Archive of Our Own

Teaching had proven to be both more rewarding and more challenging than Remus could have ever expected. It was moments like this one, though, that kept Remus coming back year after year. 

Harry Potter, all of thirteen years old, positively beamed up at Remus as the last silver wisps of his patronus faded away. “Professor,” he said excitedly, “I did it!”

“You did!” Remus agreed, just as pleased. “That was brilliant, Harry, absolutely brilliant—you should be very proud!”

Nothing could have prepared Remus for Harry Potter. The boy had a talent for finding trouble (helping a twelve-year-old fight a basilisk had definitely not been in Remus’ job description and had nearly convinced him not to return for this year), but he had a natural aptitude for Defense that Remus couldn’t help but want to foster. It was so rare that someone threw themselves so wholly into the subject at this age, and Harry’s thirst for knowledge rivaled Remus’ own at that age. When Harry came up to him at the beginning of term and explained that he’d come across the Patronus Charm in an advanced Defense textbook in the library, Remus had expected Harry to accept his explanation that he taught his NEWT-level students that spell. But Harry had wanted to give it a go, and the next thing Remus knew, they were meeting twice a week to practice it. 

And now, right before the winter hols, Harry had managed it. It warmed something in Remus’ chest to see the boy so excited. 

“Professor, do you think…” Harry bit his lip, looking suddenly shy. Remus wanted to chase that expression off his face for good; he nodded encouragingly and waved his hand for Harry to continue. “Do you think I could invite Sirius up here one weekend to show him? It’s only that I can't do magic at home, so I can’t just wait for the holidays…”

Ah, yes. Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather. He’d just in the last year gotten custody of Harry at long last, after a five-long battle to prove that he’d had absolutely no connection with Voldemort during the war—and then several more years to win custody over Harry’s aunt and uncle. Remus wasn’t sure why the Dursleys hadn’t just handed the boy over; Harry’s rare mentions of them indicated that they weren’t too pleased with needing to raise him. But Remus was only his teacher, and so he bit his tongue against the questions he wanted to ask and focused on helping Harry blossom in the classroom. The boy’s transformation since his first year was remarkable, and Remus was proud to note that Harry was more confident, smiled more easily, and was unafraid to make himself heard in class—even more so since coming into his godfather’s care.

Remus ordinarily would have suggested that the Trace could be tricked since there was a wizard in Harry’s home now, but a spell as powerful as the Patronus Charm wouldn’t go unnoticed. “Well… let’s speak with Professor McGonagall about that, Harry, but I don’t see why he couldn’t visit the castle next Hogsmeade weekend. Perhaps he could come a day early and watch your next Quidditch game, too.”

Harry nodded eagerly, green eyes blazing with hope, and Remus should have known then that something was about to change.

… 

A small truth: Remus remembered Sirius Black from school. They’d shared a dorm, even, in their Hogwarts days. Sirius and James Potter had been thick as thieves from their very first day, and James had tried, initially, to welcome Remus into their fold. Remus could still picture so vividly how he’d felt at eleven, desperate for friends but utterly terrified of being found out as a werewolf; eventually, despite his Gryffindor status, that fear won out and Remus retreated from James’ persistent offers of friendship. Eventually, even James Potter tired of trying to make a friend out of him. 

Looking back, Remus knew it had been for the best—if word of his condition had gotten out, he’d never have graduated, much less gotten a teaching position at the school. Still, much as he loved the career he’d built for himself, there would always be that what-if in the back of his mind, haunting him on his loneliest days. Perhaps that was why he’d made the offer to Harry when Minerva had cleared Sirius’ visit. 

“I suppose I could go with you to the Floo hub in Hogsmeade,” Remus had mused when Harry explained Minerva’s stipulation that Harry needed a chaperone to collect his godfather; for security reasons, guardians were rarely permitted to Floo directly into the castle. “I’ll be going there anyway to pick up my son.”

Harry’s eyes had lit up with equal parts excitement and intrigue. “I didn’t know you had a son, Professor.” 

A small thread of anxiety twisted in Remus’ chest, but he shoved it aside. “I do,” he said. “He’s a young one and goes to nursery during the week—with your friend Ron’s mum, actually. I collect him from Hogsmeade in the afternoons.”

Teddy was, without question, the greatest thing Remus had ever done. Forget his secretive service during the war, forget his technically-groundbreaking Hogwarts education—Teddy was a light that Remus never knew he wanted until a bubblegum pink haired Auror had called him up to let him know their their post-Defense conference hookup had left them with a surprise. Tonks hadn’t had any grand dreams to be a mum, but Remus felt stable enough in his teaching job that he wanted to try being a dad (terrifying though that thought had been). When they’d welcomed Edward Lupin into the world, Remus knew he’d made the right choice. Tonks’ career took her all over the continent, so they settled on Remus having full custody and welcomed Teddy’s mum during Christmas and his birthday. Tonks sent money to help out, and last Remus had heard of her, she was enjoying a mission abroad in Romania—more than typical, he thought with a wry smile. 

Remus hadn’t really intended for his son to be kept a secret, but he’d been raised to be cautious. His condition, though not inheritable, would affect Teddy if he was found out. Being the son of a werewolf was nearly as terrible as being a werewolf yourself. So, no—Remus didn’t advertise the fact that he had a son, just in case it turned Teddy into a target later in life. It wasn’t a long-term solution, but it made Remus feel better to know that he had even that little bit of control. 

“That’s brilliant,” Harry said, pulling Remus back into the present. “Thank you, Professor—I’ll write Sirius now. I’ll see you on Friday!”

“You’ll see me tomorrow morning in class,” Remus called out, but Harry was already running out the door. Remus shook his head fondly; there was so much of James Potter in him. 

Remus managed to put the whole thing from his mind until Friday, when Harry hovered by Remus’ desk at the end of classes, practically vibrating with his excitement even as he tried to play it cool. Remus cleaned up as quickly as he could, chuckling softly to himself. When they finally set off for Hogsmeade together, the dam finally broke. 

“Thank you again for doing this, Professor. Sirius—he was really excited to come see, you know?”

“As he should be,” Remus said proudly. “It’s very impressive magic, and practically unheard of for someone so young. I’d want to see it for myself, too.”

Harry grinned broadly. “I had a pretty good teacher, you see.”

“Pretty good?” Remus raised a brow, but he let Harry see his smile. “I should hope you give the poor fellow higher praise than that, if he taught you to conjure a fully corporeal patronus.”

Harry looked at him with such an earnest expression that Remus was momentarily taken aback. “He’s the very best,” Harry said seriously. He cleared his throat. “I really enjoy your class, Professor Lupin. And I—I really appreciate that you took the time to teach me the charm. You didn’t have to.”

“Perhaps not,” Remus allowed, “but I consider it my job to foster the curiosity in my students. Wanting to challenge yourself is never a bad thing, and besides that, I was quite pleased that you were so interested in learning. Defense is a passion of mine.”

“I know, but it was still kind of you.” Harry kicked at one of the cobblestones as they entered Hogsmeade. “Sirius says he knew you in school.”

Remus cleared his throat, wondering how much he should reveal. “We shared a dormitory. I didn’t know him well—I tended to keep to myself—but we did know each other.”

“So you must have known my dad, too, then,” Harry said, obviously aiming to sound casual. 

Remus felt a little flicker of sadness. “I did, a little. He was always very kind to me, if a little… overexcited at times.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s attention was squarely on Remus now. “Sirius never calls him that.”

“No, I don’t imagine he would. They were very alike in that way—he likely wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Was he—my dad—did he… strut?” 

Strut? Remus frowned, confused. Harry looked embarrassed by the question, but he hadn’t broken eye contact with Remus, obviously waiting for the answer. “Er… He was confident. Very popular—so was your godfather—and they both knew it.” Remus cast his mind back to his Hogwarts days, tried to summon up words that would not betray the intense longing Remus had felt watching them but was still an honest portrayal of the boy Harry’s father had been. “He was comfortable taking up space,” he settled on after a moment. “James was loud, and boisterous, and a troublemaker. A little cocky, as most teenage boys tend to be. But I wouldn’t say he strutted. Your godfather, on the other hand…” Remus trailed off with a grin so Harry would know he was joking. “They lived to entertain, really. It was always a performance with them. I suppose some could have called it strutting, but I rather thought they were looking for laughs.”

Harry’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Oh, that’s… that’s good. That’s brilliant, actually.”

Remus raised a brow. “Where’d you get the idea that your father strutted?”

Harry ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Er… something I heard Professor Snape say,” he mumbled. 

Remus barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t pay much attention to what Professor Snape says about your father or godfather,” he warned. “They didn’t get along. It would be an unfair assessment—just like I’m sure whatever your godfather has said to you about Severus has been exaggerated.”

Harry looked doubtful, which was, unfortunately, a reasonable response. Remus imagined that Snape’s hatred of James had bled into his treatment of Harry, which could only reinforce whatever unflattering picture Sirius had painted. It wasn’t that Remus wanted to defend Snape—he’d been wholly unpleasant to Remus in school, largely because of the amount of time Remus had spent with Lily Evans—but Remus was a firm believer that students shouldn’t be made to hate their teachers prematurely. 

“If you say so.” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. After a beat, he said, “What’s your son’s name?”

Remus tamped down the small flare of anxiousness that elicited in him. “He’s called Teddy.” 

“Aw,” Harry laughed, “that’s a good name.”

Remus couldn’t hide his smile. “Legally, it’s Edward, but… Teddy has always suited him. You’ll see, I’m sure—I’ll be excited to meet you. He loves to see people your age, it makes him feel grown up.”

“I’m excited to meet him,” Harry insisted, and Remus believed him. 

That was the moment they reached the Floo hub. Remus pushed the door open and waved Harry in before him, chuckling softly as he saw Harry look around in amazement. It was impressive if you hadn’t seen it before; as soon as one stepped into the round atrium, three stories of massive fireplaces were visible. There were dozens on each floor, each connected to a highly-traveled destination—those with international designations were on the top floor, the second was mostly reserved for Ministry of Magic departments and London locations, and the bottom floor was mostly used for the witches and wizards needing to make a quick connection through Hogsmeade, and thus the floor with the most foot traffic. Remus clamped a hand on Harry’s shoulder and guided him through the throng towards where his godfather would likely come through. Emerald green flames flashed from every direction, casting all the occupants in an ethereal glow. When he and Harry reached the pickup point, he removed his hand but gave Harry strict instructions to stay close. 

They didn’t need to wait long before Sirius Black appeared. He walked through the crowd as easily as if he was the only person there. Remus was disgruntled to realize that Sirius was just as dashing now as he had been in school—time had not come for Sirius Black. Whereas Remus had lines on his face and was going prematurely grey about the temples, Sirius’ long hair was as raven black as ever, his face free of wrinkles, his shoulders set in a self-confidence usually reserved for the youth. The only thing on him that had aged was the same leather jacket he’d purchased in their sixth year, but even that just looked cool. If Remus wore any of the clothes he had in school, he’d look like he was doing his best impression of a midlife crisis. Of course, there was the argument that he and Sirius were only thirty-six, but with Remus’ condition that really was more like fifty-six. 

His mouth went a little dry when Sirius spread his arms out wide to receive his godson, his movements so grand that the sunglasses perched on top of his head were nearly dislodged. “Haz! Have you had a growth spurt since September? I remember you being much shorter when I dropped you at King’s Cross.”

Harry gave Sirius the fleeting hug of a teenager who still enjoyed affection from their guardian but was mortified to receive it in public. He rolled his eyes. “You’re not that funny, Sirius. Here, look—it’s Professor Lupin.”

The debilitating force of Sirius Black’s full attention was suddenly on Remus, and he was rudely reminded that he’d once had a rather terrible crush on his roommate. “Professor Lupin,” Sirius repeated slowly, letting the name roll torturously off of his tongue. “I remember you.” 

Thirty-six was entirely too old to be blushing, but Remus’ reddening face didn’t get the memo. He cleared his throat aggressively and took a step forward, sticking his hand out for a shake. “It’s been a long time, Black. I was glad to hear you could come—”

“Come on, Remus, we shared a room for seven years—call me Sirius.” Sirius stepped forward and eagerly shook his hand. “And there’s no chance I’d miss this. A Patronus Charm at thirteen!” Sirius grinned at Harry over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Remus. “Ever heard of such a thing?”

“It’s an extraordinary accomplishment,” Remus agreed. 

“Of course…” Sirius leaned in conspiratorily. “I hear he had quite the teacher.”

Sirius was close enough that Remus could see himself mirrored in Sirius’ sunglasses, looking quite shy. “Well—er.” Remus cleared his throat again. “I’d say that’s very generous, but I’ll take the compliment.”

Sirius laughed, a familiar barking sound that Remus hadn’t realized affected him that much until that very moment. “Same old Remus Lupin!” Sirius looked at Harry and cocked his head towards Remus. “He never could take praise in school—your dad tried so hard, but he always managed to turn it around. But you should be honored to be learning from him, Haz—he taught himself the charm in fourth year, did he tell you?”

“No!” Harry’s head whipped around to Remus, his eyes wide. “Did you really?”

Remus rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, yes, I did. I’d come across it in my reading and… Well, I liked a challenge.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry breathed. “What form does yours take? Or—is that okay to ask?”

It wasn’t an unusual question, but Remus felt himself go cold all over anyway. The reason he hadn’t shared with Harry that particular story or given a demonstration of a fully corporeal patronus was because he was so deeply ashamed of the shape his took. It wasn’t a werewolf—but it was as close as one could get, and it only made Remus feel like he could never escape that part of himself. But it would be strange not to answer, so he said as steadily as he could, “Mine is a wolf.”

“Cool!” Harry said excitedly. Remus’ gaze flickered to Sirius, who was regarding him thoughtfully. 

“Loyal and protective creatures, wolves,” Sirius mused. 

Remus nodded awkwardly. “Yes, I suppose—oof!” 

A tiny body collided with the back of Remus’ legs, making his knees fold and nearly bringing them both to the ground. Remus barely managed to catch his balance before he could fall on top of Sirius, of which he may not have survived the humiliation. 

“Tada!” A quick downward glance revealed the freckled, beaming face of one Teddy Lupin, his arms still locked around Remus’ knees. His hair was bright red at the moment, unsurprising since he’d spent the day with the Weasleys. “I got you, Tada!”

“That you did, Ted,” Remus chuckled. He reached down to scoop Teddy up in his arms. Molly Weasley reached his side a moment later, and Remus nodded apologetically at Sirius and Harry before turning to her. “Thank you so much for watching him, Molly.”

She waved aside his thanks, just as she always did. “Oh, dear, you know that boy’s a treat.” She affectionately patted Teddy’s hand. She looked past Remus with some surprise. “Hello, Harry, dear. And Sirius—I wasn’t expecting to see you!”

“‘Lo, Mrs Weasley,” Harry greeted. Sirius waved, looking a little stunned. His grey eyes were trained on Teddy. 

Remus offered an explanation. “Molly runs the nursery Teddy goes to—she’s a great help. Don’t know how I’d manage without her.”

“Oh, I’m happy to do it for Teddy. He’s an inquisitive little thing, but he so rarely gives trouble—not like my boys.” She frowned sharply, no doubt remembering just last week when she’d come to the castle after being contacted to discuss Fred and George Wealsey’s latest troublemaking ventures. “Well, I’d best be off—better not to leave Arthur alone with the horde for too long. He’s easily influenced.”

Remus grinned. “Well, thanks again, Molly. Teds, say—”

“Goodbye, Mrs Weasley!” Teddy waved enthusiastically, but he’d already locked eyes with Harry. Molly laughed and gave her farewells, and no sooner had she stepped away that Teddy tried to launch himself out of Remus’ arms towards Harry. “Hi, I’m Teddy!”

Harry grinned. He seemed a little unsure of how to interact with a child Teddy’s size, but he grasped Teddy’s outstretched hand as Remus fought to keep the boy from falling to the floor. “Hi, Teddy. I’m Harry.”

Teddy pointed to Harry’s red and gold school tie. “You’re a Gryffindor! Tada is a Gryffindor.” Harry nodded awkwardly, but Teddy had already cast an analytic gaze to Sirius. “What are you?”

“Gryffindor again!” Sirius stated proudly, but his eyebrows were climbing towards his hair. He glanced at Remus. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

Remus finally admitted defeat and relinquished Teddy, but he gripped his son’s wrist tightly. He’d learned through experience that his child was a runner. “Ah, yes. I don’t really advertise it, protect his privacy and all that.”

“But no ring?”

Remus blinked. He thought he might be blushing again. “No, no. It’s—his mother—” Remus remembered Harry’s presence and decided his student absolutely did not need to know his teacher had one night stands. “We coparent,” is what Remus eventually landed on. “But she’s usually out of the country, so it’s usually just me and Teddy.”

Sirius clapped his hands together. He looked… pleased? “Brilliant! Haven’t met many other single dads—or godfathers, as it were—our age. Maybe you can give me some pointers.”

Merlin, he was proposing a friendship. That familiar longing began to make itself known in Remus’ chest, but he, just as he always did, chose isolation. “I’m flattered you think I have it together, but I have it on good authority that teenagers are quite different from five-year-olds.” Before Sirius could argue that—and he opened his mouth like he planned to—Remus said, “Come on, let’s head back up to the castle. Harry has a Quidditch match to prepare for.”

That distracted Sirius enough that he agreed, and Remus led the way out of the Floo hub. Remus tried not to notice how closely Sirius stuck to his side. Just one weekend—all he had to do was survive Sirius Black for one weekend. He’d already survived seven years with the man—how hard could it be?

…

Impossible, as it turned out. 

Remus had forgotten just how captivating Sirius was. Even now, there seemed to be a gravity about him that kept pulling Remus in; he found himself keeping Sirius in his line of sight at all times, aching to be spoken to or catching another one of Sirius’ infectious laughs. Remus felt unprofessional and wrong, but he just couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t just that Sirius was one of the best looking men on the planet; he burned so fiercely that no one who passed him could tear their eyes away, Remus included. 

The final nail in the coffin, though, was watching Sirius’ enthusiasm as he watched Harry’s Quidditch match. Sirius sat with Remus and Teddy in the faculty box, and for once, he wasn’t sending loaded, assessing looks Remus’ way; his attention was on Harry alone. He whooped and hollered, and shouted a million encouragements that were lost in the wind long before they reached Harry, but that never stopped him. He was a devoted godfather, and that made Sirius all the more attractive to Remus. 

Remus pulled at the collar of his shirt, suddenly hot. He’d brought Harry, Sirius, and Teddy to the kitchens after the match—a Gryffindor victory!—for a quick meal before they turned in for the night. Teddy would be sleeping in Remus’ school quarters, even though Remus had a small house in Hogsmeade where he and Teddy usually spent the weekends. Sirius supposedly had a room over The Three Broomsticks that he seemed reluctant to check in to. 

“You know,” Sirius told Remus, lazily swirling his glass of wine around, “Minnie still doesn’t seem to trust me. You know what she told me when she saw me? Said I had to stick with you if I insisted on being in the castle because she doesn’t trust me without a chaperone. You’d think I’d get more credit than that.”

“Well,” Remus replied dryly, “I seem to recall a few incidents where you and James Potter flooded the seventh floor or tampered with the food in the Great Hall, so I suppose she’s just being cautious.”

Sirius smiled a little sadly. “Right… Merlin, we were a bit idiotic, weren’t we? Got caught a lot, that I remember. Probably wouldn’t have, if you’d helped us—you always were good at talking your way out of things.” Sirius’ grey eyes bore into Remus’. “Why didn’t you ever tag along?”

It was a blunt, pointed question that made Remus’ mouth go dry. Sirius had been surprisingly kind to him this entire time—Remus had expected a friendly hello, but he’d thought Harry would be the main attraction—yet Sirius never seemed to stray from Remus for long. As much as Remus wished he could take this olive branch, he knew he couldn’t. Nothing good ever came from being a werewolf. 

Luckily, he was rescued by Sirius’ godson.

“Professor,” Harry said, sounding vaguely alarmed, “I don’t know what happened, but your son’s hair is blue.”

Remus and Sirius both turned to see Teddy, valiantly fighting off sleep after his big day, his previously ginger hair a deep turquoise. “Not to worry, Harry—Teddy’s a Metamorphmagus.” At Harry’s lost look, Remus tacked on, “It means he can change his appearance at will—he’s a natural at Transfiguration, you could say. Turquoise is his favorite hair color at the moment.”

Harry looked at Teddy with renewed interest while Sirius let out a low whistle. “Sounds like the start to a good joke,” Sirius said with a grin. “A werewolf and a Metamorphmagus walk into—fucking hell, Remus!”

At the word werewolf, instinct kicked in. Remus launched out of his seat and grabbed Teddy, hauling him into his arms and knocking Sirius’ wine glass out of his hand in the process. He clutched a startled Teddy close to his chest and backed away, angled so as much of his body was between Sirius and his son as possible. With dismay, Remus realized that Sirius and Harry were between him and the door—and he couldn’t disapparate in Hogwarts. 

Sirius lifted his hands slowly, palms out. “Right… Sorry. Probably wasn’t the best way to announce that.”

“How did you know?” Remus demanded, grateful that his voice didn’t shake. 

Sirius shrugged. He had the audacity to look at Remus like his reaction was unreasonable. “Figured it out in second year, mate. Well, fine—James did. But I’d’ve gotten there!”

Harry looked bewildered. “Werewolf?”

“Second year?” Remus said, aghast. His mind was reeling, and he struggled to think logically through the panicked beating of his heart. He had to play this right, or else Teddy could get hurt. Remus tried not to think about how his teaching career had just come to a terrible, abrupt end—or that one of his students was witness to this humiliating, devastating reveal. “What do you mean, second year?”

“We figured out that you were a werewolf in our second year,” Sirius said slowly. To Harry, he said, “Don’t Muggles know about werewolves? They turn into wolves on the full moon.”

Harry looked offended. “I know that. I didn’t know they were real.”

“Ah, sure.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Your good ol’ professor could tell you better than I could” —Remus let out a strangled sound— “but they’re people, Muggle or magical, who’re bitten by a transformed werewolf. They’re, well…”

“Cursed,” Remus said, voice raspy. He clutched Teddy tighter. The boy didn’t understand what his father was, but Remus didn’t have the bandwidth to consider the conversations they’d need to have later. He felt as though he was possessed, another spirit driving his body. He didn’t know why he was supplying Sirius with the terminology for this lesson, but it felt so cruel that he had to stand there and be a part of it. “Those bitten are cursed to transform every full moon. There is no treatment, no cure.” Remus swallowed thickly. “Forced to live on the outskirts of society.”

Harry’s eyes were wide, and Sirius nodded slowly. “You can’t tell anyone this, Haz,” Sirius said, his voice uncharacteristically severe. “If word got out, Remus would lose his job.”

“What?” Harry looked alarmed. “What do you mean? Why?”

Remus couldn’t stop the trembling in his shoulders. Harry didn’t notice, but Sirius did; it made Remus nauseous. Sirius’ eyes hardened. “Because the world’s full of bigots, Harry. Just like how there are purebloods who hate Muggleborns, there’s wizards who hate werewolves. Except… it’s most wizards.”

Remus couldn’t help his derisive snort. He felt hysterical. All these careful, half-true explanations… they didn’t encompass all the pain and suffering he’d lived with for over thirty years. “Most? All. I—” Remus glanced at Harry, and he was sure his eyes were as wide as the boy’s. “I’d never hurt you, Harry, please believe me. I’d never hurt anyone. I’ve always, always shut myself away during the full moon, no chance of escape—”

Sirius’ gaze had darkened. Remus felt a stab of fear, a thorn between his ribs that crept closer and closer to his heart. He shook his head wildly and clutched Teddy tighter, shushing him as reassuringly as he could manage when the little boy nervously called his name. “I’d never hurt anyone,” Remus repeated, nearly begged. “Sirius—Black. Let us leave, and I’ll leave the castle tonight—I’ll resign and I won’t be near your godson again, just let us leave—”

“Hang on!” Sirius stood abruptly, an outraged expression on his face. Remus scrambled back, but there was nowhere to go. “Remus—Remus! I don’t want you to bloody resign, are you mad? Merlin—okay, I’ve messed this up. I’m sorry. No one’s calling the Aurors, all right?”

Remus watched Harry mouth The Aurors? out of the corner of his eye, but his attention remained on Sirius. “What—”

“Let’s start over,” Sirius said firmly. “Harry—here’s a story about your dad, yeah? Once upon a time, we were eleven and Sorted into Gryffindor. So were two other boys—a traitorous backstabbing rat and a little shrimp of a boy who looked like a breeze might knock him over.” 

Remus blinked and managed to be offended beneath his terror. He tilted his head to the side as Sirius continued his bizarre tale, framing one of the most terrifying and taxing periods of Remus’ life as some sort of fairytale. 

“The little shrimp was named Remus Lupin. He Hatstalled—for Ravenclaw, I presume, since he turned out to be a swot—but he was ultimately Sorted into the House of the brave. We four roomed together. We noticed that Remus was…” Here, Sirius faltered, but he caught Remus’ eye and something in his gaze steeled. “He was incredibly kind. We knew we could be pricks. We wanted to get to know him.

“James tried to get him to tag along with us so much. I mean it, Haz—it would have driven anyone else around the bend. But Remus declined every time and stayed on his bed with the curtains drawn or in the library where he knew we’d never dare to go. And it drove your dad mad. Who wouldn’t want to be our friend? We knew he must be barmy.” 

Remus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His memories of his first year in school were full of anxiety—fear that his professors would treat him unfairly or get around the oath they’d sworn to Dumbledore not to expose his secret. And some of them had been horrible, but a few had learned to tolerate him. He thought Minerva and Filius were the only two of his teachers who had genuinely liked him. But now Sirius insisted that he and James Potter had tried relentlessly to earn Remus’ friendship, simply because they like him. Not for a laugh or the challenge of it, like Remus had previously thought. 

“We noticed he got sick often, and it always led to him disappearing for the night. He’s a good liar, though, and James didn’t figure out why he left until our second year.” Sirius’ eyes flickered to Teddy now, and Remus wordlessly pressed his palm flat against Teddy’s ear and pushed his head against his chest. It would only muffle the conversation, but it was better than nothing, and now that Remus wasn’t shaking anymore—when had that stopped?—Teddy’s eyes were starting to droop back closed. Remus went a step further and stroked Teddy’s hair in the way he knew sent him straight to sleep when he was this tired—he wasn’t sure the trick would work when the tension in the air was so thick, but Teddy did, miraculously, nod off. Sirius nodded and continued. “James put together that he disappeared only on the full moon. It was obvious after that.”

Remus’ mouth was dry. “When was that?” he whispered. 

Sirius thought for a moment. “Right after Christmas, I think.”

“And…” Remus couldn’t wrap his head around this at all. They hadn’t acted any differently towards him after that holiday break. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“We thought about it,” Sirius admitted. “But you seemed so nervous, so James insisted we had to give you your space.”

It was obvious what Sirius had thought of that. Remus shook his head. “You—you didn’t want to—to turn me out? I shared the dormitory with you.”

“Well, so what?” Harry interjected. “You’re still you.”

It was almost silly, but those simple words knocked the breath out of Remus’ lungs and filled his eyes with tears that he tried to hide by ducking his head. All his life, he’d been warned of the wizarding world’s prejudices. He’d grown up reading in the papers about what happened to people like him when they were caught out or when they asked for something they didn’t have a legal right to have. Remus’ schooling was illegal. He’d risked imprisonment anyway, but he’d known that the cost was that he had to keep himself apart from the other children. An education only, not a true school experience. 

And here was Sirius, saying he’d known all along and it hadn’t mattered. Here was Harry, first learning about the existence of werewolves and still so sure that they couldn’t be bad if Remus was one of them. 

“I was so careful to keep the secret,” Remus muttered. “I wasn’t supposed to even be in school. Dumbledore—he made an exception—I transformed away from everyone, in secret, so I couldn’t hurt anyone…”

“Except yourself,” Sirius said grimly, and Harry’s expression morphed into one of alarm. Remus felt hot as both their attention fell to the scars visible on his arms and face. He was hyperaware of the ones under his clothing that they couldn’t see. 

Remus bit his lip. “That’s the price I have to pay to keep everyone safe,” he said, unsure why he was defending this. Harry was frowning, so Remus added, “In a confined space, a werewolf will turn on itself. It’s… it’s not my mind, during the transformation. I have no memory of it the next morning. I’m just left with… the aftermath.”

“That’s terrible,” Harry breathed. He hesitated. “They’d really fire you if they knew?”

Remus winced. “No one wants my kind around children.”

Harry’s eyes landed on Teddy. “That’s why you never mention him?”

“I—I have to protect him.”

Harry looked horrified. “Why would they hurt—”

“That’s a long, Harry,” Sirius interjected. “I’ll explain the sordid history later. Remus, come sit. Think about it—if I’ve known this whole time and hated you for it, wouldn’t I have called the Aurors? Alerted the Ministry before coming here, or when I heard you were teaching?”

That… was true. It would be highly unusual for someone to wait that long to ruin him; people typically tried to rid themselves of werewolves immediately. Then again… “You always did love dramatics.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, and Remus felt slightly more at ease. “I’ll give you that one. But I’m also an impatient bastard, so how likely is it really that’d play the long game?”

He had a point there. Remus slowly walked towards Sirius and Harry, but he chose a seat some distance away. He settled Teddy more securely in his lap and then waved Sirius on to continue, all the while wondering if it was really possible that Sirius just… didn’t care. 

“James wanted to give you space,” Sirius said again. “I wanted to talk to you about it, and—and I’ll admit that I wasn’t… thrilled about it at first. But James set me straight before the break was even over.”

If Remus had been brave enough to take his eyes off of Sirius, he’d have dropped his gaze to the floor. “It’s not… It’s not wrong to fear werewolves.”

“Maybe on the night of the full moon,” Sirius conceded, practically daring Remus to challenge him further, “but it’s pretty barmy the rest of the time. Frankly, Professor, I’m more afraid of what you can do with your wand than whether you’ll break out during your transformation.”

Reasonable, actually. “So… James Potter set you straight.”

“He did. Said if there was any real danger, we’d all be werewolves by that point. He didn’t want to scare you off by saying anything, though—he wanted you to get the chance to tell us. I thought we should let you know we’d figured it out, but James won out in the end. Said you had enough troubles.”

Remus dragged a hand over his face. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered. 

“Don’t see why. You’re a good bloke, Remus. You were at twelve, and you are now.” Sirius waved a hand at Harry. “You taught my thirteen-year-old godson to do magic most adult wizards can’t, for Merlin’s sake! You’re an incredible teacher. And Teddy—you’re a great dad to him, too. Is it that barmy that people might like that more than the werewolf thing?”

Remus bit his lip and shook his head. “I… I can’t wrap my head around it. You don’t understand what it’s been like—how it still is.”

“No.” Sirius frowned. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

Remus’ eyes slid over to Harry. He’d calmed down considerably, but now a heavy shame had replaced his panic. He felt flayed alive and exposed. “Harry, I… I understand if this changes how you see me. But please, please do not share this with anyone else. Not even Ron and Hermione.”

Harry looked a little put out when Remus closed that particular loophole, but he nodded. Then he said, “I don’t see you any differently,” and that was what shattered the last of Remus’ composure. 

He blinked back tears and cleared his throat. “It’s been quite the evening,” he murmured, trying his best to regain some semblance of control. “I’ve got to get Teddy to bed, and Sirius—you should check into your room. Harry, I’m sure your friends are waiting for you in Gryffindor Tower. Congratulations on the win.”

“Remus.” Sirius stood, and for the first time in Remus’ memory, he looked unsure. “I shouldn’t have said it that way. I’d still like to see the demonstration. With your supervision.”

“Tomorrow,” Remus said, mostly so Sirius would let him pass. “We can—we can do it tomorrow. Good night.”

He didn’t wait for Sirius’ reply. Remus barely got Teddy into bed before the tears in his eyes spilled over. Sleep eluded him for most of the night; he was too busy grieving the childhood he could have had and the friendships he missed out on. 

…

The next morning, Remus sent Teddy off with Molly Weasley again. He was incredibly anxious about it—he had flashes of scenarios in which Harry had told Ron, who’d promptly owled his mother, who’d instructed her Ministry official husband to send someone after him at drop off that morning—but Molly smiled and greeted them like normal. Remus breathed out a sigh of relief when they left, and then he began the slow walk through Hogsmeade back to the castle. 

It had taken Remus the better part of the night to accept that it was plausible that James Potter and Sirius Black had figured out the truth of his condition and decided to keep his secret. They were the types to think that it was thrilling to share a room with a werewolf, so it made sense to Remus (sort of) that they wouldn’t have wanted to kick him out. It was harder to understand why Sirius Black, now an adult and responsible for his godson, would be so cavalier about a werewolf teaching at Hogwarts, but Remus supposed it wasn’t impossible. 

The problem was this: Remus’ secret was not nearly as well-kept as he thought, and now one of the people who knew it was a thirteen-year-old. Speaking from experience, teenagers were not known for their impulse control or their ability to keep gossip from their friends. There was a large part of Remus that was waiting for a termination letter—or a summons from the Ministry. 

How he was supposed to deliver his lessons on Monday, he had no idea. 

Remus was ripped from his thoughts when someone bumped into his shoulder. He stumbled, and hand reached out to grab his shoulders and steady him. 

“Shit, I’m sorry—Remus?”

Remus closed his eyes. “Good morning, Sirius.”

Sirius was wearing a navy blue jumper that morning, a harsh departure from his normal leather, but no less attractive. It was almost insulting how Sirius could wear something so similar to Remus’ usual attire and make it look cool instead of studious. Sirius’ grey eyes were alight, with what Remus couldn’t guess, and he didn’t release Remus’ shoulders. 

“Remus,” he said, “I’m glad I ran into you. I was coming to see you.”

Remus chewed on his lip. “Is… is this a conversation we should take elsewhere?”

Sirius glanced around the street. It wasn’t too crowded this early in the morning, but there were still a few people milling about. He nodded, and the next thing Remus knew, he was being pulled into The Three Broomsticks. Sirius tried to lead them over to a secluded table in the back, but Remus was having none of that. He grabbed Sirius’ wrist and pulled him into a broom cupboard. For some reason, this seemed to amuse Sirius to no end. 

“You’re a little thrill seeker, aren’t you?” Sirius asked him, his grin barely visible in the dim light. “Admit it, Lupin. Deep down, you like a little mischief.”

Remus stared at him. “What about a broom cupboard gives you that impression?”

“There are exactly two reasons I can think of to explain why you’d know exactly where the broom cupboard in The Three Broomsticks is,” Sirius said gleefully. He raised a slender finger. “First: You caused a bit of trouble from time to time and needed somewhere to hide. Two:” —he raised another finger— “You had a few dalliances in here.”

“Or,” Remus said a little faintly, “three: I’m just more observant than you. Now, I—I suppose you want to talk about yesterday.”

Sirius’ amusement faded. “Yes. Listen, I… I didn’t mean to startle you, but I can see why you were. James always did say I spoke too soon.” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “He always thought you’d panic if we confronted you about it, and I guess he was right.”

“It’s not about that,” Remus said, even though it sort of was, “it’s about you just—blurting it out to Harry. He’s a child, my student. No matter how you feel about it, you can’t just decide for me who knows. You—you shouldn’t have done that. This might be fun or exotic to you, but it’s my life. And this could—this could ruin me. Everything I’ve worked so hard to protect—you’ve jeopardized all of it, Sirius!”

Remus’ voice had gotten louder as he’d carried on. He hadn’t intended to air all of that out, but he found he couldn’t restrain himself once he’d started. When he finished, Sirius looked suitably abashed, which Remus hadn’t expected. 

“You’re right.” Sirius looked away, and Remus was stunned by the guilt in his voice. “I shouldn’t have said anything without your permission. I know what you stand to lose, and I spoke with Harry last night and explained what it would mean for your job and your family.” Sirius frowned sharply and met Remus’ gaze with urgency in his eyes. “Neither of us would ever put you or Teddy in danger, I swear. Could we… could we start this reunion over? This really isn’t how I intended this to go.”

Remus hesitated. He did believe that Sirius and Harry didn’t want to endanger him or Teddy, but it still made him nervous that they knew. “How did you want this to go?”

“Well…” Sirius shrugged. “The first part went quite well, if I do say so myself. We seemed to be getting along, and I was pleasantly surprised by the whole single dad thing you have going on.” 

Remus was taken aback. That felt an awful lot like a compliment. 

“I did intend to let you know I was fully aware of your situation,” Sirius continued. “Just in a much less panic-inducing way, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Remus echoed. 

“I thought it might speed things along.”

“What things?” Remus was confused, and too emotionally drained to try and keep up with the whirlwind that was Sirius Black. 

“I thought that, once I’d witnessed Harry’s very impressive Patronus Charm, I might ask his very intelligent and competent teacher if he’d like to grab a drink.”

It took Remus several long moments to realize that Sirius Black was asking him out on a date. “Er… come again?”

Sirius squinted. “I’m asking you on a date, Remus.”

“No, I gathered that, thank you—but why?”

Sirius pulled a face. “I’m not going to wax poetic, if that’s what you’re after.”

“No, no,” Remus said, a tad impatiently, “I don’t want a poem, I want a reason. I’m your godson’s teacher, and if that’s not enough, I’m a bloody werewolf.”

Sirius shrugged again. “Look, Harry adores you. Don’t tell him I said that. And even if those two things bothered me, you… you’ve done enough for Harry that I’d’ve come around. He wrote to me while I was trying to get custody of him. It killed me that I couldn’t be there for him, but he told me about how you were there for him. You helped him when Quirrell, that crazy Astronomy teacher, had Voldemort on the back of his head. You helped him with a fucking basilisk last year, so shit, Remus, if I believe I can trust you.”

“I…” Merlin, Remus hadn’t felt this overwhelmed in a long time. “I… can see your point of view.”

“I like a fearless man,” Sirius continued with a grin, and now he was placing a hand on the wall over Remus’ shoulder and leaning in with a smirk that made Remus weak in the knees. “Seems like you fit the bill.”

Remus wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “I’m not fearless,” he said sharply. “You should know that, after last night.”

Sirius was quiet for a beat. When he next spoke, he left Remus speechless. “What I saw last night was a dad who was ready to hex me into oblivion if I threatened his son. That’s not cowardly.”

Remus couldn’t come up with a response to that, so Sirius continued. “You don’t need to say yes to a drink if you aren’t ready for that, even though I’d like you to. But I really would like to stay in touch—I really wasn’t kidding when I said some pointers would be helpful.” Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Minnie’s owled me once already this year to tell me I can’t tell Harry to hex that little Malfoy shit. She said I have to teach him healthy conflict resolution, can you believe it?”

“Unbelievable,” Remus said dryly, the corners of his mouth ticking up. “Who’d have thought it?”

“Laugh it up, Professor,” Sirius said with an eye roll. “This is exactly why I could use a former prefect on my side.”

Remus startled himself by letting out a full laugh, not just a small chuckle, and judging by delighted the look on his face, he’d surprised Sirius, too. “I never thought I’d see the day where Sirius Black admitted to needing a prefect.”

“Oi, I said former,” Sirius protested half-heartedly. “And I’ll deny it if you repeat it.”

Remus mulled it over. Sirius was… intense. He barreled into things without thinking the consequences through. He was, in all honesty, almost the worst kind of person Remus could imagine keeping a secret as important as his lycanthropy. But… he was also, apparently, the kind of person who could overcome their own prejudices and choose to keep that kind of secret. 

All of his life, Remus had been forced to make his decisions based on what would keep his lycanthropy under wraps. But if that wasn’t an issue here, what decision did he want to make? The answer came immediately: He didn’t want to be lonely anymore. 

“I… I could get a drink,” he hedged uncertainly. “Maybe as… acquaintances? Reunited roommates?”

“Merlin, Remus, you wound me. Friends or nothing, how about it?” Despite his words, Sirius’ grey eyes were gleaming with excitement, and Remus felt himself lean in, tempted despite his better instincts. He thought briefly of Teddy, wondering how he would instruct his son to respond in such a situation. 

He’d want Teddy to make a friend. 

“We can start as friends,” he said slowly. He stifled the laugh that threatened to slip out when Sirius crowed with satisfaction. 

“I’ll wear you down, Lupin,” he swore. “I always do.”

Remus didn’t doubt that, but he rolled his eyes to maintain some semblance of dignity. 

…

To Remus’ mild surprise, Sirius didn’t leave his side for much of that day. They met up with Harry, but Sirius was quick to remind Remus that it was very uncool to be seen hanging out with your guardian at thirteen, even if said guardian was a very cool, vintage-Muggle-band-tee-wearing, motorcycle-riding godfather. Remus thought privately that Harry, so was so eager to please, would likely not mind spending a day with his godfather, but he allowed Sirius to tag along during his lesson planning anyway. He thought Sirius would find it dull, but the man actually seemed interested to know what Remus had been up to since they’d left school. 

“You weren’t in the Order,” Sirius protested, slack-jawed. “I’d’ve known, Remus, I was there.”

“Special operations,” Remus said a bit sheepishly. “I didn’t attend regular meetings, and I was kept on a strict need-to-know basis. I mostly ensured the neutrality of other magical beings.”

Sirius shook his head. “Bloody hell. I never knew.”

Remus had wanted to keep it that way, just in case someone wondered why he fit in so well among vampires, centaurs, and werewolves. “That was rather the point. I suspect you got up to more interesting things?”

And it went on like that. They traded stories—Remus about his adventures traveling and chronicling the activities of various magical creatures, Sirius about attempting to master all things Muggle while gaining custody of Harry. Eventually, Remus offered up a tale or two of Teddy, which delighted Sirius to no end. 

It settled something in Remus, this easy camaraderie. It pained him to know that he might have had this long ago, but he decided not to regret too much; he had it now. Or, at least, the beginnings of it. Sirius seemed to sense the conflict within him, because he took care to very pointedly ask if Remus would like someone to watch Teddy the next full moon. 

Remus lifted a brow at that, but Sirius just shrugged. “He’s a cute little bugger,” Sirius said by way of explanation. “And he practically worships Harry after watching him play Quidditch.” That was true; Teddy had, unfortunately, already declared to Remus that he’d like to be a Quidditch player when he grew up. 

“We’ll see,” Remus murmured, but he had a funny feeling that Sirius would convince him before too long. 

When lunchtime rolled around, Remus had nearly forgotten that the entire point of Sirius’ visit was to witness his godson’s successful Patronus Charm. When Harry walked through his office doors with an anxious grin on his face, Remus had to physically shake his head to remind himself that he was, first and foremost, Harry’s professor. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Harry,” Remus said encouragingly when the boy stood rigid in the middle of the room. Remus understood; having an audience made an authentic experience difficult to create. It probably didn’t help that Sirius was watching with such obvious excitement. Remus smiled a little to himself at that; this was a side of Sirius he’d never seen in school, but he found he rather liked it. 

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. After several beats, he lifted his wand and with perfect clarity shouted, “Expecto patronum!”

A silvery-blue stag burst forth from Harry’s wand and pranced about the room, weaving proudly between a beaming Harry and an ecstatic godfather. Sirius’ eyes were suspiciously wet as he gazed upon the stag, and Remus knew that his mind was both here with Harry and somewhere deep into the past. 

In a sudden movement, the stag still throwing its head as it walked about the room, Sirius pulled his godson into a bone-crushing hug. “This is brilliant, Harry,” Remus heard Sirius whisper to him. “Absolutely brilliant. Your mum and dad would be so fucking proud.”

Affection rushed through Remus all of a sudden, and he found that he couldn’t look away. His eyes met Sirius’ over Harry’s shoulder, and he watched as Sirius mouthed the words thank you.

Remus just smiled and nodded, bursting with pride for Harry. And, well. He just might let Sirius buy that first round of drinks.