fuck Dumbledore! Look at Harry! You think he's happy- with his aunt and uncle? You think he's safe? Dumbledore is a fucking liar, always has been. I'm done trusting him!"

"You think what, he'd be better off with us? With me? I could kill him! Or worse!"

"He would be better. Cause at least he'd be loved."

"Fuck Mary, you know nothing! You waltz your way into my life again and now you think you can just go fixing everything?"

"You know nothing! I almost died Remus!I had nothign left to live for. So I know, what it's like to just think you should end it all. But you know what? I found out I did have someone who still needed me. I found out there was a little boy, who I loved with all my heart since the moment he was conceived, and that I know you love too, that was left to rot with relatives who don't even care to feed him, much less care for him. And he was left by the same man I trusted with my life back in the war."

Harry was scared from all the shouting, and he slowly slid down his chair and under the table. What was Mary even talking about?

"So forgive me, Remus, if i have not a single ounce of faith left for that man. What I have faith on is that I love Harry, and that you love Harry, and that this makes us family. And I won't abandon family on the hands of a man playing god a second time."

"He knows better Mary, what he'd do, leave Harry with a monster."

"Why do you think you're such a curse, for God's sake! Your Harry's godfather, act like it!"

"I am a curse!"

"You're not! You've proven over and over again how much of a dedicated friend you are. How much you are willing to give."

"And yet James and Lilly still-" he froze. "Harry"

The adults suddently fell quiet. Quiet enough to hear the soft sobs coming from under the table.

In a second, Mary was kneeling down the table to find a curled up boy in there. Remus was just behind her, crawling his way to the boy's side.

"Hey, hey Harry" Mary spoke in a soft voice, pulling him close and into her lap.

"It's over" said Remus, sitting by their side, all curled up to fit his tall frame under the wooden tabletop. "We're not fighting anymore."

"I'm so sorry, Harry" said Mary "I'm so sorry. It's ok, everything's ok."

"I'm sorry" muttered Remus. "i shoudn't have screamed."

"It's alright" Mary said, rubbing the boy's back, but looking straight at Remus. "Sometimes, sometimes grownups have big emotions, and they fight, but it doesnt mean they hate eachoter, or that they're mad at eachoter, or at you, Harry. Sometimes things are just too hard to handle. But every'thing's alright."

Harry gripped her shirt tight, and hid his face on her chest.

"And sometimes, Harry" Remus' voice was as soft was Mary's but lower. It sounded like the crackling of the fire. "Sometimes, adults are afraid of things. And when they are afraid, they get mean and push other people they love away. But it's not your fault."

Harry turnd his face to look at remus with those big, shiny green eyes.

"You know, I didn't know you were here when Mary called me. Seeing you made me afraid. Afraid you wouldn't remember me. Even though I knew you wouldn't because we hadnt seen each other in a long, long time. But then seeing you, tiny and with those bruises and scars, it made me angry. Not at you. But at me. Because I wasn't here to protect you. And I should have been. And it made me angry at someone elese too, because he promissed me you'd be safe. Safer than you could ever be with me. And I believed him. But even in this safer place they hurt you. And it made me angry, because I'd never hurt you on purpose, and yet I can't take care of you because the possibility that I might hurt you on accident freaks me out."

"is it true? What Mary said?"

"What part?"

"That you love me."

"More than anything in this life Harry."

He didn't say anything, but wiggled his way out of Mary's lap and into Remus' and there he stayed, in silence, until he passed out from exhaustion.