Work Text:
“Harry! Sirius!”
“We’re up here!” Came the distant reply. Remus groaned, it sounded like they were right at the top of the house. He stood from the comfortable armchair he’d been working from and set his stack of manuscripts to the side, picking up the pile of letters Hedwig had dropped in his lap. His editing work could wait.
He started up the stairs, following the smell of paint to the fourth floor. Sirius stuck his head out of the office doorway, his hair tied back in a messy bun with sage green paint splattered all over his skin.
“Moony my love,” Sirius said, ignoring the fake retching sound Harry made from inside the room, “your office isn’t ready yet.”
“Not what I’m here for.” He waved the pile of letters in his hand, “post arrived.”
At that, Harry shot out of the room and would have barrelled straight into Remus had Sirius not caught him by the back of his t-shirt.
“What we’re not going to do is get paint all over Moony’s new jumper, Prongs Jr. You know I only just persuaded him to let me replace the old one.”
“Shut up, both of you.” Remus interrupted Harry before he could snark back, “you have a letter from Hermione, Harry.” He passed it out, “Siri, there’s one for you from that ring designer I very clearly told you was too expensive...and looks like Dumbledore sent one addressed to us both. Oh, and before I forget - this is for you two.”
Remus smirked as he passed the note to Harry, who read it aloud.
“Dear Sirius and Harry,
I found your notes about taking the flying bike for a trip. In future, please hide these notes better. When the aurors are inevitably called I want the option to plead ignorance.
With worry about your sanity,
Remus”
“Rude,” Sirius muttered and tried to surreptitiously high five Harry. “You’re not cool enough for the bike anyway.”
“That’s not what you said in ‘78,” Remus sniggered under his breath, but Harry still heard.
“Please don’t ruin the cool flying motorbike for me. Please.”
“Your godfather was very sexy,” Sirius fisted his paint covered hands in Remus’ jumper and pulled him down for a kiss, blatantly ignoring his own ‘don’t touch’ rule. Remus couldn’t care less about the jumper. They usually weren’t so handsy, especially in front of Harry, but with the wedding planning in full swing they’d both been caught up in the romance of it all.
“Was?”
A balled up piece of paper hit him in the forehead repeatedly until Remus laughed and straightened back up. Admittedly, the charm Harry had used to turn the note into a bouncing paper heart was pretty impressive. Harry was looking at them crossly, but his lips were quirked up in a small smile. He’d told Remus the other evening when the two of them were making dinner that it was nice to be around a couple that actually loved each other. The Dursleys hadn’t even provided him with that.
“Are you two sure you can wait until December for the wedding? I bet I’ll get a letter at school saying you eloped.”
“Maybe that would be for the best,” Sirius reached up and looped his arms around Remus’ neck.
“Mmm,” Remus kissed Sirius once, twice. “At least then we wouldn’t have to deal with this attitude on the day.”
“Oh and Hermione’s coming round today, that’s what her letter was about. Her parents are coming too.”
“What!”
“Shit...we have so much to clean up. You think Kreacher will help?”
“Not a chance in hell, Sirius. Now go shower then meet me downstairs.”
--
“Oh, this must be it!” Hermione had her face pressed against the car window as her dad turned them into Grimmauld Place. It had the run down yet regal air Harry had described, and she spotted the now shining number twelve on one of the doors easily.
As soon as the car was parked she was out of her seat and dragging her mother to the door.
“Calm down, little witch.” She said, not at all understanding that crossing the threshold of Harry’s house meant crossing into the land of actually being able to practice her spell work.
Hermione grabbed the knocker on the door eagerly when she was within reach but immediately tried to retract her hand with a grimace when the serpent came to life and tried to crush her hand.
“Oh, sorry I should have warned you about the snake.”
She snapped her head up and an easy smile came to her face at the sight of Harry, messy haired and rough around the edges like he always was. Although the muggle clothes that actually fitted him were an improvement. She hugged him tightly for a second before running into the house.
“Professor Lupin!” She nearly bumped into him as he walked out of the living room.
“Hermione, nice to see you. And you must be Mr and Mrs Granger, please do come in.”
Hermione looked back at her parents bashfully, she’d forgotten to introduce them in her rush to get in. They didn’t look too put out though, too busy looking around at everything in curiosity.
“Harry’s godfather will be down in a moment, he’s just cleaning up. Can I offer you tea? Coffee?”
“C’mon,” Harry said quietly, “let’s escape before they start the boring small talk.”
He held a finger to his lips as they crept away from the hallway and ran up the stairs, passing blank walls which looked like they’d had photos recently ripped from them, judging by the pale rectangles of unblemished wallpaper. But before she could ask, Harry was pausing on the landing and gesturing at the rooms in front of them.
“So that’s my room - the big one there - and Sirius and Remus have the room across the hall,” he gestured to a door on the other side of the large landing. “There’s two guest bedrooms next to mine which are for you and Ron. Claim whichever one you want.”
Hermione peered into both rooms. They were both larger than they ought to be judging by the look of the house on the outside, and they had big, bay windows that overlooked perpetually sunny gardens. There wasn’t much that set them apart, except that one of them had a huge bookcase nestled against the far wall. Hermione put her things on the bed of that room and walked towards it, her sharp eyes looking over every book cover she could find.
“Brilliant,” she breathed as she took down a copy of ‘Anna Karenina’, “is this a first edition?”
“I was wondering how long it would take you to find that,” Sirius’ deep voice made her jump, and Hermione clutched the book closer to her chest on instinct. “He was a wizard, you know. Tolstoy. Legend has it he’s my great-great-great uncle. That copy of Anna was his wedding present to his brother-in-law, Antares Black.”
“You’re Russian?” Harry looked at Sirius with interest, “I didn’t know that.”
“Da. There’s still a lot of the Black family over there.”
“How did you not know that about your own family, Harry? It’s all in ‘ A Guide to Pureblood Wizarding Families ’ you know.” She’d brushed up on her own knowledge of pureblood culture in second year. After those messages on the walls threatening muggleborns...she’d needed to know everything she could. Harry was protected by his fame, and Ron’s family were purebloods even if they weren’t loyal to blood purity, but Hermione didn’t have anything to fall back on. If Voldemort was really back, well. She wanted as much insider information as she could get - what better way to take a system down?
“Oh, erm. I’ve not read that.” Harry fiddled with his glasses and looked away. It took a minute for her to think about what she’d just said. Harry had never had the chance to know his family until now. No wonder he didn’t want to read it all from a book. Hermione cringed and racked her brain for something that might make Harry feel better.
“Apparently the Malfoys moved from France to England when one of them married a Weasley, can you believe it! I can lend you the book if you want? It’s full of scandals.”
That got Harry’s attention. He laughed, loud and free, and she joined in, relieved to have glossed over her moment of insensitivity.
“And your grandparents came from India, Harry.” Sirius said with a smile, “Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. They were my real family, you know. They came to England when Monty’s Sleakeazy’s potions took off like mad. Settled down in Windsor, bought the Potter Estate, and had James ten years later.”
“There’s a Potter Estate?”
Hermione smiled, turning back to the book in her hands. Harry had family in her and Ron and the Weasleys, but it was extra nice to see him with Sirius and Professor Lupin now. She and Ron used to worry about Harry all summer long before - Hermione remembered her mum and dad calling the Dursleys to try and arrange a visit but getting hung up on every time they tried - but now they didn’t have to worry.
Harry had people who knew his parents, who could tell him stories of his relatives just like Hermione remembered her parents doing for her - stories of childhoods spent in Nigeria, and what it had been like to see London for the first time; stories about coming to England for university and meeting each other and falling in love; stories about their sunshine being bought into the world in the form of a little girl. Those were memories Hermione treasured and a few moments of many that she thought back on every time she felt homesick at Hogwarts, and she was happy to let Harry have the moment to build those memories himself. She was content to open the book in front of her and read.
Only problem was, it was in Russian.
--
Ronke was expecting Harry Potter’s house to be something like the Burrow - obviously magical even from the outside with its uneven architecture and alien looking plants. But the house Hermione directed them to looked anything but. It was a normal looking townhouse, albeit rather more run-down than usual, with an air of money about it despite the cracks marring its facade.
As they crossed the threshold, however, Ronke felt the tell-tale sign of magic. It was like goosebumps crawling up her skin, setting off a subtle reaction that screamed ‘ you don’t belong here.’ It was the same feeling she had when they’d visited Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic, and even the Burrow. She knew her husband, Theodore, had the same feeling, but when they’d mentioned it to Hermione she’d shaken her head and bitten her lip, obviously sad that they couldn’t experience magic the way she could. Hermione, by her account, said walking into a place filled with magic felt like breathing fresh air after being deprived of oxygen for too long, like the feeling of getting her braces off after they’d been on all summer.
The subtle feeling of wrongness crept over her skin as she’d expected as Remus ushered them into the living room, although this time it was different. As soon as the goosebumps appeared, they faded, and a warm breeze passed over her skin instead. She shivered and looked around the house.
“Is everything okay?” Remus was watching her closely, “we had a hell of a time taking down the anti-muggle wards. Sirius’ family weren’t what you’d call welcoming. It took an hour of work for me to even be allowed across the threshold, way back when.”
“Yes, yes, everything’s okay.” She shivered again, “I felt the bad magic, but it went more quickly than it has anywhere else.”
Theo nodded his agreement and put his hand on the small of her back, a comforting weight. Neither of them liked the uncertainty of magic nor their ignorance of their daughter’s world.
“We’ll keep working on them, see if we can’t get the magic to feel like happiness for you as well.”
Ronke didn’t know what to make of the man in front of her. Hermione had sung Professor Lupin’s praises in her weekly letters home while he was her teacher, and the sections of her letters that Ronke knew were written by someone else (but that she let slide because they always included the interesting gossip Hermione would never pick up on) had mirrored those praises, but added in phrases like mysterious scars, cute accent, adorable wavy hair. It wasn’t until later in the year that Hermione had written to them about werewolves. That letter was one Ronke had now read over multiple times. It was structured and clear, and had whole sections about how painful the transformation was, and how wolfsbane, which Hermione knew her teacher had been taking, made them tame and no more dangerous to be around than a normal dog. It had done little to assuage her fears.
And then, when Hermione had written that letter in March about Harry’s godfather being tried in court and would she and papa come to support her, Ronke realised that she’d finally be able to meet the man and judge him for herself. She had expected to fear him or to at least be discomforted in his presence. But Remus Lupin had surprised her in every way. He’d been so anxious. So full of love for his family. So...human.
“I wanted to thank you,” Remus spoke before Ronke could. His voice was soft and not very deep, and he had a slight Welsh accent. “For your support during the trial. Really, I can’t thank you enough. Hermione is an extraordinary witch, and I can see where she gets that from.”
“You’re welcome,” Ronke said. She didn’t feel bad that the only reason they’d gone was for Hermione, and not for him.
They settled into the boring kind of small talk Ronke made with her patients. She didn’t care about Remus Lupin’s opinion on the weather, or if the coffee he’d got them was okay, she didn’t even care about his curiously well-thought out opinions on their political climate. She wanted to know more about the world he shared with her daughter and she wanted an adult’s perspective on things. Hermione had inherited her insatiable curiosity and Theo’s love of books, but she often forgot to look at things around her.
Remus started to look fidgety once they’d finished their coffees, and was looking at the door every few minutes, his body language practically screaming that he wanted his partner with him.
“I’ll just go fetch Sirius,” he finally stood up to go, “excuse me.”
Perfect. As soon as he’d left the room Ronke stood up too.
“Ronke, please don’t do what I think you’re going to do.”
“Ah, don’t pretend like you’re not curious too,” Ronke said, already flicking through the piles of papers that had been left on the table to her right.
“Of course I am, but I have some sense of decorum.”
“Please,” she snorted, “you’ll want the details later. You stay - I’ll go look around.”
She ignored his token protests and crept out of the door. The kitchen was to her left, a long spacious room which had a family sized dining table at one end and gleaming marble surfaces around the sides. There were no appliances in sight - no fridge, no freezer, no washing machine or dishwasher. At least there was a cooker and an oven - she thought Hermione might have mentioned if wizards only ate things cooked in cauldrons.
She glanced around the room and couldn’t help but notice the subtle richness of everything. Nothing was gaudy or ostentatious but it all seemed hand-crafted and meticulously made. The only exception to this rule were the little pieces of parchment that decorated one of the cupboards. As she walked closer she realised they were letters, written by the three men in the house, and Ronke read them without hesitation.
‘Love of my life,
If you ever trick me into seeing a therapist by telling me they’re a career counsellor again I will end you.
With love,
Remus
Ps: Thank you. It helped.
PPS: And thank you for the huge stack of chocolate on my pillow.
PPPS: love you’
She smiled and leant forward to read the next note, this one in scratchy handwriting that had to belong to Harry.
‘Dear Sirius and Remus,
Thank you.
Harry
PS: I stress ate half of your apology chocolate Moony. Sorry. Love you?
PPS: my new therapist said getting a non-lethal pet would help me’
Non-lethal pet? Ronke didn’t want to think too closely about that one. As long as she didn’t run into a rabid beast she didn’t care what they had hiding in this house.
‘Dear Harry,
No she didn’t.
But nice try.
Sirius
PS: That got blamed on me! You’re on Buckbeak cleaning duty all week.’
Sirius’ letters were easily distinguishable from the others. His letters were written in glossy pink ink and his handwriting looked like calligraphy. His family definitely came from old money. She read on, smiling at the back-and-forth.
‘Dear Sirius,
I’m staying at the Burrow for a week.
Harry’
--
‘Dear Harry,
I’ve disconnected the floo.
Sirius’
--
‘Dear Sirius,
I stole a flying car and drove it from Kings Cross to Scotland when I was twelve. You think I don’t know where you keep the flying motorbike?
Harry’
Ronke remembered Hermione’s letters about that particular incident. The thought of two twelve year old boys flying a car still gave her nightmares. Once again, she was glad that Hermione didn’t get caught up in their nonsense.
‘Dear Harry,
Sounds fun. Can I come?
Sirius’
She laughed, charmed by the story the little notes told. Maybe this family wasn't so different from her own after all. Granted, the Granger household didn’t have a floo, nor a flying motorbike hidden somewhere, but they had a stack of sticky notes on the fridge which spoke of love and family and shared lives just like the Potter-Lupin-Black household did.
--
Hermione tried to get lost in her spellwork as she practiced her OWL level transfiguration on old envelopes that Harry had lying around his room, but as much as she’d been looking forward to doing just this, she couldn’t clear her mind.
The only contact she’d had with the wizarding world was through her Daily Prophet subscription and the letters she exchanged with Harry and Ron, and it simply wasn’t enough. Ron had written and said everything was tense and quiet at the Burrow, and that Percy and his dad came home with their heads bent close together everyday. But despite Fred and George trying their hardest, they’d not been able to overcome Molly’s silencing charms in order to find out more. Hermione’s best lead was as cold as Hogwarts in winter.
“Hey Harry,” she knew bringing it up outright probably wasn’t the best idea but she’d never been the most patient person, “have you been reading the Prophet lately?”
Harry tensed up a little but shook his head. “Here and there. Remus gets it so he can stay up to date on people’s opinions, but we all know what they write is a load of old hippogriff dung.”
“Yes, well. It is.” She conceded, “but don’t you think it’s interesting how they’re trying to deny it ever happened?”
“Not really, no.” Harry’s grip on his wand tightened but he abandoned the charms he’d been practicing. The envelope in front of him stayed stubbornly beige as he looked away from it. “They don’t want to confront it because it means he’s really back.”
He got up and sat on his bed, bouncing a little before he stood again and went to stroke Hedwig, who was resting on her perch.
“I know, but I just don’t understand how they can write what they do. It’s obvious something’s happening, but I just don’t know what! And I can’t talk to my parents about it because they don’t know and if they did then they’d send me to another school -”
“Hermione,” Harry turned his back on her, his shoulders a tense line. “Can we talk about something else please?”
“But aren’t you angry? Don’t you want to know what’s happening?”
“Of course I’m angry! Moony tries to hide the headlines from me but I still know what they’re saying.” Harry deflated. “I hate it.”
“I know.” Hermione hated the haze they were in too. She knew with certainty that something bad was going to happen, but she didn’t know what. She was living on a constant cliff edge. “It feels so out of our control. We need to do something.”
“Do what? Start an anti-Voldemort league?”
“Yes!” Hermione didn’t see why Harry was rolling his eyes. “Why not? We need to educate ourselves. If the rest of the wizarding world are going to turn blind eyes to this then we need to be prepared.”
“I’m so tired of being the one who pays attention. Can’t we just have one year to be normal?”
“Speaking of...did you get your letter from Hogwarts yet?
Harry sat back down next to her and prodded his envelope with his wand again.
“Yeah, nothing interesting though. You?”
Hermione felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I got made a prefect.”
“You did!” Harry gave her a quick hug, and Hermione relaxed into it. She shouldn’t have doubted that Harry would be happy for her. They were always there for each other. “That’s amazing Hermione! And I’m not surprised at all. Who’s the other Gryffindor prefect?”
“He hasn’t told you yet?” Hermione didn’t have the energy to lament the lack of communication between boys. “It’s Ron.”
“Ron?” Harry laughed, and it was harsh and mean. “What’s Ron been made a prefect for?”
“He’s a very good student actually. If you bothered to pay attention to things like that you’d know he gets better grades than nearly all the other Gryffindor boys.” Hermione looked at her envelope intently, “and he’s nice to the younger students, I think he’ll be a great role model for them.”
Harry stared at her incredulously, and she could feel herself getting more and more annoyed. Ron was their other best friend! Why shouldn’t they both be happy for him? Then, Harry threw his head back and laughed.
“What!”
“Merlin, Hermione,” his eyes were lit up with laughter, “you fancy him, don’t you!”
Her stomach dropped. Oh no. She did like Ron. Suddenly the way she rushed to reply to Ron’s letters as soon as they arrived made a lot more sense. She loved writing to Harry too of course, but there wasn’t the same sense of urgency with him. She and Harry could say anything to one another - they got in fights, they bickered, they laughed, and they comforted each other when they were sad. Ron wasn’t like that. Ron was constantly on her mind, annoying her, challenging her, making her think differently. He was the person she loved to argue with best, the person she loved to laugh with most of all. Oh, shit.
“No I don’t!” She got to her feet and walked out the door of the bedroom, leaving Harry laughing on the floor. “I’m going to go and see if lunch is ready.”
--
Ronke was absorbed in conversation when her daughter appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, her wand clutched tightly in her hand and her newly-short front teeth biting down on her lip. That was the tell-tale look of an embarrassed Hermione.
The laughing, teasing voice of Harry floated down from upstairs, “you’ll have plenty of time together on your prefect duties.”
Hermione turned as Harry jumped down the last few stairs, still laughing. “You’re an ass Harry Potter.”
She flicked her wand at him, and Ronke almost fell out of her chair laughing when Harry opened his mouth to retort and the only sound that escaped was a donkey’s bleat.
Hermione made a show of holstering her wand and flouncing to the table, sitting down with her hands folded primly in front of her, “that’ll teach you.”
Ronke knew she shouldn’t be encouraging her daughter to retaliate like that, but the number of times she wished she could have done the same thing to Hermione’s father won out, and she pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head.
“Amazing!” Sirius was laughing as much as she was, much to Harry’s bleated annoyance.
“You cast that non-verbally?” Remus looked at Hermione appraisingly, “very impressive. Creative spellwork too. Can you teach it to me? It would come in handy around here.”
Harry took the seat opposite her and stared at them all in dismay.
“Hermione is very good for her age, no?”
“Mama!”
“Don’t be modest Hermione,” Remus said. “Ronke, your daughter is unusually gifted. She reminds me of Harry’s mother, at that age. Lily was the top of every class she was in as well.”
“She was muggleborn too, wasn’t she?” Hermione was flustered, as she always was when they spoke about her brilliance. Which was fairly often, Ronke conceded, but how could she be blamed for celebrating her daughter?
“Yeah,” Remus said, a small smile on his lips. “After we graduated she went to university to study advanced potion making. She was going to be a potions master. She would have revolutionised the field, I’ve no doubt.”
“So university is still an option?” Theo piped up, ignoring the sadness that had flickered over Remus’ face. “Hermione can still do further study?”
“Of course!” Remus looked surprised that they didn’t know that already. “A witch with Hermione’s talents would have the pick of anywhere she wanted.”
Ronke breathed a sigh of relief. She’d wanted her daughter to have that experience so much. University was where she’d met Theo and it was where she’d had the space to grow up away from her family. She knew there was a lot of pressure on Hermione to get good grades and to follow in their footsteps, but she really did believe that it was a good pressure. Going to university would set Hermione up for a good life.
“What are the best universities for wizards? Should we be looking at them now?” Theo got out a pen and paper. Where he’d hidden them, Ronke had no idea.
Remus laughed a little. “There’s no rush now. Some of the oldest universities have wizarding colleges - Oxford and Cambridge do, but Edinburgh has the largest wizarding cohort for a muggle school. If you’re looking at completely wizard schools then there’s a couple dotted around, but Belvedere is the best renowned. That’s where Lily went.”
“Where did you go?” Ronke turned to see Remus turn faintly pink around the ears.
“Wizarding universities don’t let people like me in.” He shrugged. Ronke couldn’t help the swell of indignation that rose up within her at those words. “I went to muggle university after the war. I read English and Russian literature at Bath.”
“Oh!” Harry snapped his fingers and pointed between his godfathers, “you did Russian for him! I did think it was a bit of a random choice.”
Remus’ cheeks went from pink to red as he spluttered, staring in vain at Sirius and Harry, who were too busy laughing to come to his aid. Ronke loved the complete lack of tact teenagers possessed.
“I happen to love Russian liter-”
“You love one Russian all right.” Hermione and Remus raised their wands at Sirius at the same time. “Hey! No, I’m sorry, I promise no more -” The end of Sirius’ sentence diverged into a great braying bleat.
Harry gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, “it’ll wear off in five minutes.”
--
The rest of the lunch passed quickly, with thankfully no more spells being cast, until Theo was frowning at his watch and making moves to leave.
“Papa please, let’s just stay a little bit longer?”
Theo tilted his head in the way Ronke knew meant he was about to give in. Hermione had learnt the exact right tone of voice she needed to use to wrap him around her little finger at the age of seven and she abused it regularly.
“We don’t want to overstay our welcome, little witch,” she rolled her eyes at Hermione’s huff, “go grab your things.”
Normally, Ronke would have wanted to stay longer, to get more information out of Harry and his godfathers, and to allow Hermione to be around magic like she knew her daughter craved, but the effects of being surrounded by magic for hours on end were starting to wear on her. It felt like she wasn’t fully in her body, like her limbs were too heavy to move and her head was curiously light.
Leaving the house was like a breath of fresh air. The lightheadedness the magic had brought on disappeared instantly and the band of pressure around her head loosened. Hermione was the only one of them who looked back at the house in dismay as they got into the car to leave.
--
“I can see where Hermione gets her brains,” Remus closed the door behind him and stretched his arms, wincing slightly at the pull on his ribs. “And her need to know everything. I’m exhausted now.”
“Want some time alone?” Sirius was still full of energy, “I can go finish up the office if you’d like?”
Sirius had always been one to offer Remus time and space alone if he looked like he needed it, and that time alone used to be something that Remus craved. But somewhere along the line wanting to be alone had meant wanting to be with Sirius. Granted, there were still days that was definitely not true, but those were few and far between.
“Stay with me.”
They settled into their favourite armchair together, Remus with a book in one hand and the other stroking through Sirius’ hair, Sirius with his knees propped up so he could write a letter. It was nearly silent in the room apart from the scratch of quill on parchment and the turning of pages.
Harry came down an hour later. He was playing with the snitch Sirius had given him for the trial, the very image of James Potter as he carelessly flopped onto the sofa and let the snitch fly about his head, catching it effortlessly.
“You okay?” Sirius was looking at Harry with his eyes narrowed, his letter ignored for now.
“Mmhmm.”
“What is it?”
“Tired.”
Sirius opened his mouth to talk back but Remus nudged him and shook his head. Harry was getting better at coming to them with his everyday problems. Before, he’d kept everything inside before it all burst out in one go. Him even coming downstairs to sit with them while he was clearly upset about something was a good thing, and it wouldn’t do to push.
Sirius settled back into Remus’ side and continued writing his letter. Harry tracked the movement with his eyes.
“Oh,” he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out one of the letters Hedwig had delivered earlier, “you left this in the office. It’s the letter from Dumbledore.”
“Whats’it say?” Remus mumbled around a yawn.
He put his book down and closed his eyes, pulling Sirius closer into him. The sound of Harry opening the letter and beginning to speak washed over him.
“It says:
'Dear Remus and Sirius,
We are once again facing a time of great uncertainty. The events on the night of the third task are being widely denied and only a few will stand up and fight what will surely follow.
It is with honour that I will be calling the Order of the Phoenix back together again. As two of our original members I would be humbled if you returned to us.
Together, we must fight what is to come. For the sake of everyone who calls the wizarding world home, and for those who do not.
I write not only to invite you back into our midst, but to ask whether the Order could use Grimmauld Place as headquarters. It’s the only unplottable property we have available to us and I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t imperative we stay hidden.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore.'”
Harry looked up at them over the top of the letter.
Remus was shaking faintly. This was it, then. The war was knocking at their door. He’d be sent underground again to spy on Greyback. No matter that they all knew who he was now. The werewolf who loves . Voldemort’s taunt rang in the back of his mind. Remus breathed in deeply and squeezed Sirius’ hands. He looked over at Harry, who had the letter crumpled in one hand and the struggling snitch in the other.
“So there is going to be a war.” His voice was bleak, resigned. Remus’ heart broke. Harry was fifteen - too young to be facing this. Younger than they’d been when the war interrupted their youth.
“Harry,” Sirius said, “we won’t leave you.”
Remus sighed. They couldn’t promise that.
“What right does he have to ask this of us!” Harry blurted out, his anger sudden and blazing. He was at once the thirteen year old boy Remus had comforted after facing dementors. The fear in his green eyes was just the same.
“Dumbledore wouldn’t ask if he had another choice, Harry. It’s up to us, but I think we need to seriously consider it.”
“You hate him.” Harry said, “I saw the way you looked at him after the third task.”
“How we feel about him doesn’t need to affect you, Prongslet.” Sirius chuckled and sat up, Remus following suit. “What he did to me and Remus after the war wasn’t okay. But - and there is a but - he’s our best chance at defeating Voldemort. He’s on your side, if not ours.”
“You need to know the truth,” Remus added on, “he can be manipulative. I’ve no doubt he let me attend Hogwarts because he truly believed I belonged there, but he also used it as leverage to get me to agree to things later on that I didn’t want to do. I wasn’t really given the chance to do anything but be a spy for the Order after we graduated. He might try something similar with you.”
Remus sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t like reliving this. He’d trusted Dumbledore through and through but his eyes had been opened to his bad side early on.
“He never let me see you when you were with the Dursleys. I’ve a feeling I never would have been allowed to meet you if I hadn’t agreed to the teaching post.”
Harry blinked quickly, trying not to let his tears fall, “he left me there.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand why he would have asked you to teach if he didn’t like you.”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of whether he likes me or not. It’s a matter of what’s convenient for him.” Remus had given this a lot of thought. “I think he asked me to teach that year because he knew if I was in the castle he could keep an eye on me. He knew I’d be out searching for Sirius otherwise.”
“And he didn’t want you together?”
“You have to remember, Harry,” Sirius said, “he still thought I was guilty.”
“So what’s going to happen now?”
“I think we need to let the Order use this place.” Sirius spoke up.
“But where will we go?” Harry asked. Remus really didn’t want to have to move him so soon, not after they’d just sorted everything out. Harry was so excited to have helped put the house together.
“Well, what we were talking about earlier got me thinking. The Potter Estate belongs to you, Harry.”
“He can’t claim that until he’s seventeen, Pads.”
“We’d have to check with someone who actually knows these things, but I think we’d be able to claim it early now we’re his legal guardians.” Sirius waved a hand gracefully through the air, “anyway, even if we can’t get the Windsor estate sorted there are a load more Black properties we could use.”
Remus understood then, why Sirius was so keen on letting the Order use Grimmauld Place. He’d grown up here and suffered for it. He’d barely said a word in complaint when they’d set up house here in the days after his escape, but he’d only really started to make an effort with the house once Harry had agreed to stay. Before that, he and Sirius had cleaned up their bedroom and the kitchen and that was it. Then the trial and everything that came after took over. There’d been no time to think about moving home.
Remus could recognise the signs now he knew what to look for; when Harry wasn’t home he ran around the house, unable to settle for long, and only really stilled when Remus was around; he only went into rooms they’d refurbished and always had the curtains drawn and windows open, even if it was cold outside.
“You’re right,” Remus nudged Sirius and shot him a small smile, “moving would do us good.”
“But we’ve only just got everything nice!”
“The Potter Estate is amazing,” Remus said, “you won’t be sorry to leave this place when you see how your dad grew up.”
The realisation of getting to explore his father’s childhood home brought the smile back to Harry’s face.
“Okay,” he agreed, “so long as we don’t have to move to Russia.”
“Hey!” Sirius chucked a balled up piece of parchment at his godson, “Mother Russia is very beautiful. I’ll take you sometime, though,” he paused, “only when I can be absolutely sure none of my relatives will be there too.”
--
Harry went up to his bedroom after they had dinner, leaving Sirius and Remus at the kitchen table.
“It won’t be as easy as just apparating to Windsor, will it?”
“Doubt it.” Sirius pulled his hair into a bun and shuffled his chair closer, “but I think it will be good for us.”
Remus smiled and tucked a strand of black hair back into Sirius’ bun, “it will be.”
He leant forward and captured Sirius’ lips with his own, kissing him slowly. The threat of this war didn’t feel like it did last time. Back then it made them intense and passionate. Remus being sent away on month-long missions and coming back bruised and bloodied had forged their relationship into one that could survive anything, so long as they had each other. But they had worse things in their past than they could ever have imagined for themselves back then. They’d survived on their own and been given a second chance at their forever. No matter what was coming, they’d face it together. That much had never changed.