Chapter Text
The warmth of the summer sun was bearing down heavily on Remus as he attempted to finish writing notes for his O.W.L students, having had little to no free time throughout the summer to even start it.
Between the neverending ministry meetings he and James had to attend to try and get Sirius out of Azkaban, taking Harry to the Quidditch World Cup in France, the moons, Sirius breaking out of Azkaban, and dealing with the consequences of his jailbreak, it's no wonder his lesson planning had been put off until now.
It was a week until they were due to return to Hogwarts when they finally had time to celebrate Harry’s 13th birthday, and so that’s how Remus ended up sat in the Weasley’s garden in late August, bent almost double as he tried to complete his paperwork while his Godson practically squealed with happiness while flying the new broomstick he, Sirius and James had gifted him.
“Are you really doing that right now?”Sirius asked, standing and blocking the sun from shining obnoxiously on Remus’ parchment.
“I am,” Remus replied, unfurling himself from his slouch. “I wont get time before lessons start up with the moon”. Remus got a new piece of parchment from his satchel, placing it on top of his old one. Sirius made a hum of acknowledgement as he looked up at Harry, who very nearly plowed straight into the man’s head. Remus huffed as Sirius’ slight movement let sunlight to obnoxiously fill his parchment again.
“Why don’t we get you inside, love?” Sirius asked, moving back to blocking the sun’s glare once again. Sirius always seemed to understand Remus, even after spending 12 years in Azkaban.
Remus, defeated, exhausted and knowing full well Sirius would not leave him be until he was safely in the Weasley’s kitchen, packed his satchel slowly as Sirius wandered over to James, presumably explaining where the two of them were going in case Harry asked.
His muscles were already sore, he quietly mused, as he was steered slowly into the shaded house. A subconscious sigh left his lips the moment he stepped through the door’s threshold, and he heard Sirius chuckle quietly beside him. Just as Sirius forced him into one of the most comfortable armchairs he had ever felt, Molly Weasley came bustling into the kitchen, muttering something about headaches and tea.
Remus groaned as he realised it was about him.
“Honestly Molly, I'm fine. I'm used to it-” Remus began, before being cut off by the softest yet sternest voices he had ever heard, causing his mouth to snap shut instantly, much to Sirius’ enjoyment it seemed, as the man instantaneously burst into silent giggles at the sight.
“Remus Lupin, I told you as soon as you got here that the moment you felt under the weather, you could come in here to rest with a nice cup of tea, not silently suffer out in the sun for Merlin knows how long!” The only noises heard for a few moments were Sirius’ stifled laughs and the clinking of china from the small kitchen. It wasn't long before she rounded the corner, a steaming cup of tea and plate of biscuits trailing behind her.
Remus could only stare silently while accepting the cup from the air in front of him.
Merlin, he needed to take another suppressant.
A few minutes passed, filled only with Sirius and Molly sharing a conversation while Remus silently sipped on his steaming drink, his thoughts racing in an attempt to form a plan that allowed him to be excused for long enough to take another much needed suppressant.
The quiet scene, however, was interrupted suddenly with the sound of someone arriving via the floo network. The trio, bewildered and wondering who it could be, looked between one another, but before Remus could move from the armchair, Arthur Weasley walked into the house. Wand drawn and having obviously heard the stranger’s arrival, he signalled for silence as he crept towards the fireplace.
Tension crippled the seconds ticking by, causing the three beats it took for Arthur to discover the stranger to feel more like three minutes. Yet, the tension disappeared just as quickly as it arrived at the words Arthur spoke next.
“Ah Minerva, what a pleasant surprise!” Remus let out a sigh of relief - he didn’t think he had it in him to take anyone in a duel, no doubt due to the incoming moon that already felt like it was going to be a bad one.
“So sorry for the intrusion Arthur.” Came Minerva McGonagall’s voice - being his previous transfiguration teacher-slash-head-of-year and current boss, Remus would know that voice anywhere. That woman was more of a Mother to him than his real parents ever were.
The two of them rounded the corner and entered the living room, and Remus instantly noticed that the witch looked like she was ready to attend a meeting at the ministry.
Dread filled him with his next thought: Maybe she’s just come from the ministry.
Sirius’ and Remus’ eyes met as if the thought hit them at the exact same time, before they simultaneously turned back to face Minerva, who, as if sensing their eyes on her, turned from greeting Molly and Arthur to meet Sirius’ eyes.
“It’s nothing serious, I promise.” The sincerity in her voice was enough to allow himself to relax back into the squishy armchair, his muscles almost too weak to hold him up for much longer.
Sirius settled on the coffee table in front of Remus, who stopped himself from chastising him as Minerve began to talk.
“I was called for a meeting with Fudge, and once again the message was more than capable of being conveyed by an owl,” a small smile graced Remus’ pale face at the woman's distaste in the minister.
She turned to Sirus before continuing, having taken to pacing as she used to do while teaching. “You need to be classified, Sirius.”
A beat of silence followed.
“He hasn’t been classified?” Arthur was the first to speak. “Classifications were set into law over a decade ago, how did the ministry miss him?”
“They didn’t miss him Arthur, they purposefully ignored him.” And if that wasn't like a punch to the gut, Remus didn't know what was.
“And now that you are to be working at Hogwarts, Fudge has seemingly taken that ignorance back - most likely due to the fear of how the parents would complain if it ever got out, rather than your wellbeing I’m afraid Sirius, but there’s nothing to do about that I’m afraid.” McGonagall’s eyes filled with sorrow as she said this to Sirius, who just shrugged.
“Your test is set to take place on September second - just go up to the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey will meet you there. Do you have any questions?”
Surprisingly, Sirius’ hand rose to rub the back of his neck, and Remus could see a blush rising to cover his ears - he’s rarely ever seen Sirius this embarrassed, even the time James was testing a new spell out and accidentally made Sirius run around the courtyard acting like a monkey was nothing compared to this.
“Well, I-” Sirius ducked his head, wringing his hand slowly in his lap. “What can you be classified as?”
And didn’t that just feel like a slap in the face? Not only had the Ministry withheld Sirius’ right to a classification test, but also any and all information about it? Remus felt sick.
“There are three categories,” McGonagall started, calm demeanour returning as she sat on a sofa opposite Sirius’ still-too-skinny form. “Neutrals have no extra biological needs, Caregivers have the biological need to care, and Littles have the biological need to be cared for.”
The conversation carried on for a while longer, with McGonagall calmly explaining everything she could about the different classifications - Sirius kept the conversation on the intriguing science of scents for nearly ten minutes before they could carry on. Eventually, the information illegally withheld from him was finally given, and although Sirius looked happier than Remus had seen him in weeks, he could help but feel an insane amount of guilt.
How didn’t they realise he was unclassified?
“I know that look in your eyes Lupin, stop blaming yourself, it’s no-one’s fault but the ministries.” McGonagall’s voice jolted Remus from his thoughts, and he nodded his head solemnly, a blush forming on his cheeks as he recognised three other pairs of eyes were on him.
Shortly after, Minerval left once more to finish preparing for the impending start of term, and Sirius’ questions started up once again.
“So, what are you all classified as?” The 11 of them sat huddled around the table after dinner - the table had practically been sagging under the weight of Molly’s wondrous cooking, and even Remus’ elusive appetite had returned at the sight of all the delicious looking dishes.
“Me and Molly are both Caregivers” Arther replied, a smile appearing on his face as he caught Molly’s gaze. “Probably why we didn’t stop having these little tykes.”
The conversation continued around the table, each of the older Weasley children telling Sirius their classifications - Percy was a neutral, while both Fred and George were Caregivers with Little tendencies - before reaching James, who Sirius described as ‘the most Caregiver-ing Caregiver to ever Caregiver’ after he was told James’ classification.
Then it was Remus’ turn. He had to cough a few times before he found his voice.
“Neutral.”
Sirius was silent for a beat, before he replied.
“Really?”
“No-one was more surprised than me when he came home with that Classification paper Pads, believe me.” James very unhelpfully replied from beside Remus, who gave him a well deserved nudge in the ribs.
“Do they ever make mistakes?” Sirius asked, and Remus could feel his breath sticking in his throat - he knew.
“You can smell it on him” James replied, before leaning over Remus to get closer to Sirius and faux-whispering “Even if he is the sweetest smelling Neutral i have ever come across”, earning him another jab in the ribs.
“What’s that mean?” Harry asked from the other end of the table, and Remus jumped slightly, having forgotten the children were still sitting with them.
“I’ve got Caregiver tendencies” Remus supplied quickly before anyone else could reply.
“Caregiver tendencies mean you’re a good babysitter, right?” Sirius asked, still trying to wrap his head around all the new terminology.
“In theory, yes.” Remus mumbled in response, earning an exasperated sigh from James.
“Mooney, we’ve been over this - you are not a danger to Littles, just like you were never a danger to Harry.” Remus could see Harry nodding enthusiastically from the corner of his eye.
“Do only Neutrals have scents?” Ron asked suddenly.
“Oh, no, everyone has a scent,” James replied kindly, “Only classified Littles and Caregivers are able to smell them, mind.”
“Does that mean we have a scent, even if we aren’t classified yet?” Harry asked excitedly.
“Course you do kiddo, unclassifieds smell like fresh laundry, it’s quite pleasant really. And Neutrals smell quite similar, so it can be hard to make out the difference.”
“What do Littles smell like?” It was Sirius this time.
“Well, their scents change depending on their moods - happy, content Little’s smell like baby powder, when they need to drop they smell much sweeter, and when they’re upset, you can tell when they’re upset” Molly replied.
“I never can quite put into words what an upset Little smells like,” Arthur mused, and Remus shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
“It’s said that Caregiver’s smell differently to Littles than to other Caregivers, which I find pretty interesting - to me, Molly and Arthur are quite Earthy, but I’ve been told that Caregiver’s smell very sweet to Littles.”
“Really Dad? That’s so cool!” Harry replied, a bright smile gracing his face.
As the conversation about classifications continued, Remus excused himself from the table with the excuse of his pre-moon symptoms worsening (which was true), and was sent to bed with another warm cup of tea and a goblet of Wolfsbane potion.
The moment he got to the room he, Sirius and James were sharing, he sighed, downed his steaming potion and placed the empty goblet on his bedside table. After sticking his ear to the door for a few moments to check no-one was going to interrupt him, he rushed over to his bag and, pushing away the fuzzy feeling that had steadily been enveloping his brain, swallowed one of his suppressants with a gulp of scalding tea.
Remus still expected the instant evacuation of his headspace like he used to when he first started them, however the new, slower removal of his headspace left him panicky and positively reeling.
He was becoming tolerant to them.
Fuck.